#Trying to save every coin he can just so he can continue to invest that into his business

[rational-mastermind]

#'overthrow capitalism' your whole shtick is selling stuff#possibly even stuff you found in trash cans#you fund the local store and supply the others#donate to the museum#create (??) a movie theater#repair/improve the town in various ways the mayor himself could never afford to#you own land and a thriving business#you even buy a lady a house if you wanna go real hard#you practically own this town#you are THE capitalist#what you overthrow is corporatism

@ Prev Tags; So true

[jaskierswolf]

My dearest darling Wolfie, I saw your idea for game gerlion friends to lovers in @thewitcherbog horny chat and I am here to ask you to write the fic. Pls 💜😘

Tada!! I can't remember if this was exactly what I had planned... but it's what we're getting. Lovingly beta'd by @comfyswitcherblanketfort.

CW: probably rated M? Briefly mentioned masturbation more horny than smutty.

____

A retirement at Corvo Bianco had never been what Geralt expected of his life. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told a young Dandelion that witcher’s never retire, but in recent years between looting caves and haggling for contracts, he’d managed to save quite a bit of coin. He was, objectively, rich. He had the best armour on the Continent, the most deadly swords and crossbow bolts, and thanks to B.B., his house was beautifully decorated, with the exception of the rather garish portrait of his most loyal friend. Yet, he was still gaining more money than he knew what to do with. He’d started investing in merchants and refusing payment but the vineyard brought in a steady income and Geralt had to admit that his life was pretty luxurious these days.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Dandelion had turned up, in fine, brightly coloured silks and the elegantly decorated elven lute from so many years ago. Geralt sometimes wondered whether Toruviel had enchanted her lute. There was barely a scratch and Geralt couldn’t even recall Dandelion ever having to change the lute strings in all the years he’d known the bard. Geralt was no expert but he was pretty sure that you were supposed to change the lute strings.

The sun was shining over the fields of Corvo Bianco, and Geralt felt at peace. Perhaps that was why he was feeling so nostalgic, pondering over the events that had led him to this moment. His life had always been so busy, but with Ciri off touring the multiverse, and Yennefer doing whatever Yennefer did these days now the Djinn wish had been broken, he was… well… bored? He had every Gwent card currently made, and no one would play him. It was just him and the bard, living the bachelor’s life in Touissant.

So was it any wonder that Geralt had started to develop feelings for his friend? Perhaps they’d always been there, clouded by the wish that tied him to Yennefer, or perhaps their newfound domesticity had awoken something in Geralt that he had never expected. Dandelion spent a lot of time in the makeshift study, working on his latest book, but they always ate together and sometimes the bard would even accompany Geralt on his contracts in the fields, for old times sake. After long nights of drinking too much wine or vodka, it wasn’t unusual for the pair of them to fall asleep together, curled up in one bed just like they used to in their youth. Those were Geralt’s favourite nights, because despite his protests of being better alone, he enjoyed the familiar warmth of another body pressed against his, and Dandelion had always been a cuddler.

And as if on cue, the bard burst through the doors onto the patio where Geralt was watching the world go by.

“Ah, Geralt, old friend, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Dandelion announced with a flick of his wrist. “I was just in town.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt groaned. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Dear Henrietta will forgive me in time, my friend,” Dandelion winked, his tongue flicking out between his lips, “and until then I have plenty of friends who will offer me shelter if the guards are around.”

“You look like a man sized peacock,” Geralt scoffed. “How the hell does no one see you?”

“Ah, dear witcher, you forget that I used to be a spy,” Dandelion laughed, putting one hand on his hips. “Now, stop interrupting, Geralt, or do you not care about the gift I picked out for you in town today?”

Geralt hummed, knowing that it didn’t really matter whether he cared or not. Nothing would stop Dandelion once he was in the middle of a story. Some things just never changed. “Go on.”

Dandelion beamed, and from behind his back he produced a wooden box. The poet cocked his head as he opened the lid, revealing a set of tiny vials neatly lined up. Geralt almost choked, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oil?” he spluttered. A man such as Dandelion had to know of the more promiscuous uses of oil. Whilst Dandelion had never explicitly said as such, the way he talked of his lovers had always led Geralt to believe that he was rather flexible in his tastes, much like Geralt himself.

The poet blushed as he pulled a single vial from the box, his long lutist fingers wrapping around the glass. “Bath oils, Geralt.”

“Oh, of course,” Geralt cursed internally. Dandelion had bought all sorts of expensive oils and lotions when they had been on the path together, neither of them were shy with their bathing habits and the poet was a highly skilled masseur.

Which was not helping Geralt’s sudden rush of arousal as he remembered the feel of the poet’s hands on his skin. They’d laughed off awkward erections in the past, it was just a thing that happened… but Geralt was starting to wonder what would happen if, for once, they let it happen.

“This one will probably be a bit much for your witcher senses, my friend, but I rather like it,” Dandelion continued, oblivious to Geralt's inner turmoil. “This one,” another vial was plucked from the box, “however, I think you will like, and I managed to buy this,” Dandelion pulled a scroll from his pocket, “from a local mage. It’s supposed to move the water around the tub, like a massage!”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Geralt sighed, rolling his eyes. As much as he adored his old friend, the man could take his sweet time getting to the point. It was even worse when the poet and Regis got together, Geralt honestly thought he might never know peace again.

“Because, Geralt, I am treating my dearest friend to an extravagant bath time experience!” Dandelion exclaimed with wide arms, almost knocking off his own hat in his enthusiasm. “Friendship and love, art and wine, Geralt. What more could you want in life?”

Love.

No, friendship. Geralt needed to focus on that. How many times had Dandelion called him his friend? Too many to count.

“Assuming you have wine, what’s the art?” Geralt smirked, enjoying the offended noises Dandelion made.

“Geralt, I’ll have you know that-”

“Relax, Dandelion. I’m teasing. So how about this bath then?”

The two men made their way upstairs, peeling off their outer clothes as they strolled past Geralt’s bedroom, and picking up a robe each. Dandelion had filled the room with candles, and there was a soft floral scent hanging in the air, roses, the oil vial that Dandelion had initially held up.

“I thought this one was too much for my ‘witcher senses’?” Geralt scoffed, peering at the magically bubbling water.

“Well, yes, but I did also say I liked this one, and I’ll admit that I got a little carried away. You don’t mind, do you Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head as he stripped off his final layer of clothing and settled into the tub. Dandelion sat in a chair, still wrapped in his robe, and picked up his lute. He plucked idly at the strings until he was seemingly happy that they were in tune, and then he began to sing. Geralt sighed as he sank deeper into the hot water, the enchantment really did feel like a sort of massage as jets of water pulsed against his skin, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The oils, the candles, the romantic ballad…

Was his friend trying to tell him something?

It was time for Geralt to test the waters as it was. He trod the water with his hand, gently splashing to the beat of Dandelion’s song. Normally, he would close his eyes and let the poet’s music fill the room, but instead he was mesmerised by the way Dandelion’s finger caressed the lute strings. Geralt could feel his cock harden as he pondered what other uses his friend’s delicate hands could have, the way they found their mark with such precision. The poet could make any instrument sing to the gods in his hands, Geralt was sure that he was no exception.

“Practicing your fingering?” he asked Dandelion with a tilt of his head.

The strings twanged unpleasantly, making Geralt grimace as the sound reverberated in his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Geralt smirked. “On your lute.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Dandelion muttered. “I’m just trying to figure out the next verse. I could use a hand, or an ear if you’d be willing to help.”

“I have a hand you could use, or two,” Geralt muttered not really intending for Dandelion to hear him but the poet had sharp ears and he spluttered incoherently as he set down his lute.

Geralt hummed and let his hand drop beneath the water, stroking his cock lazily. He wasn’t really chasing any real pleasure, but it was a good feeling, sending warmth across his skin. The bath, the candles, the song, they had to mean something even in Dandelion’s subconsciousness. The man was an insatiable flirt, and yet never seemed to notice when others’ affections were cast upon him, not unless it was blunt in its honesty.

So Geralt would be blunt.

He closed his eyes as he continued to stroke the length of his cock, the motion causing the water to ripple slightly, but not yet enough to draw Dandelion’s attention. The poet was too busy wittering on about his rhymes, only noticing when Geralt’s breath hitched as he cupped his balls.

“Geralt?”

“Dandelion,” Geralt grunted softly, his pleasure beginning to build from a warm ember to a roaring blaze that burned through him. The poet’s cornflower blue eyes were on him, dark and hungry. His cheeks were flushed rosy, and it seemed his dear friend was finally catching onto what was happening.

“I- I can leave, my friend, if you would prefer…”

“Stay,” Geralt insisted. “This not what you had in mind?”

“Well,” Dandelion laughed. “I had hoped, but I never thought it would actually happen, and well, really I thought it might take a little more convincing. Who knew all I needed all along were a few cheap candles?”

“Just get in the bath, Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Okay, okay,” Dandelion said with a roll of his eyes but shrugged out of his robe, allowing Geralt to admire his slender form. The poet’s cock remained soft as he stepped into the water. ��So… how long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have I been more than just a friend to you, Geralt?” Dandelion asked, settling into the water with a soft moan. His hands resting on Geralt’s thighs, fingers drawing patterns on Geralt’s skin under the water.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Could he even pin it down? Geralt wasn’t sure.

“Hard to tell, our friendship has never exactly been normal, Dandelion,” Geralt admitted.

Dandelion laughed, leaning forward in the tub, his hands stroking up Geralt’s thigh, the movement forcing the air from Geralt’s lungs. “You know, you’re right, and I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Mhmm, and how about we start with a kiss?” Dandelion winked, before falling into Geralt embrace with a splash.

[visit-ba-sing-se]

My contribution to the “what happened to Kuzon?” question, I guess. No canon, just me making myself cry. Kuzon was old. He knew that, and with every move he made his body reminded him. Still, he was crouching over to clean the dust from a statue. The monk that it resembled had his eyes closed and seemed to be mediating, blissfully unaware off the world around him. Kuzon sighed. What would he give to just trade spots with him. Once more, he was not sure if he was supposed to find it rather funny or tragic that this small shed, in a small village between somewhere and nowhere, was where his life had led him. His parents had been a merchants. But not the kind of merchant you would meet on the city market and who'd sell you cabbage or fish. The kind of merchant that travelled to Ba Sing Se or Omashu and returned with ancient relicts that they'd sell some fire nation nobleman. Or the other way around, trade spices that would be used to for the spicy pickled kelp severed to earth kingdom royals. And Kuzon had been accompanying them for as long as he could remember, and a lot of it, he had loved. Counting heavy coins while sitting on his father lap, helping his mother chose between different colored pieces of cloth to buy and sell again for more, crossing items from a list before he even could read the words. And of course, he had met two of his best friends on their journeys. Bumi and Aang. And he had believed that that would be how things would stay, and that one day, he would grow up to be a merchant as well. Of course, in his mind he then imagines being the greatest merchant there ever was, who would have dinner with the king of Omashu and make his parents proud. And of course, that dream shattered as childrens dreams do.  One conversation it had taken to tear his world apart. One conversation that he had listend to from the closet in their living room. Kuzon had used to hide when his parents welcomed wealthy clients, as they had never wanted him around then. Today, he still remembered that one trade as if it had been yesterday, not a century ago.

“You know, the prices for those artifacts are going to increase rapidly soon,” his mother had said, her you find my price to high but there is nothing you can do about that voice as he called it. “It is not like new once will enter the market. And I even heard that the government is striating to seize and destroy those that are currently one it.” Kuzon was angry at himself for not taking a peak at what she was selling earlier. Now they were standing with their backs to him and the view was blocked. “Even if you are right, which is not unlikely”, that buyer, a fire nation noble, had responded,  “don't feel any bad at all profiting from that?” His mother had snapped back directly “Oh, don't strike that chord with me. You want to invest. I have an investment to offer. Nothing more, nothing less. This little intermission won't fool any of us, and you know it.” “Fine.” The nobleman than had sighed, as Kuzon had moved his head slightly, desperatly trying to get a glimpse of what had being sold.  “A pity they had to kill all of them.” “They just made the best fruit pies. And they were so fun at parties.” None of this had made sense to Kuzon. Not until he finally had seen what the noble man had just bought. An air glider. Like the one Aang had had. And with that, it had hit him. Fruit pie. Air glider. Aang. Killed. Kuzon had not left that closet until finally, after he had missed lunch and dinner in there his father had discovered him and ordered to go to bed. Of course, looking back, it was childish. But In that moment, he truly had thought that as long as he stayed in the closet, the reality would stay out. The reality in which Aang, his best friend Aang, the funny, caring and genius Aang, Aang who he had spent some go the happiest days of his life with, was dead. And his parents were selling air gliders for profit.  But of course, the reality was there, and it did not care if Kuzo accepted it or not.  He was just 12, and one might say that a kid that age would not understand so much anyway. But Kuzon felt like in fact, he was the only one who did. The only one who saw all the places in which the air nomads were missing. The only one who saw how fearful the merchants from the earth kingdom that used to be good friends of their family now looked. The only one who did no pretend that their firelord was nothing else but a liar and murderer.  All of that had made him wanting to yell. Or cry, Or both. But his parents had taught him not to do so very soon very well and so he did neither.  But he wrote it down. He started with everything Aang had told him about his people, and what he could remember from the times he had visited. He continued with everything that happened then. When his father got drafted for the war. When they started having to say this weird pledge in school. When the man with the serious face brought the letter that made his mother cry. When they had to leave their big house in the capital and move back to his grandparents into a smaller house in a small village. And how despite all of this, the first thing his mom did in her new, small room was to hang up picture of Sozin so that he could stare down from there as well. He wrote down how after that picture changed from Sozin to Azulon, he applied to university to avoid getting drafted himself. The thought of that made him chuckle now. How smart he had found himself to be. Only too find out that at university they may did not teach him how to kill someone with a sword. But to kill his mind with some words. Of course, he had written that down as well. Just as he wrote down the rumors of the deserted admiral, and the drinking songs the other students were singing about bravery and burned towns. Finally, he got into one last fight with his anthropology professor that got him kicked out of university and close to being arrested. After more or less fleeing town, he cut his hair, hid in a few more closets and stole the passport of a poor lad named Lee. Like that, he escaped his military service scrubbing floors, serving tea and unloading ships on docks. He spent some nights in prisons as well, after fights he had picked at night and after assaulting governmental officials. For jokes about Azulon that he alone had found funny. As the result of trying to convince people that attacking Ba Sing Se would not be right. But no one wanted to be convinced, so once more, all he could do was write down what he observed. The cheering masses and tea sipping towns people just as the polluted rivers and starving fisherman. The children playing war in the streets, already so eager to kill and die for honor and glory just as the factory workers with dark circles under their eyes. He hated to admit it now, but during that time, he had been giving close to giving up more than once. He woke up in the morning not knowing which town he was in, nor how he would pay for dinner there in the evening. He had given up his home, his studies, his name. All because he had not been wanting give up on Aang. He could not betray his friend. When he was not able to fight all of them and stop the war, the least he could do was not to become one of them and instead bear witness for future generations to come. But is just got harder and harder each day, and more and more times he scolded himself for being just stubborn and stupid. His friend was dead. The Dragon of the West was at the walls of Ba Sing Se. And everyone just loved Azulon. What difference would it make if he joined them in? Or if he just stopped trying completely? What saved him was a small clay figure of a sky bison. A woman sold it on the market in a town which's name he did not even know. What he knew, however, was that these kinds of toys were only made by air nomads. And that that woman clearly had no idea how much the piece she was offering here was worth. He bought it without thinking twice. And that was how he finally became a merchant. Trading goods became his explanation for traveling up and down the country, searching for traces and hints, gathering artifacts that one way or another that found their way into the hands of people who had no idea what they were holding. Of course, he had to start small. Very small. But he had learned from the best there were. And he had a goal. “Maybe I am naive to think that one day, the war will be over and the firelord defeated. That one day we can speak freely again and that people will come and learn about the airnomads.”, he wrote down during this time, but when that day comes, they need to have something to learn from. After many years, when Ozai already replaced Azulon, Kuzon settled in a small village, where he lived in a small hut with an even smaller shed in which he kept the artifacts hidden. People quickly started avoiding him as the weird old man who in any other place would have already been arrested but here just served as village idiot. He continued writing, but news travelled slow and when they arrived were usually not reliable at all. Because of that, he nearly did not dare to write the first hopeful line after what seemed to be an eternity. Word has it that the Avatar has returned.

And then after another year, despite all odds and just like that, the war suddenly was over. At least so he heard. And noted that the war was over. And then finally, he put the pen down. Everything suddenly had changed. Yet still, it remained the same.

Kuzon was still alone in his hut and with his books, and still no one seemed to care. He had a testamony to make, but no one wanted to listen. They all just wanted to forget so fast.  And he was a disturbance, since they knew that he remembered.  There were rumors that the new firelord, Zuko, 16 and like that himself half a child, wanted to change things and own up the crimes that were committed. Some people pretended to support that. Others openly complained. Kuzon just would like to believe it was true. But he just had stopped trusting in firelords a long time ago.

Still, he tried his best to maintain the artifacts in good shape, but he was old. He had no family. No friends. And the thought that they would remain hidden here after his death, abdomend and forgotten, broke what was still left of his heart.  But here he was, and here they were. Alone. Suddenly, when Kuzon could already feel his eyes filling with tears, he was interrupted by a voice. A very familiar voice.

“Somebody here?”, it asked.  Kuzon was sure that it was only in his mind, brought back by all the memories. Still, while scolding himself for being a stupid old man, he slowly turned around, expecting to see nothing except for the wall of his shed. But his mind had not tricked him. There he stood, smiling that familiar smile that Kuzon never would have thought he would see again. Aang. And Kuzon cried.

[waiting4inspiration]

Darkness before Dawn XVII: Dawn

Summary: Geralt returns to you and admits that he does love you. But when the dawn comes after a long dark time for you, you realize that it seems you can’t have the man you love and your family’s kingdom at the same time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of murder, mentions of hauntings, itty bitty smut, strong language, magical themes, it’s a bit longer than what I normally write

Word Count: 3,805

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

No portal opened for Geralt. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. Eventually, he decided to figure out where the hell he is and make the journey back to Eronia and he didn’t care how long that would take. All he cares about is finding out if he managed to save you and if he broke the curse. 

It will take almost a week on horseback to get back to Eronia, Geralt figures out. A week to find out if he failed or succeeded. But, he thought, if he hadn’t heard from Ida in some way it could only mean that something’s happening in the castle. They must be occupied with something else. Something bad most likely. Geralt only hopes that it doesn’t have to do with you. 

There are only so many times where he has failed at a job. And though he knows that he can’t save everyone, there’s still a tinge of guilt and disappointment when that happens. And when it comes to someone whom he has grown close to, someone he’s grown fond of, maybe even come to have love. 

Yes, he’ll admit it. He’s fallen in love with you. 

His affections go deeper than they can ever go with Yennefer and he’ll admit that to Jaskier, Ida, your father. He’ll admit that to you. If he ever sees you again. 

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s traveling back to you. It gives him time to think things through. There’s no doubt that things are complicated. You’re the heir to a throne and he’s a Witcher. There’s a good chance Dominic won’t approve of the match and, as Uza said, his sterile nature will prevent you from producing an heir and your father’s line will end. Not to mention what people will say. 

Witchers aren’t normally seen in good light and no relationship can change that. People will talk bad about him - not that he’s used to it - and about you. That’s something he can’t bear to think of. It’s something you don’t deserve. Not after everything you’ve been through now. 

He barely gets his thoughts together when the castle appears in the distance. A week has passed and he hasn’t thought of what he will, or should, do. 

Getting into the city, Geralt sees that things are different than before he left. There seems to be an almost somber atmosphere. People walk around silently, some with sorrow on their faces as they filter out of the temple. Others walk in with flowers in their hands. Geralt knows these are the signs of death from someone in the royal family, especially when he notes the missing flag from the castle. 

His mind goes what he hoped for a week won’t be true and it urges him to speed towards the castle. 

People marvel at his appearance and he hears them saying “There goes the Witcher.” “No doubt he’s here to receive his payment.” Geralt doesn’t pay attention to their words. He just has to know if his suspicions are true or not. 

The guards don’t even stop him from entering the castle. They just stare at him as he passes, pushing the door open so he can walk into the throne room. “It is what she wants and I am instructing you to see it carried out,” Dominic orders a man walking beside him as they cross the hall. 

Upon seeing Geralt, Dominic stops in his tracks and turns to face the Witcher that walks towards him. The man takes this as his time to leave and he does so quickly with a quick bow of his head to the King. 

“Geralt of Rivia. I did not think you would return.” Dominic almost sounds disappointed, something that confuses Geralt for a moment as he comes to stand in front of the King. “No doubt you have come to collect the coin I promised you.”

“No,” Geralt quickly says causing Dominic to frown. “I’ve come to see if (Y/n)- the Princess is alright.” 

Dominic nods his head, his bottom jaw tensing as he turns his gaze across the room. “She’s in the gardens.” Those words make a wave of relief wash over Geralt and he breathes out a silent sigh as Dominic raises his hand to point him in the right direction. “You’re free to see her, if you wish,” he states, giving the Witcher a reassuring nod. 

Geralt turns after nodding thanks in return. You’re alive and that’s all that he needed to know. Hearing that you’re out of your room only means that you’re doing well. Well enough to move around. When he sees you, he can’t stop the smile growing on his face. 

You’re painting, standing by yourself, seemingly stronger than ever. And laughing at the scene in front of you. Jaskier is in a pose with his lute, pretending to serenade Charlotte and making jokes that are the cause of your laughter and your sister’s. You’re in a better state than he thought you would be. 

Jaskier catches Geralt standing in the distance and drops his foot off the bench as he smiles brightly. “Geralt! It’s about time you returned!” Your head snaps over your shoulder at those words and you slowly place your paintbrush down. “I want to hear every detail about how you saved the Princess of Eronia from the claws of death.”

“Jaskier,” Charlotte hisses, grabbing his arm before he can walk towards Geralt and pulls him back. “You can interrogate him later. Give him time with (Y/n), hm?” she suggests, nodding to you as you slowly start to walk forward. 

Seeing how invested you and Geralt are in each other, not really paying attention to anything else around you, Jaskier chuckles as he turns to walk away with Charlotte. 

Geralt walks forward, intending on meeting you halfway. His stare never leaves your face and he can’t stop himself from standing close to you. So close, all he has to do is lean down to close the space between you two so he can kiss you. “You came back,” you whisper, making him smile.

“I needed to know if you were alright,” he says in a low voice, his hand reaching out to take yours resting at your side so he can entwine his fingers with yours. 

You chuckle, drop your gaze to his hand and bite your lower lip. “I’m sorry we didn’t open a portal-”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters,” he whispers and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of having him so close to you again. 

“Kurst killed my mother and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” Geralt drops your hand and cups your face in his hands.

Geralt doesn’t feel sorrow for your mother’s death. Not after what she offered him to do. Your mother was a horrid person and she got what was coming to her, he thinks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You nod lightly, bring your arms up to wrap around his neck. “I’m glad you came back,” you whisper before he leans forward to press his lips to yours.

Knowing that Jaskier and Charlotte might be watching, you use magic to grow a wall of shrubs to block their view and to give you and Geralt some privacy as he deepens the kiss. This is why you came back, why you decided not to stay in the spirit realm. You could never replicate this kiss, this moment. Nothing will ever compare to this, or the next time he’ll kiss you. Being in his arms, under his touch is worth more than a thousand lifetimes. 

You hope it lasts. Knowing Witcher’s nature, they’ll move on to the next job as soon as their current one is done. You hope that Geralt doesn’t do this. You want him to stay in Eronia. With you. You will fight anyone who opposes it because you don’t think you’ll love as you love Geralt. 

If he stays, not sure what he will do. Perhaps he can become your bodyguard. But what a scandal it would be for a Princess to have her lover as her bodyguard. You’re sure you can find a way around this mess once you are queen. Or perhaps, even before then. Surely you can talk to your father about it and hope he will listen to you. 

But, Geralt has other ideas. It’s in your kiss that all that thinking he has done over the week that he finds his answer to what he wants to do. And he pulls back, keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes out a deep sigh. “We need to talk.”

You were afraid he would say that. Still, you know that it has to be done. You’ve learned that almost everything can be solved if you just discuss it. Since you’ve gotten your strength back, you’ve continued learning how to be a Queen and how to rule a kingdom. You’ve learned a lot, but learning about politics will never be as fun as learning new magic spells and conjuring things from thin air. 

“Come with me,” you whisper, leading him out of the gardens and back into the castle. 

He follows as close behind you as he can while avoiding stares from others. He knows the path you’re leading him through goes to your chambers because he’s walked it many times before. And it will always feel great knowing that it’s just you and him, that no one can suddenly disturb you two when you close the door behind you. 

He watches you as you walk towards him, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your gaze on your folded hands. He knows that you have a feeling about what he wants to talk about when you don’t look up at him after a while. “We knew this was going to happen-”

“Why does it?” you cut him off, lifting your gaze up to him as letting your hand unfold from each other. “Why can’t you stay?”

Geralt shakes his head, his jaw tensing as he turns his head to look away from you. “You know why.” He knows you’re not stupid. You know why he can’t stay. 

You take a small step forward, reach out to turn his face back to you, make his gaze lock with yours as you rest your hand on his chest. “Tell me anyway,” you challenge, wondering if you can use your skills of persuasion and debate on him to try and get him to stay. But you also have a feeling that his stubbornness will prevail. 

“If I stay, it could ruin your family’s name.” 

That doesn’t sound like his words. It makes you frown and take a small step back, pulling away from him as you stare with a slightly open mouth. “What did my mother say to you?” you ask, feeling that she must have something to do with this. Of all people, you didn’t think that Geralt would care about reputation. Why else would he have kissed you in the first place if he wanted to protect what people think of you and your family? No, reputation was your mother’s thing and you know how her words could ensnare someone’s mind and make them doubt...everything. She must have gotten to Geralt. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does because you need to know that she was wrong. Whatever she said to you was wrong and it shouldn’t affect you because she’s dead and I’ve made sure that her body will be burnt to destroy her spirit because I know how powerful her words can be, Geralt,” you ramble, stepping farther and farther away from him as you shake your head in disbelief. 

You thought that with your mother now dead, you wouldn’t have to worry about her affecting your life anymore. You can’t believe that this is happening. Everything seemed to be going well and now she’s trying to take the one thing you want so much away from you. You see her in your dreams, laughing and mocking you, saying that you can’t even get rid of her now that she is dead. She tells you that she will never leave you. And in fear, you’ve ordered that her body be burned instead of buried because you know that fire kills the spirit too. Even though your curse is lifted and you shouldn’t be able to see ghosts anymore, the fear will never leave you. 

Geralt, seeing you retreating from him, takes a step forward and reaches out to take your hand. “Do you love me?” you ask, stepping out of his reach again as his head snaps you to you. 

“I do love you,” he whispers, and his heart almost beats again within the long silence between slow beats. He’s had a week to think about, spend a few nights thinking about it and he doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he says it. 

You take a step closer, drop the concerned look on your face and reach up to touch the side of his face. Your fingers touch the bottom of the scar on his temple as you gaze into his golden eyes. “I would fight for us because I love you too. I would fight for people to accept you more than I would fight for them to accept me, someone with magic prowess, being on the throne because I love you too.”

Word has gotten out about Charlotte’s parentage and how you are next in line for the throne of Eronia now but also that you have taken after your mage Aunt. Long story short, many Kings and queens and Sorcerers aren’t sure whether it is a good idea or not. They’re afraid you could become too powerful as a ruler and a mage. 

Geralt smiles down at you, his head leaning into your touch as he steps closer to you to rest his hand on your hips. Your words won’t change his mind, but he won’t tell you that. It’s best to make you believe you have won this fight. 

He touches his nose to yours, touches your lips with his lightly as his hands run up your sides. You breathe out a shaky sigh, your body trembling at his touch as his hands stop at the laces on the back of your dress. Then, as he pulls on laces, he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that makes your eyes fall shut. 

You feel your dress become loose around your shoulders as he starts to walk backward towards your bed. At the foot of your bed, he turns around so your back faces the bed. His hands travel up your arms so he can take your face in his hands. His kiss grows deeper, your hands drop to start unbuckling his armor. It’s a lot to go through, but it’s not long before you get to the shirt he wears underneath the armor that now lies on the floor with his iron sword. 

Geralt moves the hair away from your neck as he breaks the kiss, tilts his head to kiss along your jaw and then down your neck as you let your dress fall to the ground. Then, he runs his fingers down your naked arms making goosebumps appear and a sigh falls from your lips. He lowers you to the bed, hovering above you as his lips return to yours. 

Your hands fall on his back, pull his shirt up out from being tucked in his pants. And when you touch his skin and trace his scars, he groans against your lips and settles between your legs when he nudges at them with his knee. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to sit up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Instead of kissing your lips again, he drops his head in the bend of your neck and kisses down your body. You drop your head against the bed, stare up at the ceiling with your heart hammering in your chest as Geralt’s lips move down the valley between your breasts. “Geralt,” you mutter, your fingers weaving through his hair as you press your body against his. 

You run your hands over his broad shoulders and down his back when he comes back up to kiss your neck, his hand grabbing the back of your thigh and making your leg bend next to him. Pushing his trousers pasted his hips, he moans against your skin. You feel his hardness poking against your thigh and it makes you shake in excitement. 

“I’ll always love you,” Geralt whispers in your ear, making your heart swell and a smile grows on your face. As his lips return to yours, he rolls his hips against yours and slowly pushes his cock into you, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head. 

And with the sun starting to set outside, the golden light filtering into the room makes the moment between you and Geralt all the more special to you. 

Geralt watches the sun dawn, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his shoulder. You’re fast asleep, your naked body pressing against his and the sheet covering your lower body as well as his. He’s glad that no one was looking for you last night because it would have ruined the moment. The moment that he won’t forget and he’s sure you won’t either. It was tender and passionate at the same time. And when you let the moment take you over, you let everything go and it turned out to be the best night he’s had in a long time. 

Turning his head down to you, he takes in a deep breath and slowly leans down to gently kiss the top of your head. As you moan and shift in your spot, Geralt takes that chance to pull his arm out from under you and shift to the edge of the bed. He stares at his armor and clothes lying in a pile on the ground for a moment before looking back at you.

He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but it’s what he decided to do. He wishes he could stay with you, but he has other things to do. He can’t stay in Eronia. 

Slowly and silently, he stands from the bed and starts to put his clothes back on. He leaves his armor off, not wanting to risk waking you up with the cluttering noise. Then he’ll have to explain everything and he can’t see you heartbroken. 

Before he leaves your room with his armor in hand, he looks back at you one last time, glad to see that peaceful look on your face as you breathe shallow breaths. He’s glad he’ll have this image in his mind on his travels. 

He doesn’t even think of collecting his fee from the King. He doesn’t care about that anymore. It’s best if he gets out of Eronia and put it behind him. Most of the castle is still asleep, so it surprises him to see Ida standing beside Roach when he comes to the stables. “I knew you’d be here,” she says, gently petting Roach’s neck as she smiles at Geralt. “Which is why I must ask; Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“I’m sure,” he grumbles, walking past her and placing his armor on a post so he can get his saddle. 

Ida turns around to face him, folds her hands in front of her and steps forward. “And you don’t want to say goodbye to her?” she asks, earning a hard glare from him and she raises her hands in defeat. “Alright, I won’t nag. I’m just saying that things could go a lot smoother if you were honest to her and told her the truth.” Geralt looks away from her as he places the saddle on Roach’s back and starts buckling and tightening the straps. “You know, there is a legend that Witchers only truly love one person in their life,” she mentions, taking a small step towards him when he freezes at her words. “You don’t want to lose something like that if it’s true, do you, Geralt?”

He sighs, drops his head for a moment before he looks at Ida. “No, I don’t,” he murmurs, pulling the last strap tight and then turning around to pick up his armor again. 

Nodding her head, Ida glances down at her hand as she conjures a small, white flower which she hands to the Witcher. “I hope that this will help you find what you’re looking for,” she softly says, her words making Geralt’s eyes snap up from the flower to look at her in surprise. “And you do deserve this too.” She hands him a bulging pouch of coins. His payment. 

Geralt takes both items even though he’s hesitant about the pouch. Still, you can’t buy food without money. “Look after her, Ida,” he grunts as he put the pouch and the flower in a satchel before taking the reins on Roach to lead her out. 

He knows he didn’t have to tell her that. He knows that you’ll be in good hands without him.

A knock on the door makes your jolt awake with a skip in your heartbeat and before you can tell whoever it is to wait, the door swings open. You grip the sheets close to your body and quickly look down next to you where you expert Geralt to be. And your heart falls in your stomach when you don’t see him. 

“Gods, I knew you had a fun night,” Charlotte playfully teases when she sees the state you’re in but you don’t pay attention to her words. 

Your eyes start to search the room, only to find Geralt’s things gone along with him. It’s like he wasn’t even there. Your head drops and you bite your lower lip when you feel tears starting to surface. Charlotte notices your sadness. “What happened?” she softly whispers, sitting down next to you and places a hand on your covered knee. 

Shaking your head, you look up at her with a forced smile on your face. “He left,” you say, your voice breaking as a sob breaks through your throat. Your hand shoots to your mouth as Charlotte pulls you in for a strong hug. 

“And he didn’t say goodbye?” she asks, gently stroking your back as you lean against her shoulder, sobbing. 

You don’t answer. You don’t say that he did or that he didn’t say goodbye because you guess that last night was his way of doing just that and you didn’t even realize it. 

Permanent Tags- @cassindeansass​ @simsadventures​ @fandomfic-galore​ @belovedcherry​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @what-just-happened-bro​  @geekandbooknerd​ @lonewolf471​ @rainbowkisses31​ @moonie-flower101​ @p8tn0lish​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @readsalot73​ @louisolos​ @petlaufeyson​ @bangtan-serendipity​ @aworldwideapart​ @mythicalbullshit​ @ateliefloresdaprimavera​ @xbuckxnastyx​ @madithemagicalfangirl​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @shannygoatgruff​ @a--1--1--3​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @mblaqgi​ @tephi101​ @coconutqueen21​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @babypink224221​ @writers-whirlwind​

Geralt Tags - @carlya65​ @whitewolfandthefox​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @bitchwhytho​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @thefifthmaraud3r​ @fabiola-betancourt​ @cookies186​ @ntlmundy​ @tsukikistune​ @alwayshave-faith​ @momc95​ @shondlenoodle​ @secretsthathauntus​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @lookinalittleblue​ @lisinfleur​ @libbymouse​ @introvertedmouse​ @misshale21​  @alwayshave-faith​

[honeypirate]

You write the characters of Fire Force so good omg I am extremely weak and soft for these QwQ can I please request either an imagine or headcanon of where Viktor has a S/O who is typically more self-confident, relaxed/teasing person until Viktor does anything remotely affectionate then S/O just turns into a bright red stuttering mess. They absolutely adore the affection, they're just easily embarrassed with things like this

Okay Okay alright alright cool cool cool

I had fun with this!

I’m glad you like how I write and thank you thank you for this request I hope you like it because it ran away from me and this is how it turned out lol

Viktor Licht x Easily Flustered reader (I went Fem but let me know if you want me to write a different one that’s GN! ❤️)

Viktor I think he’s so goofy and funny I adore him

I think he’d be his normal self around you 90% of the time

Okay more like 80%

but he’d wait for the right time to whisper something in your ear

or slip you a note at work

that makes your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Which isn’t hard to do but he likes to have the element of surprise.

So when you least expect it,

“you look beautiful”

or “your butt looks juicy in that orange jumpsuit” (god idk why I even wrote this my brain went vrrr and couldn’t think of more weird compliments.)

now I don’t know if he’d say something exactly like that (I don’t put it past him)

but I do think he’d say original weird things occasionally just to see your shocked eyes and hear your sweet chuckle

And the way you stutter through syllables before you say “Viktor” and slap his chest playfully.

Bro.

He just loves you okay?

And he loves how sweet and flustered you are just for him.

He sees you confidently tease the others

And Damn you look good doing so

but he knows he can unravel that with just a few well worded phrases.

and sees your self confidence which he ADORES.

It was something he first noticed about you, one of the first things he realized he liked about you

When he first met you, when he came to the eighth, you couldn’t help the warm feeling your heart got whenever you were around him

and he loved the way you’d chuckle at his jokes

he started making more jokes just to hear you laugh.

Then he wanted to make you blush.

Then he realized he wanted to kiss you every time you blushed because of him,

and every time you were teasing the others, when he saw your confidence in your job,

mans just wanted to kiss you.

Physical touch and quality time are his love languages (I personally feel this man is touch starved because he’s so invested in his work that he just pretends and convinces himself he doesn’t care) so that’s how he began to show you he was into you

he’d tuck your hair behind your ear and grin when the familiar flush would appear

or he’d help you with your paperwork just to talk to you and be next to you.

The more time he spent with you the more comfortable you felt around him

but every time you tried to tease him he’d watch your cheeks flush and he couldn’t help but smile.

He asked you out for the first time and you choked on the water you were drinking.

Bad timing on his part which he apologized for but you accepted

because it’s Viktor! How could you say no! He makes your heart warm! he’s so sweet on you!

So now it’s been three months and he’s trying to figure out how to tell you he loves you, he has the perfect idea, he’ll tell you after work tonight, with the perfect moment.

“Oh shush Arthur, you cheated. and you Shinra, you know he cheated so his win means nothing. Now go, both of you, we all have paperwork and no time for this” they both go to their desks, mumbling stuff under their breaths but not continuing their fight anymore. It was a stupid bet about flipping a coin into a cup across the room, you didn’t really understand since you just showed up but you knew Arthur’s tell, he said he didn’t cheat and you knew he was lying by the flick of his hair.

You sigh and finish your cup of coffee before heading to the pot in the corner to refill it. Viktor, who was watching from the doorway, comes over and you refill his cup with a small smile as you make eye contact. “I love it when you do that” he says quietly and you chuckle “do what?” You cock your head and he gives you a lopsided grin “put the kids in their place” he leans in to your ear “it’s kinda hot” he whispers and then pulls back to get a get look at your red blushing face, a lopsided grin on his lips “t-thanks” you manage to stutter out, your heart racing and thumping in your ears as he chuckles and kisses the top of your head before making his way back to his lab.

“You’ve been dating him for what.. three months?” Arthur asks from his paperwork when you sit at your desk “yeah. Why?” He looks up at you with a smirk “and he, Viktor Licht, still makes you flustered?” You glare “oh shut up Arthur” you say and smile sweetly, compared with the fire in your eyes it sends a shiver down his spine “actually. Would you rather I just tell you why he makes me flustered? What he said to me… about how-“ you started to tell him but he plugged his ears as Shinra started screaming. “NO NO NO Arthur SHUT UP. She’s flustered WITH HIM but you KNOW SHE HAS NO PROBLEM TALKING TO US!” Arthur sulks as you chuckle, tucking your hair that fell from your pony back behind your ear.

Before you can finish your paperwork you’re called out to help put some infernals to rest. You were exhausted, you smelled like smoke, and you weren’t up for anything special, he could see the bags under your eyes. So he kissed your forehead and sent you off to a shower, moving his confession to another night.

You saw the emotion in his eyes, something was wrong, but he played it off. So you thought you’d do something special for him. After your shower you swung by his room, walking in when he doesn’t answer your knocks and remembering he had dinner duty. You make your way through the empty room, carefully stepping across the papers strewn about. Sure, you didn’t know what they were, but he certainly did. When you find what you’re looking for you grin and carefully make your way out of his room.

“Psst Hey” you whisper as you stuck your head through the door of the kitchen. He turns around and cocks his head, the apron on his body said ‘kiss the cook’

“Hey sweetheart” he makes this face, one that you’ve seen a lot, one that says ‘what is this beautiful girl doing now?’ “Meet me where we had our second date” you grin and slip out before popping your head back “and do you think you could maybe..” he laughs “bring some food? I’m on it, love” he smiles as he hears your giggles as you walk down the hallway. Maybe he won’t have to wait after all.

ꕥ(Twenty minutes later)ꕥ

“What is this?” His voice was shocked as he stuck his head out the window, looking out at the scene unfolding before his eyes on the roof. soft music playing that he realized was his favorite song, blankets, pillows, a couple candles and you kneeling in the middle in one of his sweatshirts. You were an angel. He loved you so much.

“Remember coming up here to watch fireworks? I know it’s only been three months and that’s not a long time but... well.. when we got back you seemed a little down so I wanted to do something nice but also easy since tonight took a lot out of us” you cheeks flush from feeling embarrassed with doing something semi-big but keeping your eyes on his “So I got your favorite record and my record player, all the blankets and pillows I own, a couple of your sweatshirts, candles, aaaaand” you pull out a bottle of wine you were saving once he settles into the blankets next to you. He leans against the side of the house and he gazes down at you, a bowl of food in each hand.

“You did all of this for me?” He whispers and you nod, your blush fully covering your face as you scoot closer into his side, placing your hands on his knee, leaning up and kissing the corner of his mouth “I love you, Viktor” you whisper, looking down at your hands, butterflies in your chest and your heart thumping in your ears again.

“W-what did you say?” He whispers and you feel your heart drop “I- I said” he shoves the bowls of food out where they won’t be kicked and he turns to sit on his knees in front of you, cupping your cheeks and turning your face up to meet his eye. Your breath hitches at his expression, excited, soft, sweet. “Tell me” he whispers and his thumbs brush against your skin and send goosebumps down the back of your neck.

“I- I said” you swallow hard and pull back your confidence from earlier, gently taking a hold of his wrists, “I said; I love you Viktor” you watch his cheeks flush as he sighs, a peaceful look in his eyes “I love you, so much” he presses his lips to yours softly, warming up your cold ones from sitting outside waiting for him.

Look all I’m saying is Viktor is sweet and goofy and loving and he would he would love to watch your cheeks blush when he’d say sweet things and compliment you

but he’d also want to make sure certain things are perfect, like telling you he loved you. Or your first time wink wink together.

Certain perfect moments that tie together all the goofy, sweet, moments.

The moments where he makes your face flush bright enough to be compared to an infernals flame,

the time you stutter through words after he whispers something in your ear,,,,

but who is he,

or I,

kidding anyone?

Every moment is perfect with you.

Even if they’re hard.

Even that time you tried to tidy the papers in his room and messed everything in his system up.

Or the way you tried to fix it by making the papers rain down around you both, making him laugh before you hugged him and apologized for messing up his system and really helping him fix it again.

Oh God.

Holy Sol

He knows there’s nothing he believes in more than you, more than the love you share, and the fact that his favorite color is the pink dusting your cheeks. The pink that is just for him

[pressedinthepages]

Breeze

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: reader request: [Hello! I read that you would like to write something other than x reader from time to time, so I have a (hopefully cute 😳) Geraskier-request for you: Geralt saving money and surprising Jaskier with buying him his own horse. And Jaskier is deeply moved by that action (maybe he's crying) and Geralt just laughs and gives him cuddles/kisses him. 😌] awe dumb softe bois

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a wonderful beta :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, ~yearning~, geralt has to use his voice to communicate

Two idiots and a horse get another horse.

    “Geraaaalt. Why aren’t we staying at the inn? I can literally see it from here, the soft bed and the warm bath beckoning to me through the dark. ‘Come to me, Jaskier,’ it’s saying, Geralt. It’s not like we’re strapped for coin, either. The alderman actually paid you pretty well for that bear ghost-”

    “Barghest.”

    “Yes, yes, exactly. But back to my earlier line of inquiry. I ask again, why in the shit are we staying out in the middle of the woods for what feels like the thousandth night in a row?”

    Geralt sighs, staring up at the stars on the clear night. “I’m trying to save my coin.”

    Jaskier scoffs, drawing a raise of the brow from the Witcher. “For what, pray tell?”

    “New armor.”

    “Oh, so the Witcher can get new armor every other week and it’s fine, but when I go and buy a new outfit for a performance, it’s a ‘waste of coin, Jaskier?’”

`    Geralt hums with finality, listening as Jaskier just continues prattling on. There’s no real heat behind it though, and Geralt does feel bad making Jaskier rough it out here with him. But he knows that if he lets the bard wander into town on his own, Geralt will end up having a much larger and more annoying mess to clean up.

    “Jaskier,” Geralt hums, listening as he stops his ranting. “Come get some sleep, I’d like to get down to Blackbough by the new moon.”

    Jaskier huffs in response before he undoes the little buttons down the front of his doublet. He shucks it off of his shoulders and drapes it over a log on the ground, rolling up the sleeves on his chemise up to his elbow. Geralt tries quite desperately not to watch, but his eyes are drawn to every new inch of skin revealed under the low light of the embers. 

    Jaskier’s bedroll flaps loudly as he sets it between Geralt and the fire. He plops down onto it, stretching out and turning to face Geralt. The Witcher peers over at him, admiring quietly the way that the last few sparks of light dance over the high planes of his cheeks. 

    “Ah, Geralt. Another day, put to rest. Sleep well, dear Witcher.” Jaskier turns over with his back to Geralt, scooching back a bit, close enough that Geralt can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Geralt hums, his fingers flexing at his sides, itching to touch, to hold, to gather Jaskier into his arms and never let him go.

    Instead, Geralt only gives a whispered, “Goodnight, Jaskier.”

    ***

    The sky is black when they do finally arrive in Blackbough, bespeckled with stars far and wide. Jaskier leans against a post while Geralt checks over the notice board in the center of town, the bard kicking off one boot and digging his thumb into the tender skin of his sole. 

    “Fuck, Geralt. My feet are exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I would happily trot along at your side until the end of my days, but I may need to invest in some new boots sooner rather than later if that’s to be the case,” Jaskier groans, sliding his foot back into the soft leather of his boot. Geralt hums as he tears a slip of parchment from the board, watching it flutter between his fingers.

    “Wind’s howling,” Geralt rumbles, tucking the parchment into his pack atop Roach.

    “Yes, dear Witcher,” Jaskier’s hair flaps about his face, “thank you for the weather update.”

    “Why don’t-” Geralt starts, peering over at the bard. “Why don’t you head to the tavern, see if they’ll let you play for a night in a room. I’ll be out scouting this contract, so you should absolutely stay here.”

    Jaskier looks back at the little building, noting the light shining from the windows and the voices still floating in the din of the evening. He nods, and Geralt raises an eyebrow at the lack of argument. “Oh shut it, Geralt,” Jaskier grins, “you know that I would typically be more than happy to traipse through spooky fog and poky underbrush. Alas, I am fucking tired. So, on this one occasion, I will admit that you are right.”

    Geralt gives one of his rare smiles, a cheeky turn of the corner of his lip, and turns to lead Roach out of town. “I’ll come collect you in the morning. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

    Jaskier scoffs half-heartedly, swinging his lute case around as he turns towards the tavern. Geralt listens to be sure that Jaskier is secure in the building before he changes course, heading instead to a large structure situated just on the edge of town. 

    ***

    Geralt stands in Jaskier’s room, surrounded by the dulcet tones of his deafening snoring. He has called out to the bard several times, but nothing has been able to wake him. That is, nothing until Geralt decides to grab a sweet bun from the innkeeper and a cup of steamy tea.

    Jaskier hums when he smells the herbs next to his face, smiling a bit when he sees Geralt brooding in the corner. Jaskier takes a great bite out of the pastry, moaning quite obscenely at the taste. “Have a nice night, Geralt?”

    Geralt hums, gathering Jaskier’s stuff from around the room. By the Gods, he was only here for a few hours. There is a doublet over a chair, trousers on the dresser, one boot by the door and one by the fireplace, and blankets and furs all over the place. 

    “Alright, Bard. Let’s go, I have something to pick up before we leave town.” Geralt chucks the pants to Jaskier. They hit him square in the face before falling into his lap, revealing quite the impressive side-eye.

    Jaskier sighs, sipping his tea as he goes about getting dressed. Geralt watches once more, chuckling to himself as Jaskier tries to ruffle his hair into something that doesn’t quite resemble a harpy’s nest. 

    The two of them head out of the tavern soon after, the morning sun greeting them through the dew. “Geralt, where’s Roach?”

    “Stable.”

    Jaskier responds by strumming a chord on the lute with a look over to Geralt, confirming his permission to play for the time being. Geralt gives a short nod of the head and Jaskier begins, something quiet and slow as the world warms in the dawn.

    The stableboy sees them approaching and ducks inside, leaving Geralt and Jaskier standing alone. Geralt closes his eyes and just listens to the tune that Jaskier hums, relaxing into the sweet tone that drips like rainwater off of a fresh flower. 

    The stableboy comes back out, followed closely by Roach and a second horse. She is palomino blonde and slender with a spring in her step. Jaskier quirks his brow at the latter, stepping confidently towards the stablehand, who most certainly does not get paid enough for this. 

    “Thank you sir, but it’s just Roach for us. Geralt, would you mind-”

    Geralt tosses the kid an extra coin as he takes both sets of reins, passing the palomino to Jaskier. But Jaskier only looks at him, even when he gives the soft leather a good shake in the bard’s direction. Roach butts Geralt on the shoulder, wisely prompting him to use his words. “She’s uh...she’s your horse, Jask.”

    “What? Geralt, I don’t have a horse. Did you get hit on the head or something, you silly Wi-”

    “I bought her, Jaskier. I bought her for you.”

    Jaskier finally shuts up, taking the reins from Geralt’s hand with a tentative grip. The palomino steps closer to Jaskier, snuffling his hair. He giggles, setting something quite tender alight in Geralt’s heart. 

    “Geralt, I-I don’t quite know what to say...I thought you needed new armor?” Jaskier’s voice is quiet as he scritches along the horse’s nose. 

    Geralt shakes his head, fiddling with the straps on Roach’s saddle. “No. Wanted this to be a surprise.”

    Jaskier goes silent, and Geralt can’t quite bring himself to look over at him. But then Jaskier sniffles and Geralt looks up, finding tears on his cheeks and a soft look in his eyes. 

    “You-you got her for me?”

    Geralt nods, struck by a sudden boldness. He moves forward, grabbing the soft fabric of Jaskier’s doublet at his wrist. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. You-” Geralt huffs, grappling for words. “You’re far too important to me.”

    “I-do I need to actively hold onto the reins all of the time, Geralt?”

    “No, why?”

    “Because I would very much like to kiss you right now, and I would love to have both hands free for that.” Geralt’s eyes widen a bit and he nods, his breath catching as Jaskier drops the reins and surges into him. Jaskier’s lips are so much softer than Geralt had ever let himself imagine, and his fingers in Geralt’s hair feel like the closest thing that he will ever get to true paradise. 

    They part, but only far enough to look each other in the eyes. Geralt looks into those eyes, the clearest blue rivers rushing to raging seas. Geralt’s hands rest on Jaskier’s hips, his thumb rubbing little circles into his sides. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead onto Jaskier’s, reveling in the way that Jaskier’s heart speeds up and his breathing tightens a bit in his embrace. 

    “Thank you, Geralt. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you,” Jaskier whispers, light as a feather between their lips. 

    Geralt hums once more, still holding fast to the bard. “We should be leaving soon.”

    “Can I have another kiss?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can hear the smirk in his words. 

    “I suppose,” Geralt smiles as he leans back into him. 

[farfromsugafanfic]

Not So Silent Night

Genre: Quarantine Romance, slight Enemies To Lovers, Neighbors AU, Fluff, slight Angst

Pairing: Namjoon/ Reader

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Namjoon hadn’t intended to spend much time in his tiny apartment. And then a pandemic broke out. Now he’s stuck dealing with his noisy neighbor, you.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon thought he was in the clear that Wednesday night. He'd heard the opening and closing of your front door, the clink of your keys in the lock, and the rustle of the groceries in your arms. He knew it was your Friday, which meant you'd usually turn on music while you cleaned your tiny apartment, or a play a movie on full blast while you devoured an entire pizza yourself.

It was nearly 9 pm and he hadn't heard a peep from you, not even the true crime podcast you sometimes put on. Namjoon, unlike you, had worked from home for months now. Even though most of his time at work was spent in his private studio, he had nearly an identical set up in his apartment.

He was still working, albeit, not on the songs he produced for other artists, but on his own. He'd just started editing the melody when heard the familiar bass chords of "What Makes You Beautiful". It was your favorite song to torture him with. Namjoon had nothing against the British boyband you seemed to love so much, that was until you started them playing them loudly at odd hours.

Namjoon sighed, pausing his work and rubbing his temples. He really needed to save up for a good pair of noise canceling headphones, although he wouldn't find it surprising if you somehow managed to invade his eardrums right away.

He tried to continue working, turning his headphones all the way up. Yet, all he could focus on was the way he heard the familiar bass line restart when the song ended.

Namjoon groaned and threw his headphones onto his desk. He'd only moved into this tiny apartment because the rent was cheap and he hadn't intended to spend much time in it. Then, a pandemic hit and suddenly, Namjoon was confined to four menacing white walls with the only company being his noisy neighbor, you.

He waited a half hour before he walked down the stairs to your apartment. Even though the city was under quarantine, the apartment building was snug and it was nearly impossible not to come into contact with each other. Securing his mask over his ear, he knocked on your door.

"Yes?" you asked, answering the door as if you'd been expecting him. You, too, had just finished looping the mask around your ear. It was a bright polka dot pattern that distracted Namjoon long enough that he managed to speak before noticing that your oversized T-shirt made it look like you weren't wearing shorts.

"Can you please keep it down, Y/N? It's the middle of the week for me and I have a Zoom call at 8 am tomorrow."

"That sounds like your problem," you said, leaving your door open as you tied the top of the trash bag you'd been getting ready to take out when Namjoon knocked.

A glint of annoyance passed over Namjoon's eyes and even from under your mask he could make out your familiar smirk from the way your eyebrows rose.

"Do you even own headphones?" he asked, crossing his arms. He didn't notice the way your eyes swept over his biceps and chest with his movement.

"They hurt my ears," you said, shrugging. Grabbing the trash bag by the tied top and heading back for your front door. "Now, be a doll and take this out for me? My legs hurt from work."

Namjoon looked at you with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He didn't say anything as you shoved the bag into his hands.

"What? Why are looking at me like that?" you paused, dialing down your attitude for a moment. "Listen, if you do this, I'll turn it off so you can get your beauty sleep."

He watched as you reached up and pat his shoulder. Your nail polish was chipping and the gleam from your gold promise ring dulled. His eyes traced as your hand left the fabric of his T-shirt and came to the doorknob of your front door.

"Goodnight Namjoon," you said, shutting the door.

Namjoon stood in the hallway, his lips parted and a small breath. He scoffed as the familiar bassline blasted from your apartment.

✦✧✦✧

You'd had a long day. Work was keeping you at least an hour over every day and you felt your feet ache as slipped off your shoes. Even though you just wanted to fall into bed, you changed and washed your hands first, doing your best to feel clean before your skin hit the sheets. As a Pharmacy Technician, you were essential, and even if most of your job was counting pills and performing customer service, right now it was harder than ever.

With only ten hours until you had to be at work, you ordered food and eyed the laundry that was beginning to spill over the edge of the hamper like waves over a jetty. You sighed, taking out your phone and putting on music. You gathered up your clothes and laundry soap. Pocketing your keys and a handful of quarters dug out of the bottom of your purse, you made your way to the basement laundry room.

You let the music play. While you weren't particularly trying to get your tall neighbor's attention, or get on his nerves, like you usually were, you secretly hoped you'd get to catch a glimpse of his signature white T-shirt against his bronzed skin.

Loading your clothes into the shared washer, your phone began to ring and your boyfriend's face flashed across the screen. He was smiling widely in the picture, his hair swept back by the coastal breeze. At one point, it had been your favorite photo of him. Now, it just felt like a sweet apple that turned out to be poison.

You ignored the call and poured the detergent into the machine. Inserting the quarters, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. You'd heard his feet on the stairs enough, that you recognized the soft one, two pattern as he made his way downstairs.

"I think the whole complex knows you're a fan of One Direction now," Namjoon said, coming into view. His hands were empty, having obviously come down purely because of your disruption.

"So be it," you said, starting the machine and glancing down as the music stopped and your phone rang again. You frowned as you rejected the call.

Namjoon noticed, his brow furrowing as his eyes glanced down at the phone in your hand. "You should've answered. At least you'd be less of a bother."

The two calls and the exhaustion weighed you down and felt yourself drifting below the surface. "I'm really not in the mood right now, Namjoon. Maybe tomorrow."

His sarcastic smile faltered. "If you don't want me to bother you, then don't play your music so loud." He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles becoming more prominent as the fabric of his T-shirt stretched to accommodate the new position. You had no idea how he stayed so toned with the apartment gym shut down and such a small apartment.

"Maybe you should invest in earplugs."

"Maybe you should invest in headphones."

You scoffed and headed back upstairs, not feeling the banter. Your neck and shoulders were tense and you just wanted to finish your laundry and pass out for the night.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon didn't think much of your sour mood. It was obvious that it extended beyond him since you rejected the phone call. He stood in the laundry room for a few moments and watched your laundry spin around in the washer.

He remembered back to the week before when you forced him to take out your garbage. A thought crossed his mind and he wondered if a good prank would lift your spirits.

With most coin operated washers, the doors locked right after the money is inserted and the washer starts. The ones at your apartment complex, however, had a loophole. Hitting the coin return button a few times, the quarters you'd entered fell into the coin return and the machine slowed to a stop.

Waiting a few moments to make sure you weren't coming back, he opened the door and took your wet clothes out of the dryer. He pocketed the coins, reminding himself to use them for your clothes later. Setting them on top of the washer, he rushed up to his apartment and grabbed his own laundry, starting it.

✦✧✦✧

The timer went off a half hour later. You were halfway through eating dinner but paused to go switch loads. You knew between your boyfriend' incessant calls and the hour long drying cycle, you were not going to get to sleep any time soon.

Shuffling down to the laundry room, you didn't even bother to throw on music this time. The heaviness in your eyes wouldn't be cured with Harry's sweet voice as usual.

Opening the door to the washer, your clothes were not there. A stroke of panic ran down your spine as your eyes darted across the row of washers, wondering if you had gone to the wrong one. All the other doors were open. You felt a stirring in your stomach as your mind raced with what to do.

"Lose something?"

You turned to see Namjoon coming down the stairs, carrying a laundry basket full of your wet clothes. Your heart beat out of your chest, your vision went black as your mind processed the sight.

"What the fuck, Namjoon?" you asked, yanking the basket from him. Tears came to your eyes as you looked down at the sopping wet clothes.

Namjoon's eyes widened at his words, having expected a snarky quip from you, he released his grip on the basket easily. Fishing for the quarters in his pocket, he held them out to you.

"God, I'm gonna get absolutely no sleep tonight," you said, shoving your half washed clothes back into the washer.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice soft. "What's wrong?"

Once you'd restarted the washer, placing your body physically in front of it to block Namjoon from tampering with it once again, you eyed him.

"I'm only gonna get a few hours of sleep," you said, your voice surprisingly level. "My work clothes are in there." You leaned back against the washer, sighing as you looked down at the time on your phone.

"I-I'm--"

"Save it, Namjoon," you said. "Listen, I know we have this sort of relationship where we mess with each other. But, I'm really not in the mood for it tonight."

Namjoon tried to move towards you, but stopped himself, unsure of exactly what he was going to do or how he could help. He'd never seen you like this before. Dark circles around your eyes, your hair stringy and tousled from running your hands through it, and your posture so tense. Even though the lower half of your face was covered with a bright green mask, he could still make out your frown behind the fabric.

"Just le--" You were cut off by your phone's vibration.

Despite Namjoon having caused your distress, whoever kept calling you made your brow furrow and eyes water in a way that left Namjoon wanting to answer the phone and find out what they had done to you.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. "Who keeps calling you?"

Glancing down at the washer it had now moved onto the second cycle, you ignored. Meeting Namjoon's eyes, it hurt your chest to see the concern in them. After seeing you like this, after getting annoyed with him, he still worried about you.

"Just leave me alone, Namjoon."

✦✧✦✧

It was midnight on Wednesday night when the sound of yelling overtook the melody in his headphones. At first, he didn't think much of it. Many couples lived in the complex, and an occasional fight wasn't uncommon. Then, he heard your voice.

✦✧✦✧

"Jae-ho, what are you doing here? I told you you couldn't come."

"I just want to see you, baby." There was a softness in his voice, but it didn't reach his eyes. You'd been dodging his calls and texts for the past few days, hoping he would get the hint.

"Not until your test comes back negative," you said. "Plus, we really shouldn't be seeing each other that much. Especially since I'm still working."

Your boyfriend let out a long sigh and moved to walk inside. You blocked him, shutting the door slightly and wedging yourself in the gap. This only made him more frustrated, his hands reaching out to touch you.

You let him, allowing his hand to brush your own. You knew it was unlikely your boyfriend would get a positive result, his exposure limited and brief. But you couldn't risk it.

"Are you not scared of spreading it to me? To anyone?"

"I don't have it, babe. I've told you."

"You were still required to get tested. And since I see so many vulnerable people at work, I can't risk it." This wasn't the first time this was an issue. You'd been tested twice already. You job required you to come into contact with people all day, and more than a few confirmed cases had come through your pharmacy.

Jae-ho had had an issue those times too. Coming over when you'd told him not to, calling you until he got sick of dialing your number. You weren't sure how much longer you could take this.

"Are you cheating on me?"

The question lingered in the air as your mouth fell open in shock. Did he think that was the only reason you could not want to see him?

"No, of course not! I'm trying to protect you, Jae-ho!"

"I know you like that neighbor of yours. You still see him, don't you? Why do you see him and not me?"

"We're neighbors! This complex is so tiny, we can't help it!"

Your voice and his gradually rose with your emotions. You barely remember what either of you said after that, you only remembering sliding the promise ring off your finger and flinging it down the stairs.

✦✧✦✧

Namjoon walked down the stairs when he heard your door slam. He came upon your boyfriend, scoffing at your door. When he met the other man's eyes, Namjoon's immediately narrowed.

"Of course," Jae-ho said. He shook his head and walked down the stairs, pausing at the next landing. He bent down to retrieve something and Namjoon stopped focusing on the other man, reaching up to knock on your door.

Namjoon's knuckles didn't even make contact with your door before he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Jae-ho stood a few steps down and held out the gold promise ring you always wore.

"Give this back to Y/N," he said. "I don't want it either."

He handed Namjoon the ring before turning around and leaving for good.

✦✧✦✧

"Y/N?" Namjoon's voice cut through the dark silence of your apartment. You'd everything outside, but not realized that it was Namjoon Jae-ho was talking to. "Are you okay?

You opened the door. You tried to wipe your tears before Namjoon could take in your figure, but it was fruitless. When your eyes met his, you saw his heartbreaking at the sight of you.

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Namjoon said, waiting for you to give the okay for him to enter your apartment. You knew that there was no hiding from Namjoon. The two of you literally lived on top of one another and saw each other almost daily when you did the laundry or took the trash out. There was nearly no way to avoid Kim Namjoon for long.

You moved aside and closed the door behind him. Flopping down on your bed, you looked up at him. "Sorry if we woke you up."

Namjoon shook his head. "You didn't."

"Sorry to interrupt your work then," you said, feeling like you owed the man an apology for more than just this one night. "I didn't mean for it to escalate like that."

Namjoon didn't say anything. He glanced around your apartment, sensing the way that his eyes on you made you uncomfortable.

"You don't need to apologize," he said. "For anything."

You stayed silent, hugging a pillow to your chest.

The silence wasn't tense, but it wasn't calm either. There was something lingering between you. Something keeping Namjoon in your apartment after making sure you were okay. And something that allowed you to let him in at all.

"You know, whenever I was upset or I had trouble sleeping. My mom would always make me milk and cookies. It seems counterintuitive that something sugary helped me sleep. But it never failed."

Namjoon left for his apartment for a moment, coming back with a package of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk. He handed you one of the glasses and sat the package of cookies down beside you.

"Is it okay if I stick around? Just in case your boyfriend tries to come back," Namjoon said. He knew his explanation was flimsy. It was obvious when the man left that he did not intend on coming back.

"Yes," you said, reaching to pull out a cookie and dip it in the milk. "I'd like that."

The two of you ate in silence. Silence rarely occurred when you saw Namjoon, no matter how much he may want it to, but now, you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that it worried him.

"You know, I kinda look forward to hearing you every night," he said. "Lets me take a break from my work. Means I get to come see you."

You chuckled, smiling for the first time that night. "Why do you think I was always loud?" The crunch of a cookie filled your pause. "I knew you would always come complain."

✦✧✦✧

"I have a present for you, Y/N," Namjoon said.

It was the holidays now. Your family was far away and none of you wanted to get on a plane. It saddened you that you wouldn't be able to see your family, but Namjoon had become your solace. He'd usually hear when you got home and about ten minutes later, he'd appear at your door, asking what you were having for dinner that night. Most of the time, you ate together.

It was just like all those other nights, except you didn't have to work the next morning. Namjoon had met you by your door, takeout in hand, and a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Namjoon reached into his backpack and pulled out a wrapped package. The paper was a bit wrinkled, indicating he'd wrapped it himself. It made you smile.

"Oh, wait," you said, getting up and walking to the closet where you pulled out a similarly wrapped package. You handed it to him and looked down at his gift for you.

Tearing off the paper, you laughed when you noticed it was headphones. They were expensive too, which made your stomach turn thinking that he spent so much money on you.

"Open the box," he said, a smug smile on his face.

You ripped open the box, finding crumpled up paper. You felt around until you felt a thin object. Pulling it out. you found a CD.

"It's a mixtape. For you." Namjoon's eyes wandered around the room. "I--uh--hope you'll play it like you do One Direction."

You flung your arms around him, but he stopped you. "There's something else."

You looked down at the box quizzically before you began pulling out the paper. Reaching inside, you felt what you immediately recognized as a ring. Thoughts ran through your mind as you pulled it out.

It was your promise ring from Jae-ho, shinier than when you had last seen it. "He wanted me to give it back to you. But, I knew it might be painful. I had it cleaned and engraved for you."

You turned the ring to see the engraving on the inside: Be Loud - KNJ

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXVI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I promise I have this shit handled there won’t be more drama than needed I PROMISE -Danny

Words: 3,545

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Want You Back’ -by 5sos

Chapter Fourteen: A Distraction.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione explained quickly as she handed a coin to each student. 

"On real Galleons, that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry and Mel set the date of the next meeting they'll change the numbers on their coin, and because we've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic theirs."

"Took the majority of our weekend to make 'em, but I think we did a decent job," Mel smiled proudly.

After a couple of seconds where no one said anything, Hermione added anxiously:

"Well — when Mel told me about this I thought it was a good idea– I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But... well, if you don't want to use them..."

"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Terry Boot.

"Yes," said Hermione. "I mean, Mel and I just learned so they could be a bit faulty, but we're quite sure they'll work just fine..."

"But that's... that's N.E.W.T. standard, that is," he said weakly.

"Oh," said Hermione, trying to sound modest. "Oh... well... yes, I suppose it is..."

"Well, I'm not having lessons with my uncle for nothing," Mel laughed. "I'm a natural talent, and Hermione is a fast learner. You can trust us."

"How come you're not in Ravenclaw?" Terry asked in shock. "With brains like yours?"

"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting," said Hermione with joy, "but it decided on Gryffindor in the end."

"And when the hat sorted me, I was definitely not Ravenclaw-worthy," Mel said, deep in thought. "I wonder if it would change its mind now that I'm older..."

"So does that mean we're using the Galleons?" Hermione insisted.

There was a general agreement and everyone dispersed, Mel went back to the bookshelves and put a bit of order before leaving.

"You're a brilliant teacher," said a voice behind her.

Mel turned around to see Fred standing there, his arms crossed.

"Arranging books isn't that hard... neither is reading them, you know?" She teased.

"I prefer to use my time on more enjoyable things," He shrugged, the boy got closer and picked up a few books to help her. "Like working on my products... talking to pretty girls..."

"What do you want?" She snorted.

"What, I'm nice and suddenly you assume I need something?"

She stared at him knowingly, raising a brow.

"Okay, fine," He sighed. "Some of us talked and decided I was the bloke that had to come and ask you..."

"Ask what?"

"Well, you see, we're confused," He continued carefully. "...About your love life."

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Oh, it's not, believe me," Fred raised a brow. "But my friends are cowards and I'm your friend, so they pushed me to ask you. Because they're really invested in your life, and they want to know–"

"If I'm available?" Mel ended. "Sorry to be the one who tells them this, but I like people who aren't afraid of me."

"They're not afraid of you," The boy hesitated, "not in the way you think."

"I'm their teacher, I can't date them," She replied casually.

"Don't try to give that excuse," Fred responded right away. "Harry's been all over Cho and she's his student as well!"

"Yeah, but I'm not Harry."

Fred stayed quiet for a moment before trying again.

"I don't know why would he choose her over you, though."

"Fred," She warned him. "Not now..."

"No, really," He continued. "I don't know what happened, but you seemed to be having the best time and then the third task came and–"

"Exactly," She dropped a book on the table with a loud thud. "You don't know. No one does and I would appreciate it if everyone could just stop trying to know..."

"We worry about you," He frowned. "You're not the same. Harry's not the same, we know something really awful happened if You-Know-Who's trying to kill you. But you don't have to go through it alone."

"You want to help me?" She turned around, walking up to him and poking his chest with her finger. "Stay out of it. Don't ask. That'll help me more than dating one of your friends."

"I'm not trying to set you up with anyone, I'm just trying to understand!"

"Understand what?" Mel asked in frustration. "I have friends, people listen to me– They invite me places, some even want to date me! I've never been better!"

"You have," He pushed her hand away. "Last year, after Harry pulled you out of the lake–"

"Honestly, to hell with Harry," She scowled. "I don't need him. He doesn't need me. We found common ground while planning these lessons and that's really all the interaction we require. I still care about him and I will help him if he asks nicely, but I don't–"

"Mel–"

"I'm fine!" She raised her voice. "I'm so busy– the lessons and the D.A.– and Umbridge being a pain, and that nagging headache that comes and goes every time this bloody boy gets in trouble–"

"Mel..."

"So what if he wants to date Cho?" She started to pick up more books and setting them in random places. "I'm no one to stop him. We never dated! I can't have feelings for him!"

"But you do."

"Of course I do, Fred!" Mel blurted out. "I'm in love with him!"

The girl closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn't going to cry a second time because of a boy, let alone in front of someone else.

"Hey," Fred stirred into acting and hugged her gently. "I get it... No, I don't. But I don't judge you."

"Why not?" She said hoarsely. "I'm an idiot. He rejected me months ago and I can't let it go."

He shrugged.

"Listen, I'm no expert at romance, but you obviously need time to figure things out. I'll make sure my friends won't annoy you, don't worry, you'll be left alone if that's what you want."

"Not alone," She held onto him in worry. "I don't want to be left alone– just... it'd be nice if they can give me space."

"Whatever suits you, Lady," He agreed. "You know, I'm not used to being the comforting bloke. I'm more the funny type."

"Growing up means you learn how to be both," She said softly. "I think you're great."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere with me," He raised a brow.

"I'd never heard such a blatant lie."

Ron sat down next to her with an air of despair. She put an empty bowl in front of the boy.

"I must've been mental to do this," He mumbled. "Mental."

"Don't be thick," said Harry, sitting on his other side and handing him the cereal. "You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."

"I'm rubbish. I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"

"Ron, when we trained together you were wonderful!" Mel frowned. "Don't let their sneers get to you, you've worked hard!"

"Get a grip," said Harry. "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant —"

"That was an accident!" He said, turning an ugly shade of green. "I didn't mean to do it — I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and I was trying to get back on and I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

"Well," Harry glanced at her in a silent plea, "a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"

"Certainly!" Mel agreed, knowing that even the slightest argument could mess with Ron's spirits.

"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked her brother as soon as she and Hermione sat down.

"He's just nervous," Harry replied quickly.

"Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," said Hermione heartily.

"Definitely helps you be more cautious," Mel nodded, softly rubbing Ron's back.

"Hello," Luna walked up to them, she was wearing a massive Lion head as a hat, which she pointed casually. "I'm supporting Gryffindor. Look what it does..."  She tapped it with her wand. The lion roared so loudly a few students chocked on their food.

"Wicked!" Mel said.

"It's good, isn't it? I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway... good luck, Ronald!"

"Isn't she lovely, Ron?" Mel beamed. "She came to wish you good luck, wasn't that nice?"

"Wonderful," Ron said dryly.

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia appeared behind them.

"When you're ready," Angelina said, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."

"We'll be there in a bit," Harry replied. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."

But no matter how hard Mel and Harry tried to convince him to eat, he refused every attempt. Mel got up to follow the boys outside, Hermione did as well and pulled Harry aside for a second.

"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she whispered.

Mel knew what she was talking about, those badges with 'Weasley is our king' written on them. She'd tried to hex them while no one was looking, but one warning look of Hermione was enough to stop her.

"Good luck, Ron," Hermione put one hand on her friend's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "And you, Harry —"

Mel had to hide her smile after seeing the boy's reaction to Hermione's gesture. Then, as fast as the pleasant feeling appeared, it also came the realization that there was one tradition that she could not do.

She walked quietly next to Ron, praying that Harry was too distracted with his friend to even remember the missing element. She got to the changing rooms and gave Ron a tight hug, whispering soft words of comfort that she knew her friend was not listening.

"Lady!" Fred and George were coming from the castle, and a huge relief washed over her. "Came to wish us good luck?"

Harry froze, she saw him turn and silently cursed the twins, the boy seemed to have forgotten about the tradition, but at the mention he immediately backtracked. Mel ran up to the twins pretending she hadn't seen him.

"I actually came to wish Ron good luck, this being his first game and all," She smiled. "But I guess it'd be better if I wish you all good luck, you need all the good wishes you can get."

"That we do," George frowned, looking at Ron over her shoulder. "How's he doing?"

"If I'm honest, terribly," Mel said grimly. "Please don't mess with him today, all right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," He sighed. "Thank you for your good wishes, Lady."

"No problem," She said brightly.

Mel hugged both -having to stand on her tiptoes but not as much as before- when it was Fred's turn, he held onto her a bit longer to whisper in her ear.

"Wasn't this your tradition with Harry? The good luck hugs?"

"I can't do it!" Mel said, holding onto Fred tighter. "What should I do?"

"Well, you could be a twat and leave after I break the hug," He offered. "Or you could stop being silly and just wish him good luck as well. You don't have to hug him or anything..."

She gulped.

"Fine. Thank you."

Fred stepped back, his usual playful grin appearing.

"Hey, if I remember correctly the hug always comes with a kiss– Where's ours?"

"Win the game and you might get it," She snickered.

Fred and George walked past -not without ruffling her hair first- and left her at Harry's mercy. True to Fred's words, he approached her.

"You know..." He started. "I'm glad you came to wish us good luck and... er–"

"Of course," Mel said. "Ron's one of my best friends."

Harry lowered his gaze.

"Yeah, I know that..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "See you..."

Harry looked up, those gloomy eyes finding hers.

"Good luck," She said, nodding shortly and leaving before her urge for physical contact could convince her to do something stupid.

Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin, He always lets the Quaffle in,

Weasley will make sure we win,

Weasley is our King.

"Hermione I beg you," Mel groaned. "One hex, let me do it once and I promise I'll be quiet for the rest of the game."

"I can't, Mel. If you do it I'll have to take points from you."

"But listen to them!"

"I know! But it's best if we just ignore it–"

"Not for Ron it isn't!" Mel huffed.

Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King.

"Tell me, nutty," Pansy pushed her way through the crowd. "How does it feel to know you're about to lose to Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Who said we're losing?" Mel asked without looking at her, her knuckles white from the effort of keeping a neutral attitude.

"— and Pucey's dodged Alicia again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"

The crowd on her side groaned and swore under their breath. Pansy laughed happily.

"Are you going to comfort your boyfriend after the game is over? I can picture him all grumpy and mean– and you still melt around him as if he were the cutest kitten!"

"You're one to talk," Mel rolled her eyes. "Harry's not my boyfriend. When your friends care about you that's what you do, you comfort them. But of course you wouldn't know, you have no real friends..."

"You call that group of admirers your friends?" Pansy sneered. "As if they actually cared about you, they just talk to you because they're brainless!"

"Is that why you're talking to me, then? Leave me alone. I want to watch the game."

"Pansy, we should move," She heard Daphne Greengrass's voice. "We're surrounded..."

Pansy pushed Mel's shoulder as she walked past, which wasn't any better, cause now she had no excuse to not pay attention to the tragedy happening in front of her.

Poor Ron couldn't catch a break and Mel felt something growing around her, her anxiety and anger were building up as the Slytherin sang louder. Mel breathed in and out several times, she looked down to the part of the railing she was holding and saw her hands were leaving a dark stain on it.

Suddenly, Harry dived down to catch the snitch, Malfoy following suit. Her mood lifted instantly, if she could trust in something, that was Harry's quidditch skills. In a matter of seconds, Harry stabilized his broom, the snitch safely guarded inside his palm.

Mel was in the middle of letting out a relieved sigh when a bludger hit Harry right at the base of his back, the impact pushed him out of his broom and Mel's stomach dropped even though he had been merely four or five feet away from the ground.

"Is he all right?!" Mel leaned over the railing and Hermione was quick to hold her back.

She heard Parvati and Lavender giggling behind her.

"Oh, there it is," Lavender laughed.

"You had us worried, Mel! Ever since the year started we were wondering whether if you had moved on from your little crush..."

"Yeah, for a moment you fooled us!" Lavender laughed, though it wasn't meant to be mocking. "But hey, if he goes to the hospital wing again we'll make sure to send you breakfast and dinner so you don't famish while you look after him."

Harry was okay after all, and he got up like nothing had happened. After she confirmed this, a wave of annoyance hit her.

Why, even after all those months staying away from him, people kept insisting on calling her Harry's admirer? That was long over! She wouldn't drop everything just to help him. She could've ignored those comments when Fred mentioned them, and she could've let it go when Pansy taunted, but for some reason, hearing her own classmates say it made her blood boil.

She wasn't an extension of Harry, she was her own person! She even regretted telling Fred she was in love. She was not. Definitely not.

She saw the girls in the team holding Fred back, and George being held back by Harry. Her eyes soon found Malfoy, who was saying something to them with a nasty smirk.

"We have a problem," She told Hermione and quickly made her way out of the stands to stop whatever Malfoy was attempting to create.

"Or perhaps," Malfoy was saying as she arrived, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"

Harry and George jumped into action, not even caring about pulling out their wands, they went at it with their bare fists.

"Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!"

Mel pushed some people out of the way, but the scandal caught everyone's attention and it was harder to get to them.

"IMPEDIMENTA!" Madame Hooch shouted. Harry and George flew far from Malfoy's reach. "What do you think you're doing? I've never seen behaviour like it — back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"

Malfoy was whimpering on the ground, completely beaten. Fred was being held by the three Gryffindor chasers and he was completely red. Harry and George got up, panting and bleeding, bruised all over. She felt her knuckles tingling, the side of her head was pounding. Harry was hurting.

She walked up to Fred instead.

"It's okay!" She yelled at the girls. "I got this!"

She saw their relieved expressions, everyone knew that the only student the twins would listen to apart from Lee was Mel. They let him go, and he tried to walk up to Malfoy, but Mel stood in his way.

"Calm down!" She held him back. "Your brother's in trouble already, don't do this to Angelina!"

"You didn't hear what he was saying," Fred used a voice she'd never heard before. "That fucking rat–"

"It's over," Mel insisted, trying to ignore the pulsations on her body that she knew belonged to Harry's side of the lifeline. "Look at him! The guy's pulp at this point..."

"Yeah, but he's not dead, so there's a few things I can do..." He tried to get rid of her, but Mel only moved her hands up to cup his face and forced him to look at her.

"You're not doing anything! You'll get punished too!"

"It'll be worth it!" He insisted. "And you can't stop me!"

Mel was angry for several reasons. She was angry because Harry was angry, and she'd been through a roller coaster of emotions that morning. She was vulnerable and having a hard time muting out Harry's feelings. She just couldn't do it.

She was pissed because no matter how far from Harry she'd stand, people kept seeing her as his delusional devotee, it didn't matter how nice she was with the rest of the school, most only talked to her out of pure selfish interest, either popularity or trying to have their way with her.

It was humiliating to see how everyone just continued to compare her to the men in her life. Like she couldn't be relevant on her own. If she didn't have a voice, at least she'd make sure no one would look at her and think she was Harry's.

Mel held Fred's face tighter and pulled him down in a sudden kiss. She heard gasps and whispers all around her, she felt Fred going terribly stiff for a second before abruptly reciprocating. His actions took her by surprise and she yelped, jumping out of reach.

Fred blinked, his arms hovering on the same place where her figure had been seconds before, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Wha..?" He said, sounding completely lost. "What?"

"You won," She blurted out, looking around and realizing than most of her classmates had seen her. "I said that if you won, I'd kiss you–"

"You said maybe," He interrupted in bewilderment.

"I know what I said!" Mel felt like she could faint out of pure embarrassment. "Maybe I just wanted to kiss you!"

"Well, maybe I should ask you on a date!" He replied defensively.

"I'd say yes, thank you!" The girl pulled her robes up her neck. Then she added in discomfort. "Can we please leave now?"

The boy noticed everyone was looking at them and nodded. They left the field, keeping as much distance between them as possible.

'What have I done?' Mel thought in distress.

Next Chapter —> 

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @sarcasticallywitty15 @21bruhs

[g--r-e--e-n]

The Crow

A late Mammon x GN!MC for the Max thingy!

Warnings: It obviously talks about a crow, just in case. The ending might seem quite rushed, I'm sorry, it was already too long :(. No spoilers, everything is before the MC's actual arrival to the Devildom.

Loud music echoing all around your house, singing and dancing like a madman through the corridors like it was no body's business, mopping the floor and trying to make something nice out of your free days.

Everything was perfect, just the way anyone would have always liked it. Yet, somehow… It felt empty, bitter, almost painful.

It hadn't been long since you and who you thought was your other half broke up. But you couldn't allow yourself to feel sad, not now.

You're young, you're strong, and you have a lovely future. You repeat it over and over, trying to turn the music louder than any thoughts you may have. It might not be the easiest thing to do, but trying won’t murder you, will it?

Finally there was not a single shadow of dust in your apartment. Not that there was anything before, but it helped keeping yourself busy. Now, finally, you only had to get rid off all the rubbish you somehow managed to collect.

You reluctantly turned off the music and made your way to the bins. Luckily, they weren't too far away: It was a cold, rainy day, and you'd rather stay at home instead of fighting the wind with your little umbrella,your hair a mess and your socks now wet.

Your day couldn't really get worse, yet you started doubting it the second you saw something dark moving in between feral pieces of litter someone didn't care about enough to throw correctly.

For a second you started believing in ghosts and God knows what but,soon enough, you saw a crow's deep black feathers, a painful caw breaking through the air like a thunder.

It was hurt, hungry, wet and cold. You could see how it bended it's right wing, unable to fly, a poor creature begging you with it's eyes, deep as the galaxy, were you clearly saw yourself, wet hair sticking to your face, comfortable yet not too fashionable clothes, eye bags hanging from your eyelashes, as pitiful as the poor bird in front of you, even if your wound was emotional rather than physical.

You didn't think twice before throwing your own raincoat over the creature, knowing that holding it with your bare hands would be rather dangerous.

Soon you headed home, crow surrounded in plastic like some bizarre newborn baby. It seemed to be weirdly docile, given its nature, but you soon learned to give it its space, holding it away from your face, barely able to keep the umbrella over your soaked bodies.

As soon as you get home, you lay him down carefully, keeping an eye on him and slowly getting rid of your wet shoes and reaching your phone.

The bird seemed scared, but it didn't move, eyes staying fixed on yours, its screams sounding more like begging than dangerous.

You soon sent a message to your good old friend Liam. Sure, Google is interesting, but Liam is your neighbor, a vet, and you've known him for years. This is not your first time rescuing feral animal in danger, so you knew for a fact you can rely on him.

Soon, he messaged you back, telling you that he's on his way with a cage so he can take the crow to the clinic. You couldn't help but chuckle, of course Liam wouldn't allow you to take the poor little thing in your arms, knowing how it could reduce your skin to vaguely human-flavored threads.

However, this also left you with a couple minutes alone with this somehow magnificent king of dumpsters. After observing him from a while, you walk backwards towards the kitchen. As soon as you could, you reapeared, hard bread on your hands and a smile on your lips, seeing how the bird stood still. Not that he had much option, of course. His right leg didn't seem too fine either.

Breaking a small piece of bread, you carefully and pretty cowardly throw it at the crow, thinking it would land before him, but being rather amused by the way the creature just catches it ever so quickly.

When Liam came, you had almost ran out of bread, and both the crow and you seemed so engaged in the game of throwing and catching that you barely realized the young man walking into the room, hair wet and a miracously almost dry cardboard box that you supposed was originally meant for holding fruit at the market,

You almost jumped when you heard him call you by your name, but soon your fear turned into a warm and welcoming hug, never minding his cold body, or how the crow ruffled its feathers, wishing it could growl in this pitiful form that barely managed him to caw drily. Something about the tall brunette slowly stroking your lower back managed to piss it off.

"Oh my God, you are such a mess!" Happily, and always positively, saluted you Ian. At times you feel like he doesn't really know when he's not supposed to be sincere, but not wanting to keep your new little friend waiting, you decide to keep your big mouth shut. "So... Where's our guy?"

His bright smile calms you down a bit, but its effects are quickly reversed by how the crow clumsily tries to run away, jumping on its one functional leg, only tangling itself with the raincoat still surrounding it.

Liam gives you a raised eyebrow. "I know I told you not to touch it too much, but a blanket would've been nice, you know?"

You simply shrug it off, not wanting to admit that you got too distracted feeding it to even be a decent human. The crow apparently agrees with Liam, because suddenly it's easy to move around again. You probably thought it was simply a funny coincidence, because, well crows are clever but, as far as you know, not THAT clever.

Who would've thought a poor demon would've gotten cursed by some witch? Not you, or not seriously, at least. As much as you love those sort of themes, reality doesn't allow them to become true.

A crow is just a crow, as clever as it could be. Not more, not less.

“Whatever. Let's do our thing, it's getting so late..." You softly sighted, eyes slowly dancing towards your window, the sky getting darker every second. Too invested in cleaning your bad memories out, you had barely realized how time had passed. Did you even have lunch?

If Liam noticed the brief sadness in your expression, he decided to leave you be, carefully holding the injured crow before leaving him in the cardboard box. The bird moved, cawed, yes, but he didn't seem to put too much of a fight. After all, Mammon might be a fool, but he'd much rather get back to Lucifer as soon as possible, thank you very much. Hanging upside down is not a pleasant experience.

Soon you were silently in Liam's car, the box resting in the backseat. Your friend's warm brown eyes were fixed in the road, but you both knew each other too well. He knew you were having a bad time. You knew he was plotting something.

"You know, after we drop our new son..." He softly said, taking a turn to the right. You braced yourself, both for his harsh driving and the proposal in coming. "We could go to the club, like in the good old days."

You softly laughed it off, even knowing Liam would easily catch the bitter feeling growing in your throat. "You know I'm trying to save my money, Liam. It doesn't grow from trees."

"I mean, technically..." He shrugged, turning now to the left. Even if he was being particularly gentle in order not to turn your feathery friend into a smoothie, you still had to stop yourself from screaming when the car almost ran over an elderly lady. "C'mon! There's a zebra cross like... Eleven meters away?!"

You slightly turned, sighing in relief seeing the crow is still safe.

"What I was saying" Liam continued, much to your dismay "I can pay for you, you know? I'm gaining some good cash now, and I don't have that many expenses. Plus, I'm pretty sure I owe you one from back in highschool."

A faint, but at least genuine laugh was thrown into the air as memories came back. Summer nights lying in the sand, gossiping and laughing, having a good time. "You dummy, that was ages ago! I just... Don't feel like going anywhere crowded."

"What about my place then? I've got some nice cheap booze. You look like you could use it."

He teasingly flashed you a bright smile before finally hitting the brakes and getting off the car. It was hard, but you managed to get out without fainting along the way.

"Well, thank you very much sir. You too look alluring" you sarcastically commented, before going to pick up the crow that stared at you so firmly with its jet black eyes that you felt the void within them could shallow you entirely any time.

Mammon doesn't have the best attention spam, or any sort emotional intelligence, but bring money to the equation and it may just change.

The human was short on money. Something Mammon, of course, understood very well. The human, even if a lowly human, had also saved him.

His little braincells were working hard, wondering if it was right to do what he thought to do. What if you were some terrible person underneath? What if you were a witch looking for a pact?

Luckily, he didn't have much time to drown himself in conspiracies, for soon he wad bring brought to the vet, and, by the way he was moving around, he did not enjoy it.

"Oh, C'mon, buddy..." You softly complained, struggling to hold onto the cardboard while Liam opened the clinic's door, fighting against the key. "I know it hurts. Just... Hold on a little, alright? Be a brave little boy for me"

You smiled at the crow, Liam suddenly laughing his soul off, loud enough for you not to pay much attention at the effect your words had had on the poor creature emiting broken caws.

"Do you always have to do that?" He mercilessly mocked you, finally opening the door and holding it for you, mainly because your arms were too busy, both with the crow and the hard fight against yourself to keep you from strangling Liam. "Come in, leave it on my table and wait outside, alright? Here, get yourself some coffee."

He absent mindedly thew you a coin. When Liam entered the clinic, he was no longer your dear and annoying friend Liam. He was the doctor. And the doctor was very cool at doing his thing, but pretty much useless at anything else.

Useless enough to throw a coin to someone holding a crow.

Of course, you couldn't just drop the guy or get the coin with your mouth like some dog, so you simply stared at him waiting for the realization to kick in. However, to your surprise, the crow threw itself as the coin, with as much grace as a bird with a wounded leg and wing can throw themselves at anything, which is, sadly, not much.

Luckily you did manage to keep him from failing, a soft smile flourishing as you saw him holding onto the coin.

"Please? I want to finish soon, the rum won't finish itself tonight." Liam was now in front of you, slightly surprising you. Trying your best to hide it, you hand him the crow. He simply sighed, struggling a bit to take the coin out from his beak, holding it out to you while taking the crow like a perfect choreography. "There you go."

You exaggerated an angry face as he petted your head a few times, managing to keep the animal in one arm like it was just natural before disappearing after the door.

Liam didn't like having you around while he works, specially if he knows it can involve anything even a bit gruesome. But this time you simply feel the need to be there with the pitiful crow, to help him and bring some hope into his beautiful eyes that seemed ever so intelligent.

The loud caws only made it worse, so you decided to get some coffee into your life.

Coffee at the clinic is bitter and far too strong, but Liam insists it's the only thing keeping him from falling asleep after specially complicated shifts.

You didn't really think twice before chugging it down, regretting it immediately. You were already nervous enough, why add caffeine?

You soon began wandering around the waiting room you knew so well, roaming next to the door to try and catch a glimpse of what could be going on in its guts. Liam is a good bet, but, what if something had gone wrong? What if it was not fixable?

A crow is not something you can keep in your house, is it? What would you do then? The closest animal rescue center is so far away, but perhaps you could take a few days off your obligation. After the whole situation with your ex, it’s very much needed.

Your constant thinking was soon relieved by a softly smiling Liam walking in with the crow resting in the cardboard box, looking all over like it too felt uncomfortable there. Its broken wing had been carefully wrapped in what experience told you was coflex. You couldn’t see his leg, but it must be in a similar situation.

“Our little man here has beheaved just fine” Liam said, softly. As much as he always made fun of how you spoke to animals, he was not that different. I mean, he did dedicate his whole life to this, didn’t he? “He should be able to fly in… Perhaps two weeks? It’s not a multiple fracture, which is rather relieving, but who knows.”

You slightly frowned. You did expect something similar, of course, but you wouldn’t normaly expect a bird with a broken wing to be half as lively as this one had been. A part of you admired his strenght, yes, but the other one felt simply curious.

“What about the leg?” you softly ask, bending a bit to see the creature eye to eye, barely saving enough distance to ensure your safety. “It couldn’t walk. What is it?”

“Give it around five or seven days and he will be walking all over” He tried your best to cheer you up, so you decided to at least gift him a little smile. “And he even seems to be eating well, so no need to worry, alright?”

You noded, standing up again to throw the empty cup of coffe in the bin, its bitter taste slowly dissappearing from your mouth as this new, warm feeling took you all over.

“So… Your house, right?” You flash Liam a smile while taking the crow carefuly. It seems to struggle against it for a bit, but soon relaxes. What else could it do?

Liam didn’t even bother to confirm what you already knew to be true, as he opened the doors once again and you stepped outside, the night’s cold air against your skin. Before you even realized it, you were siting in his kitchen, the crow resting on the counter, warm tears on your face, the burning feeling of alcohol down your throat… And dedscending through a rabbit hole of blurry memories and complains.

Trust me, there are many things you regret. But getting ever so wasted is deffinetly within the number ten.

You wanted to keep on with your life, you wanted to do your best, to show yourself you didn’t need any “other half” to be completed. You know, being active and stuff, putting yourself together.

But here you were, laying down in your bed on a Saturday afternoon, staring at your ceiling in pain and hunger, too hangover to even sit up and absolutely obliterate the bird that was screaming so loudly. God, that surely is another big regret of yours right now.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to let it starve, not again, so you slowly roll out from bed, holding your head with your hand, the same clothes you wore yesterday all wrinkled around your body.

“I know, I know.” You complain as if the bird knew what you were saying, too naive to realice he, in fact, was. It didn’t take you long to cross your rather small appartment to reach the kitchen, were you apparently dropped the bird yesterday, not that you remember much about it. You lazily searched for the bag Liam had given you, filled with sunflower seeds and… Crickets?

You look at the bird, hesitating a bit before sighing and walking towards it, leaving the open bag for it to eat and, hopefully, not get your floor too dirty. It seemed to be pretty hungry, as it devoured his meal without a single complain, quicker than ever. After all, Mammon was used to eat before Beelzebub could even dream of stealing his dear fuel.

Oh, how he missed his brothers. What could they be doing? Perhaps they didn’t even realice. Perhaps they were happier that way. He has always been “the scummy second born”, after all, so isn’t it a favour to dissapear like this?

You didn’t quite understand what was going on, but you did realice the way the crow’s eating speed decayed. Before struggling a bit against yourself and your huge headache, you spread your arm towards the bird, not daring to touch it, relieved when it didn’t seem too keen on murdering you, at least by the moment.

“Come here, little guy…” You carefuly stroke his head a few times. It seemed to enjoy it, but you still felt a bit too insecure to maintain the contact for too long. “You will be flying again in no time.”

You soon went to do your own thing, drink your pretty late breakfast, sit by the counter and silently tink of some name for your newfound friend. Little did you know this was but the start of a very wicked story.

The bird, who, to Mammon’s dismay you had called Liquorice, proved to be a rather interesting company, even when he could not move that much for the first few days. You found yourself spending most of your free time playing with him, or even telling him your deepest of secrets, not like he could judge you.

It was relaxing, no façade to be held, not a lie to be uttered. It was Liquorice and you, and it felt perfect. Either way, seeing how clingy he slowly grew to be, it’s not like it was one sided.

In four days the crow could already run around, and it seemed to want to look outside. Of course Mammon loved your company, but he was still worried. A part of him thought it was foolish, that nobody would miss him, but he knew Lucifer far too well.

Seeing how his wing wasn’t still healed, you decided to accompany him to his little walks all over the town’s outskirts, and it seemed to even strenghthen your relationship. You still cound’t be anywhere with people or vehicles, but fresh air was nice enough to make your black and white world broaden a bit.

Days passed by quicker than either Mammon or you would’ve thought, too lost in your little shennanigans to even mind the clock. Soon the crow was able to fly, as you discovered when it leaped from the fridge to the hallway, happily cawing around.

At first it was a happy moment, and you soon sent a hundred videos to Liam to show him how the little crow was doing so well. However, soon both of you had to face a realization: His time here was over.

Liquorice was a wild animal as far as you were concerned, of course, and you did not have the guts to keep him trapped. Not after knowing how that felt. However, something inside you felt uncomfortable with the idea of seeing your house empty again. Mammon, of course, also felt uneasy, but for very different reasons.

You see, for you this all had been helping a very funny crow. But he was a tad more conscious of the whole situation, and trust me, it was putting him through hell. Sure, he wanted to return to his brothers, but… What about this human?

He tried to convince himself this was just him wanting to protect a weak being as a “thank you”, but his lie was too obvious to ignore. He had seen you at your worst, in the nights when you drank alone and talked for hours about someone he simply knew did not deserve you. He had seen you at your best, dancing all across your house when you recieved any good news, cooing at him when he did even the smallest of things, like it was a great archievement you could barely believe. You had hold him close, you had kissed the top of his head, stared for ages into his eyes, not realizing the effect none of your actions had in him. He had slowly started to care, and he was not enjoying that idea, but what could he do?

He’s just a crow, and now that there’s no excuse for you to keep him around, it’s his time to go and dissapear, turning into a vague memory. God, why did he feel so impotent now?

You both struggled against yourselves in silence, until you came up with an idea.

“Let’s give it a day, alright, buddy? Just to see if you still remember how to move those wings of yours”

You showed him an empty smile he could tell from miles apart, but he couldn’t do much about it, drowning too deep into his own feelings.

The following day, both of you stayed at home, playing your little games of fetch, you laughing at how the crow beheaved almost like a little puppy, him silently swooning over the sweet sound of your laughter, almost forgetting the bitterness of the situation until night actually fell and it was time to close this wonderful little adventure.

You were both lying in the living room when night came, exhausted from running around, breathing heavily with a big smile to your face like it didn’t hurt.

“You know… I think it’s time already, right?” You slowly stand up, yawning softly. You didn’t really get too much sleep last night, and you sure as hell needed it. “Time to be free, little guy! Here, come.”

You carefully pick him up, close to your chest. You knew him too well to think he would hurt you, and the warmth was greatly appreciated by Mammon, who snuggled a bit within your embrace, trying to save this moment forever deep in his memories.

Being the avatar of greed, he’s used to the feeling of wanting, and, at times, not being able to. Yet, somehow, it didn’t stop this ugly feeling from blossoming in his now feathery chest. He felt so pathetic like this, so worked up because of a human being.

He and his brothers knew very damn well this wouldn’t lead anywhere nice. What could he do? Even if he managed to stay here, he knows his family can’t take another Lilith, and every second he spends here it’s harder not to fall even deeper for this trap his father seemed to have laid just for him.

Mammon convinced himself it was for the better, and soon did you. When you set him free to fly in the park next to your house, he didn’t even bother to look back as you screamed your goodbyes, the poor people around the park staring at you with a raised eyebrow as you soon deinflated with a big sight, knowing your routine was back to haunt you forever.

And of course, it did. You were back to doing your thing, spending your afternoons either with Liam and his new boyfriend or watching bad movies all by yourself, barely feeling certain melancholy as you found some stray feather hidden in your couch.

Liquorice was gone. Little did you know Mammon was not.

The young boy had found Lucifer as soon as he had left the park, and their little chat had been… Interesting. But at least it didn’t lead to his death, but rather to some extra chores and, finally, the hex coming undone, which meant he could always try to come back, even if he could no longer take certain adventage of your inocence.

Of course he went back to the House and Lamentation, and was made to attend every RAD lesson, but as soon as he was out of sight he was already walking over to your house, “accidentally” bumping you in the street from time to time, always trying his best to hide his identity, knowing you would probably be weirded out by always seeing the same guy around, and how easily his fluffy white hair and glasses could be told from any crowds.

You didn’t really think much of the many faceless guys you happened to encounter, of course. But what really made you ask yourself certain questions was the amount of little things showing up on your window frame, from stray coins to little glittery plastic jewelry. You didn’t want to think too much of it, but thinking it was Liquorice warmed your heart a little, and it was much less disturbing that thinking some random guy was passing daily around your home.

Mammon couldn’t help but swoon over the way you smiled, pressing his little gifts to your chest and looking through the window, the poor demon barely managing to stay invisible and attached to a tree he didn’t trust that much (C’mon, human, what made ya think livin’ on a fith floor was a good idea?), too scared to face you, too scared to leave.

Who would’ve told him it would be you, even if dragged by his dearest (and very aware) brother who would eventually face him, a feather necklace on your neck, smiling unkowingly and turning his little world upside down?

[princess-of-riviaa]

Bewitching the Witcher Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Summary: Geralt grows more desperate in his search for a cure as you continue to get sicker. Meanwhile, you’re trying to mend to your broken heart while clinging desperately to sanity. Geralt still refuses to go anywhere near you. You’re desperate to change that.

Series Summary: You and The Witcher aren’t meant to be together. In fact, the only thing you two should be doing is getting as far away from each other as fast as you can. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t. But he’s just too tempting to resist.

Author’s note: This story will have one more part after this (5 parts in total). As my first Geralt fic and series that I’ve written for tumblr, it makes me as ecstatic as a kid in a candy shop that so many people have kept up with this story and enjoyed it. I love all of my followers for their continuous support and thank everyone who has invested even a few minutes to read some of my writing.

Warning(s): yeah this one’s gonna be another heartbreaker, sorry about that; smut isn’t until later in the story; masturbation (f), voyeurism, fingering, oral (f receiving)

Nothing was the same after you got sick.

Geralt went on a rampage, rushing you and Jaskier to every town in search of a mage or a medic who might know a remedy to heal you. None did. He went through pounds of coin everyday, since every mage and medic demanded your money just to for them to examine you. When Geralt wasn’t tearing the streets of each town in desperation, he was off hunting, if only so he’d get more coin to ask more mages and medics a question that couldn’t be answered.

Jaskier worked just as hard. He went with Geralt to every person who had any knowledge in medicine. When Geralt was off hunting, Jaskier was performing anywhere he good get good coin. And when he wasn’t doing either of those things, he was by your side. He kept you company in the terrifying hours when your deliriousness took over, if only because Geralt refused to be anywhere near you when the sickness took hold of your mind. Jaskier was the one to remind you of where you were and what was going on--and, in the nights when your deliriousness got really bad, he reminded you who you were, too. Jaskier quickly became your best friend. You loved him as much as you loved Geralt; in a different way, of course, but just as intensely. Having him by your side was, for a while, the only thing that kept you going.

While Geralt and Jaskier stayed busy night and day, you barely managed to stay on your feet. You get worse with each passing day. It started with just passing out for hours at a time; scary, but nothing you couldn’t handle. When you were awake and functioning, you felt normal. Geralt even still let you go on hunts with him. And then, a couple days later, your entire body began feeling weak constantly. It took it out of you just to walk a few miles. You slept any chance you had. Still, you never felt refreshed. A couple days after that was when you began experiencing delirious spells. At first it was just small things--you lost track of time and couldn’t remember what town you were in. Everyone really began to panic when you had to ask Jaskier’s name one evening. Memories began fading right in front of your eyes and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You never forgot about your heartache, though. You hated being away from Geralt now, but you probably hated being near him just as much. He never looked at you anymore. He always kept distance between you and him. It hurt so much more than the pain in your head. Some nights you’d stay awake crying, just begging for your sickness to make you forget about Geralt. Maybe then you’d be able to find some peace in your last few days. But you never forgot. And you could never escape him. He haunted you even in your dreams. At least in your dreams he spoke to you, even if it was just to spit in your face and say that your sickness disgusted him. You disgusted yourself, too. You were no longer a Witcher. You were the walking dead.

...

After three weeks, you finally stumbled upon someone with answers in Temeria: another Witcher. The three of you found the woman in a bar of a nameless town. With her fighting leathers and countless swords and daggers, it was clear to anyone that she was a Witcher. You and Jaskier exchanged a hopeful look as Geralt neared her.

“Witcher, we need your help,” you heard Geralt say as you huddled by the door with Jaskier. Luckily your Witcher senses were still in tact. You didn’t have to strain to hear Geralt from the other side of the room.

The woman didn’t even look up at him before spitting, “I don’t clan with other Witchers. I fight my monsters on my own.”

“I don’t need your help to kill,” Geralt said in his deep, husky voice. “I need your help to save someone.”

“What’s going on?” Jaskier wondered beside you. “What are they saying?”

You held up a hand to show you were still listening to them.

The female Witcher finally looked over at Geralt and took him in. “Saving what?”

Geralt hesitated. “Another Witcher.”

The Witcher laughed. “You’re stupider than you look. There’s no potion or tonic that can’t fix an injury.”

Geralt swallowed. “It’s not that kind of an injury.”

Silence.

You waited for the blow, for the Witcher to spew insults at Geralt. But all she said was, “You really are stupider than you look.”

Geralt said nothing in defense.

“Where’s The Witcher?” the female asked.

You began moving towards Geralt. Jaskier helped you walk, letting you lean on him if you got tired. It took you a full minute to cross the bar when it should have taken twenty seconds.

The female Witcher took you in. She eyed your pale skin, the bags under your eyes, the bones sticking out in all the wrong places. The way she looked at you would have made your cheeks with embarrassment, but people had been looking at you like that for weeks now. So instead you held her gaze and dared her to say what she was really thinking.

“How long have you been sick?” The Witcher asked you.

Geralt answered for you. “Nearly three weeks. Is there anything you know to do? Any remedy or potion to cure this?”

The Witcher looked between you and Geralt. “Lying with other Witchers is forbidden for a reason.” She picked up a scarred finger and pointed at you. “This is the reason.”

“You’re not the first person to spit in our faces that it’s an abomination,” you said, because you knew Geralt wouldn’t defend either of you. “We knew of the rules. We aren’t stupid.”

“If lack of intelligence isn’t your issue, it’s hubris,” she said. “Did you really think that you two could break the rule and you’d be the lucky ones? Did you really not expect any repercussions to your lust?”

You were quiet. You had, actually. That first time with Geralt you’d been waiting for someone to swing the axe, but when nothing had happened, you thought... You’d been stupid. You’d let your hope blind you. The universe didn’t pick sides--especially not for Witchers.

“Is there a cure or not?” Geralt growled.

The Witcher looked back at him. There was a flash of pity in her eyes that broke her nonchalant mask. “She’s been sick for three weeks, Witcher. You already know the answer to that question.” She looked back at you. “The only cure for your sickness is death.”

The Witcher had barely gotten the words out before Geralt was on his feet and charging out the door. You and Jaskier rushed after him. You weren’t nearly fast enough to keep up, but you knew where he was headed.

He was deep in the woods, sitting beside a quiet river when you found him. You looked at Jaskier and asked for him to give you and Geralt a moment. He said he would meet you two back in town and find an inn for you to stay the night. You nodded your thanks before watching him walk off. Reluctantly, you turned your attention to Geralt.

The sight of him broke you. You wanted nothing more than to run to him and feel his big arms hold you to him. You wanted to rest your head against his chest and feel his calm heartbeat. You wanted to kiss him until the sun went down, until the sun came back up. You wanted him so much it was killing you.

“There’s no cure,” he said, knowing you were behind him, knowing you were looking at him with longing. “There’s no damn cure!” He’d been holding a medium-sized rock in his hand and now threw it into the river. It skipped over the water three times before sinking below the surface.

You walked to his side and leaned against a tree beside him. It took everything inside of you not to reach out and run your hands through his hair. “It’s okay.”

He rose to his feet in a flash and turned on you, his eyes burning bright with anger. “How the hell am I supposed to be okay with this?!”

You were quiet. In the beginning, all you and Geralt had done was fight. You’d bicker and snap at each other endlessly. But he never yelled at you. He’d never looked at you like this--like he wanted to hurt you.

Fear must have been written on your face because he took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I’m sorry.” He hung his head, no doubt turning his anger inward now.

You stepped towards him. “I’m in love with you, Geralt of Rivia.”

He looked up at you, surprise written all over his face. He wasn’t expecting that to be your next words. “Y/N--”

“No.” There was a demand in your voice. “I’m going to say this, because I haven’t said it for three weeks and it’s been killing me, and you’re going to shut up and listen.”

When he didn’t say anything, you continued.

“I’m in love with you, Geralt. I’m so in love with you I can’t see straight. I can’t fucking breathe when you’re not next to me. I love you with everything inside of me. That’s why I’m saying it’s okay. Because I am more than willing to die for you. I actually can’t think of a better way to go out.”

His features hardened the longer you spoke. “So it’s fine for you to die. Fine. But what about the rest of us you’re leaving behind?” He stepped towards you, the angry look on his face morphing into one of pain. “What about me, Y/N? What the fuck am I supposed to do when you’re dead and it’s my fault?”

“I chose this!” You argued. “I chose to be with you again and again. We both knew what we were getting ourselves into and we did it anyway. That Witcher was right--we can’t evade the consequences. So if this is what I get for all those times I kissed you and felt you touch me...” A knot formed in your throat. Your body ached for him to touch you again, and he was so close... “It was worth it to me, Geralt. I chose this path. You don’t get to take that away from me and blame it on yourself.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and breathed you in. You closed your eyes in bliss. This was the most he’d touched you in almost a month. You ached to move closer to him, but feared he would run if you did.

“I don’t let myself need anyone,” he whispered. “That’s not a luxury I can afford, not when I’m a Witcher. But you, Y/N, gods... how am I supposed to live without you?”

You brushed your fingers over his hair with a featherlight touch, unable to resist any longer. “I’ll still be with you even when I’m... not.” You pressed your hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch. “I’ll always be here, even centuries from now. You’ll feel me beside you everytime you hunt a berserker. You’ll feel me everytime you hear Jaskier play one of his ridiculous songs. Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I���m going anywhere, Geralt. I don’t think my soul knows how to leave you.”

When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at your mouth. You were mere inches apart from each other. The closest you’d been in so long...

You kissed him. Before he could pull back or say something to ruin the moment, you kissed him. It was a simple brush of your mouth against his, hardly even a kiss, but you felt his desire with that simple touch. You realized he’d been missing you just as much as you’d been aching for him. Your body burned as he kissed you harder, pulling you against him, and you let out a groan when you felt his hardening cock press against your stomach.

“Geralt...” you moaned.

And then he pulled away from you. You let out a whimper at the sudden loss of touch. You knew you couldn’t ask him to kiss you again. You were grateful he’d even let down his guard enough to do it once. Geralt wouldn’t be going near you anytime soon.

The two of you walked back to town in silence.

...

Your body was still burning long after the taste of him left your mouth. You were on edge, unable to find comfort no matter what you did that night. Geralt and Jaskier watched you leave as you retired early for the night. Hopefully some distance from him would help. It didn’t.

You tossed and turned for hours in your bed. Your body ached for him badly enough that now you couldn’t even find peace in sleep. There was only one thing left to do.

You threw the blankets back and spread your legs, imagining it was Geralt’s thick, scarred fingers touching your most intimate parts. Wetness was already pooled between your legs. You had no doubt that you’d been wet all evening. His simple kiss had awakened a fire inside of you that had cooled since your sickness began, but now it was burning hotter than ever. You moved your fingers in a circle over your clit, whimpering out Geralt’s name.

You knew how to touch yourself; you’d been on your own for centuries, you’d had to learn how to satisfy your own cravings at some point. But Geralt had learned every part of your body in these last few months. He knew what parts of you to touch to make you ache; what parts of your body made you scream when they were given just the slightest bit of attention; and he knew where to touch and kiss to make you go over the edge again and again and again. His hands felt a million times better than yours ever could.

Imagining him hovering over you, his glorious tongue licking between your folds, his hands holding you down by your hips as you writhed against him, was enough to make your pussy clench around nothing. You moaned his name again as you clenched the bedsheets next to you. This was doing nothing to help your cravings. If anything, it only made you ache for him more.

A groan from the doorway made you freeze. You opened your eyes with a gasp and looked over to see Geralt in the doorway. His eyes were dark with an animalistic lust as his gaze locked on your fingers between your legs. Even from the bed you could see the thick outline of his cock straining against his pants.

“Geralt,” you half-gasped, half-moaned.

His eyes jumped to yours. His entire body was tense, as if it took all the strength inside of him not to close the distance between you two and devour you right then and there.

“Please,” you begged. You needed him. You needed his fingers, his tongue. Only he could bring you to release.

“Y/N--” he began to protest. Even his voice was strained.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice breaking with need.

He lost all control. In two strides he was on the bed, hovering over you between your hips. He took in the sight of your pussy and the wetness that pooled around it.

“Give me your finger,” he demanded.

You brought your hand to him, the one you’d touched yourself with, and moaned like a whore as you watched him lick the juices off of it. He hummed with approval at the taste. You bucked your hips up impatiently. You needed something, anything, or you swear you’d go insane.

He didn’t wait any longer. His mouth was on you a second later and the mere lick of his tongue on your clit nearly threw you over the edge. He gripped your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his tongue devoured you. You were screaming in a matter of seconds. Your fingers tugged on his hair, pulling his mouth impossibly closer to your heat.

Your legs clenched together as he inserted a thick finger inside of you. He nudged your legs apart again. A simple flex of his finger had you moaning loudly enough you knew Jaskier could hear you on the other side of the wall. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. A moment later Geralt inserted another finger. He curled his fingers in a gentle motion just enough for them to brush your g-spot.

“Daddy!” You cried out, feeling your orgasm nearing.

He hummed in approval as you lost control. You could feel the vibrations of his voice against your pussy, stimulating it even more. His fingers moved faster inside of you until your legs clenched around him and you came all over his fingers. He licked up your juices as they spilled out of you.

“You taste so good, baby girl,” he said against your heat. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Once he’d licked up all your juices and left a few tender kisses on the inside of your thighs, he rose to leave.

You bolted up. “Wait!”

He stopped at the foot of your bed, watching you with a frown. “Yes?”

You swallowed, knowing what you were about to ask would only be answered with rejection. But you dared to ask anyways. “Will you stay? Just for tonight.”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Please, Geralt,” you whimpered. “I just want to sleep beside you. We don’t have to do anything. I just want to fall asleep in your arms one last time.”

He hesitated, but finally lied down on the bed again. You watched him in shock as he got under the covers. You truly thought he would say no.

“Just to sleep,” he said.

You nodded before lying down beside him. You two were quiet for a long time, just listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing. And then you felt a hand caress your face in the darkness. You moved closer to him. Your legs tangled between his as your head rested on his chest. You fell asleep to the soothing sound of his slow heartbeat, his fingers running through your hair.

It was the last good sleep you would ever have.

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets IV

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (Slow Burn)

A/n: N/a

•••

The sight of it was enough to intrigue, yet worry you, because you knew Steve and Jonathan weren’t friends. And the sight of him, Tommy and Carol all by Jonathan’s car while you were leaving the school’s building made your interest skyrocket.

“What’s going on here?” You questioned, walking up the tiny slope from the busses to the parking lot. 

Steve’s eyes landed on you, and a girl who you didn’t know, with red hair beside him, and the overly and publicly sexual couple right beside her. 

“Why don’t you stick around, find out?” 

Your eyes went to Tommy and your lips went into a fine line. There were a million things you could say to him right now, you could tell him something terrible that would happen in the future, let him think that you were crazy until it happened, which you’d already done once to the math teacher you had before switching to Mrs. Jensen’s. 

“Chernobyl.” You said, staring at him intently, eyes narrowed a bit. “Pripyat, in the Ukraine. Wouldn’t go near it if I were you.” It was probably not something you should be doing, according to every time travel movie you’d ever watched. You’d probably fuck up something big. But when people made you upset it was what you resorted to. 

“What?”

“You’ll see.” You shrugged with a shrug, going to walk away before you heard another pair of softer footsteps, turning back around to see Jonathan, slightly disheveled.

“Hey, man.” It was the first time Steve had spoken since you tried to talk to the group and get a good answer, and the way he acted was almost a little too much like a verbal attack. Like he was looking for something to happen.

Jonathan turned his head to look at you. “What’s going on?” All you could do was shrug, not knowing the reason for the ambush. 

It made you shift your weight onto your other foot quickly, pulling your the straps of your backpack towards each other, across your chest. 

“Nichole here was, uh, telling us about your work.” 

You didn’t like the way he said it, or the way ‘Nicole’ was looking at Jonathan. You didn’t like Carol or Tommy’s facial expressions either. Maybe it was because he was family, or because you knew Steve just a bit to know that this wasn’t a good thing. 

“We’ve heard great things.” Carol gave an insincere nod while she said it. 

“Yeah, sounds cool.” Tommy piped in. 

“Steve-”

“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as connoisseurs of art.” It was just as insincere as Carol’s nod. But his voice had a bit of attitude to it. 

You stepped forward a bit while Jonathan sighed, and tried to make a quick getaway from the group who was blocking his way. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

But once again, you stopped. Watching as Tommy grabbed Jonathan’s bag from him. “Hagan, what the hell?” You demanded. You were never one to standby and watch someone get pushed around. 

You shifted your weight again to be with the leg you were mainly leaning on being slightly bent, your arms crossed over your chest now as Tommy tossed the bag to Steve. 

“Man, he is totally trembling. He must really have something to hide.” 

You looked at Jonathan eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what he’d gotten into in his teenage years, but you knew that when he was older, he was laid back, rarely ever getting into conflict. 

When you turned your head back to the group of teens, Steve had pulled out a small stack of glossy black and white photos, flipping through them. “Oh, man.”

“Harrington-”

“Let me see.”

It was as if you weren’t really there, as if you were just forced to watch a scene play out because you didn’t know any of them. But you did. And you only knew them because your homeroom was right next to Steve’s.

You watched as Steve handed some over to Tommy and Carol. “Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all.” 

“I was looking for my brother-”

“No, this is called stalking.” Steve rolled up one of the photos holding it in his hands. You walked over, finally. Snatching the photo from Steve’s hand and unrolling it. But the image isn’t what you expected. It was black and white, and a bit fuzzy, You could barely make out the scene, so used to high definition photos on your phone that were in color. But you were able to make it out. It was of the four teens who had gone to Steve’s ‘party’ the night before, all in the pool. And yeah, it was creepy. And no, you didn’t know what to make of it. 

“What’s going on?”

looking up you made eye contact with Nancy for a split second before her eyes were flicking to everyone else. You looked to Jonathan again, before your eyes fell on the concrete you were standing on. Your grip on the glossy photo so tight, that your nails were leaving small dents in it. 

“Here’s the starring lady.” Tommy spoke with a smile, Nancy’s confusion evident as she readjusted the strap on her bag, and you continued to study the concrete as though it were new to you. Like a child seeing a new toy, but instead of excitement, it was disgusted disappointment. 

“This creep was spying on us last night. He was probably gonna save this one for later.” With that, Carol held out a photo to Nancy, who took it, studied it for a moment to see what it was before she looked creeped out. 

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but. . . Man, that’s the thing about perverts. . .” Steve walked over to Jonathan, readjusting the boy’s collar and dusting off his shoulder. “You know, they just can’t help themselves.” You heard a photo rip and saw that he had a second one and he threw the tiny pieces of the photo in the air. “So, we just have to take away his toy.”

“Steve, don’t!” 

“No, please, not the camera.” Jonathan begged, moving to try and stop him from digging into his bag again, but Tommy had gone forward, laying a firm hand on Jonathan’s chest which prompted you to grab onto Tommy’s sleeve and your grip may have been a little too hard. 

“No, no, wait, wait. . . Tommy, Tommy. It’s okay.” Steve started, approaching once again holding the camera in his dominant hand, holding it out to Jonathan. “Here you go, man” And you could have sworn you had a million different ways to yell at someone, to curse them out, because that was all you’d been doing to yourself for the past month and a half. But the moment you saw the camera hit the ground, no words could be uttered to make this a rational decision for a mistake. A terrible mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

The shattered lense of the camera reflected your face back at you when you stared down at it. But you didn’t feel like it was you. You didn’t look like your fathers’ daughter. You looked a bit sleep deprived, and even when your resting face came back, you looked sad. 

“Did you know that about him, L/n?” Tommy said in an annoyed and hushed whisper. Clear annoyance in his voice as he snatched the photo from your hands and ripped it up as well, tossing the pieces your way.

You clenched your jaw to contain your anger, missing the fact that everybody left, including Nancy after a few seconds after the others had. 

What was there to say? There was nothing to say to make it all okay, for any of them. You understood the feeling of their privacy being breached, of someone spying on them. But you didn’t understand why Jonathan would even take those photos. Because that sure as hell didn’t look like he had been searching for Will. It just looked creepy. But there had to be something else to it. Right?

You looked down to see Jonathan picking up the shards of the lens, moving the one who had reflected the image of your face back to you. 

Kneeling down you picked up the camera, seeing how the lens had not only broken but the prism inside was now loose, and the mirror inside was shattered as well. The camera was toast.

“Jonathan, what were you doing in those woods?” In the time you’d been Hawkins, you learned the layout. Having nothing much else to do. You knew that Harrington's house bordered the woods. Like Jonathan’s house did, and unlike the Wheeler house. 

“I told you, I was looking for my brother.”

You sighed and looked back down to the camera. You wanted to tell him why you were so invested in what was going on, why you cared. But there was no reason to make him think you needed a lobotomy. Were those outlawed yet? You didn’ remember. Just knowing that they weren’t performed anymore in your time.

“I believe that. I do. But-”

“What? But what?” Jonathan snapped. 

“Don’t do that. You have every right to be angry, but not at me. You can be angry at them, you can be angry at the world if you wanna be, I won’t tell you not to, because I am too! Be angry at them because they had no right to break your camera, be mad at the world because you have daddy issues and your brother’s missing, I get that! I’m angry because I’m never going to see my dads again, okay? How’s that? You wanna be angry? Join the fucking club.” You snapped back, standing up, leaving the camera on the ground and walking to the other side of the parking lot. 

•••

The Tv was on, and you were counting the cash you still had. When this all happened, you had your bag, and everything in it. All the things you took whenever you left the house to do your own thing. And they were the things that kept you sane. A plastic bag of all the cash you’d been saving since you were like five, since you saw your dads putting coins in a jar and wanted to do the same. So it was fair to say, that between your allowance growing up, and the odd chores you did for neighbors, you had quite the stack of money.

It was the only reason you were currently surviving. A few hundred dollars could get a single teen in the 80’s a long way. And with the Motel owner, Linda, exchanging your room for you to work in the front meant that you had enough money to keep yourself fed, and clothed. 

You’d taken the old microwave Linda was going to throw out because she’d gotten a new one, and set it up in your room on the dresser on the opposite side of the Tv, so you could at least try and eat things other than fast food. None of it was healthy either, but it was better than a burger every night. 

Hearing the beep from the microwave you  moved the separated stacks of different dollar bills, and stood from the bed. You opened the microwave and pulled out the bowl of  ravioli. Something that reminded you of home. Because whenever there wasn’t much time for either of your dads to cook, they’d put in a couple cans of ravioli into the microwave for everyone. But that was rare. 

It was Thursday, and you had decided to stay in the motel instead of going to the school. Too angry with everyone on campus to even be in the same building. You set the bowl down on the nightstand, before a knock came on the door. You groaned loud enough for them to hear while you walked over and opened the door. “Yes, Linda?”

The older woman looked down at you and gave you a certain look. “Listen, I can’t control if you go to school or not, but if you’re going to stay, at least do something useful, come on.” She gestured. Before hearing the Tv playing. “You’re watching He-Man?” 

You had the sudden urge to defend yourself. “First of all, it’s better than it looks, and I know I’m like 15 or whatever, but five is in that too, so technically, I’m also five. Also, It’s called ‘He-man and the Masters of the Universe’” 

Linda didn’t seem like she had the strength to say anything to you about the cartoon. It was better than any other kid’s show that was available in your room. “Right. . . just get down to the laundry room, I need sheets washed, okay? Then you can keep watching that show.” 

You nodded and went to grab the bowl of ravioli as well as your fork, grabbing one of the blankets and throwing it over the stack of money you had, even though you knew that it would no longer be on when you got back.

It was an easy job, and you didn’t mind it. It was the nicer motel in town. There were only two. And while there were electrical problems that you tried to bring up, Linda said that nothing had happened the night you were talking about. But you had asked a girl in the locker room if you had a bruise on your back, in the place where you’d hit the light switch. And apparently you did, an angry purple and red bruise that was about the size of it. 

So you knew you hadn’t dreamt it like Linda suggested. That it was real. That the strange ring you heard had been real, and not just your imagination. 

Walking down to the room the front desk was in you took a bite out of one of the ravioli in your bowl, setting it down on the desk Linda had sat at, writing down a name that had been written down twice since you’d been there. “Again?” You asked, walking into the room behind the desk where the sheets had been put, loading the pillowcases and towels into the machine, and picking up the basket of sheets that needed to be hand washed. Setting it down by the desk, you resumed eating your food. 

“He and his wife always argue. She kicks him out for a day or two. We should be grateful that we’re a town a lot of people pass through to get to Indianapolis, and that Mr. Kenner’s wife hates him.” 

You chuckled a bit, and continued eating, sitting down on the chair behind her by the door. Your ears caught onto a few words from the Tv that was out of sight from where you were currently, and was turned down so you could barely hear it. ‘An update on the William Byers’ case’ You snatched the remote from the desk, and got up to go to the Tv, turning it up. 

“The body of William Byers, aged 12, was found in the Quarry late last night-”

All of your limbs relaxed, your arms falling to your sides, the ceramic bowl falling to the hardwood floor and shattering while you stared with wide eyes at the television screen. Everything else forgotten as the sentence kept running through your head. What were you supposed to think, or do?

•••

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​ @jxnehxpper​ @yllwtaxi​ @songofcosplay​ @potatopooper05​

[dw-writes]

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter One

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: Listen...... just listen to me, I know I shouldn’t be writing another series but I don’t even care, I’ve wanted to do something for Lucifer for FOREVER so I decided to eue. SO. I hope that you enjoy this. It’s a lot of fun, I have it all plotted out (for once) and I’m THRILLED for it.

If you’d like to be tagged in this, please let me know!!! I’ll be more than happy to tag you.

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix

It started with a coin, a weird gold one with a star on one side. You found it on the road outside of a club as you walked home, sitting on the curb without anyone or anything around it. You flipped it over, weighed the heavy – and scalding – coin in your palm as you stared up at the club behind you.

The club was Lux.

You tilted your head, squinting as the sun glared off the multiple glass panes, and glanced down at the coin.

“Sorry, dear, but we have to let you go. Business reconstruction, you understand.”

“Listen, it’s not…This isn’t a personal thing, but your work this year just hasn’t been up to snuff. You’re gonna have to repeat the class next year, get your grade replaced with a better one.”

“We’ve given you extensions every month on you’re rent, we can’t keep doing this. You have to be on time, this month, or you have to find somewhere else to live.”

If divine providence was real, this was a holy intervention. You rolled the coin around in your palm, pressing the burning metal into your palm as you made your way to the door. It hurt to walk. Your arms ached as you pushed open the frosted glass door. The dark atmosphere immediately made your eyes heavy as you looked around the entrance and made your way down the hall and into the club proper.

A woman looked up from the bar, narrowing her dark eyes as she cleaned a set of glasses. “We’re closed.”

“Sorry, sorry, I—” You cleared your throat and plucked the coin from your hand. Even in the dark, you could see the pentagram seared into your flesh, already forming a welt where it had sat. “I found this? Outside?”

She made her way around the bar with echoing steps. “You found this?” She snatched it from your fingers. “Outside?”

You  nodded extremely slowly. “Yes, I did.” You watched as she frowned, turning it over in her hands. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Make it quick,” she answered, distracted, as she pulled her phone from her tight leather pants. She started to punch in a number, and set the phone on the counter.

“Are you guys hiring?”

She started to answer, still distracted by the coin in her hands, and paused. Stared at you. Narrowed her eyes even more. They traveled down your body, and the eyebrow with the scar cutting it in two slowly inched up. She nodded, satisfied, and returned her eyes to your face. “Can you dance?” she asked.

“I—excuse me?”

“Maze, you can take care of everything here for the day? The detective called, we have a case, and—” You and the bartender – Maze – turned towards the British voice. The man, dressed to the nines, paused as he came down the stairs from an elevator. “Oh, hello there.” He buttoned the coat at his waist and held out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” You took his hand, voice catching on multiple starts of multiple sentences. “I’m Lucifer. Morningstar.”

You blindly reached out and sloppily grabbed the coin from Maze’s hand, holding it up in front of your face. And his. “Like the Devil?” you asked. His face, a mask of charm and allure, fell as he went cross-eyed, staring at the coin. “I found this outside on the curb.”

“Did you now,” he breathed, slowly, with a voice so full of reverence you thought you offered him diamonds. “Funny, I lost a coin just like this a while back to my father.” As he reached for it, you dropped the coin back into your palm. Now, it was him who was at a loss for words.

“Are you hiring?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you hiring?” you repeated. He released your hand to slide his into perfectly tailored pockets. You swallowed, and stuttered, “I need a job, badly. I can bartend, I can answer phones, I can do paperwork, Hell, I will clean—”

“Will you give me the coin?” You started at the sudden statement. He smiled. On another face, it would be slimy. “Consider the job a favor on my behalf, and all I ask is for the coin.” You stared at Maze, who had poured herself a drink between Lucifer arriving and that moment, and now drank slowly with a shrug. “You can answer phones? How about my assistant, hm? You can work here in the club, use the office – I don’t find much use for it anyway. Make sure paperwork is all in line, orders, all the not fun legal things that make Lux run.”

“For how—”

He turned to Maze. “What does a job like that pay? What do you make, catching all those nasty humans?”

“Enough.”

“Hm.” He turned back to you. “How about we say…Thirty? An hour?” You choked on the air in your lungs.

“That sounds low, Lucifer, you could better,” Maze prompted.

“Forty?”

You stepped back and pressed a hand to your chest. Were those palpitations? You were very sure you were having palpitations over the flippancy of which the British club owner was negotiating your wages. You could see Maze’s lips turn down in a massive, expressive frown. “Oh, why not fifty, that sounds reasonable.” He paused, and stared at a distant spot on the wall. “No, an even fifty-one. An hour, of course. That puts you just north of one-hundred-thousand dollars a year.”

You started to laugh: small, delirious giggles that bubbled out of your mouth like rabid foam. You covered your mouth to try and stifle them, and found it impossible. Tears pricked your eyes. Maze nodded slowly.

“That’s so much?” you tried to say around your laughter. “I—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He smiled. “I will personally ensure that you earn that money.”

You held out the coin. He plucked it from your fingers, and tucked it into a pocket inside his blazer. “Perfect. I happen to know a few good lawyers, we can get the paperwork drawn up before the end of the day.” His hand slid over your shoulder, and turned you around, towards the door you had walked through. “Do you have the time? We can head to an office now, get everything settled, and you can start tomorrow.”

You pressed your fingers into your cheeks to smooth the tears away. “You don’t even know my name,” you whispered.

He leaned into the door to prop it open. “And what is it?” he asked. You gave it, quietly, breathlessly, and he smiled something akin to the sun. “Splendid…”

The paperwork was easy enough: a stack of legalese so small you thought you were getting dizzy, but you asked for a copy of it and found it sound. You even took notes. Lucifer escorted you out to his car as you read through the contract a second time, and then a third. You sank into the passenger’s seat of his beautiful convertible and sighed.

“Is something wrong? We can go back in and fix things,” he said as he sat in behind the wheel.

“No!” you exclaimed, looking up, “No, no, this is wonderful. I—” You gasped and shook your head, looking up through the windshield. Even in the parking lot, the lawyer he knew had a Hell of a view of the City of Angels. You sat back against the leather. “I never thought anything like this could happen.”

“What, you never thought you’d meet the Devil?” he asked with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I…” You hugged the contract to your chest. “I never thought I’d get more second chances.” You looked up. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

He started the car. “Well, don’t thank me yet. You still owe me a favor.” He motioned to you. “Buckle up.”

“No? I don’t, I gave you your coin, that was the agreement.” You sat back as he turned out of the parking lot. “What do I need to know? Being your…assistant.”

“Oh, well, you’ll be helping me to manage Lux,” he slowed at a stop sign and continued on, peeling away from the intersection without a sound. “Like I said: orders, hiring—”

“Hiring?”

“Book acts, and parties, and setting up events—”

“Okay—”

“Taking phone calls for me, like the ones from the police. I mean, I know I’m consultant, but it isn’t my day job.”

“Should I write this down?”

“Oh, and finding a way to make sure the Holy can’t just drop into my place of business.” He violently rolled his eyes. “Find a witch doctor, curse the place, I don’t care, I can’t stand my brother dropping in at all times when he feels like it.” He tapped his fingers against the wheel. “Except when he wants a drink, then he drop as much money as he wants. And then there’s my mother, I can’t stand getting her calls on top of the Detective’s and the police departments—do they not understand that I have other things to attend to? Not that I dislike either, but I—”

You sucked on your teeth, looked around in your bag, and scribbled a list out on the back of a receipt. “Got it.”

“Wha—” He stopped at a light and stared at you. “You did?”

You nodded and lifted the list. “Anything else?”

Lucifer paused. He sat back in the seat, and stared at the light above his head. “Huh. I should have thought of hiring you years ago.”

You tilted your head and smacked your lips. “Well, I didn’t live in L.A. years ago, so you’ve lucked out.”

“You didn’t?” He hummed, and started back down the road. “Well, tell me about yourself! I know nothing of you, save your name and the luck of your timing.”

You continued to scribble on the receipt, notes that for what you could do to fulfill the requests he’s made of you, and rattled off the information he asked of you, “I took a break after high school that turned into a decade of poor choices and shitty apartments in equally shitty cities and situations across the country, and now I’m here.”

“Here doing what?” he prodded.

“School?” you offered, “I dunno, I’m just trying to find something that catches my attention and gives me that spark.” You shrugged. “It’s hard. Just not enough of the right chemicals for my brain to sit in.”

“Excuse me?”

You sighed. “It’s nothing.”

Lucifer took pause. “This must be what the Detective feels when I’m talking…”

You looked up, and folded the list together to stick into your bag. “Are you taking me home?” you asked when you finally looked up and saw the buildings whizzing past.

“No, back to Lux, but if you want me to take you home, I certainly can,” he answered with a wink and smile.

You nodded slowly. “Not what I meant.”

“Oh.”

“Uh, what street are we on?” You turned around to stare at a street sign. “We need to go to McArthur Park.”

“McArthur—” You thought the tires burned with how hard he slammed on the brakes. You braced against the dashboard, wheezing as the seatbelt cut into your chest. “You will not be staying there, certainly not when you’re working for me.”

“It was the only place I could afford, given the circumstances,” you protested, looking over. “And I can update my lease by month, in case I need somewhere else to live.”

“Good.” He leaned on the wheel as he stared at you. “Then you will no problem moving into Lux.”

“Excuse me—”

“Oh I will not be excusing any part of you. Consider Lux part of your employment package.” He scoffed, shifted gears, and continued to drive. You opened your mouth. “No exceptions!” He shook he head. “Cannot believe you thought you could drive from McArthur Park—what if I needed you right away?”

“I don’t drive, I take the bus,” you whispered.

“Well, that’s even worse!”

“It’s not??” You stared as he continued to complain, now on a completely new tangent, shaking his head. You wondered just what you got yourself into with such a deal – a new job, a new home, and a chance to restart?

Who in the world did you make a deal with?

[bytheangell]

Where the Wild Things Make Sense

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Ritual for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Malec (Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood) Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: curses, curse breaking, fairy tale elements Summary:  When Magnus finds a wooden figure in the woods with familiar magic, he finds himself unexpectedly entangled in the life of a mortal he never even met before.  ------------- Magnus is only meant to be passing through this part of his journey back to his father’s realm. His magic is running low so he’s conserving it for now, deciding to walk rather than portal which is the only reason he sees the figure in the woods. It looks like it’s made of twigs and branches, the form of an archer with a bow raised and arrow drawn. It looks as if it grew out of the very ground beneath it. A guardian spirit of the woods, perhaps? A shrine of sorts?

It pulls to Magnus, drawing him near, and he can feel something familiar about it. He can sense magic, though it’s heavily veiled, just the slightest hint of it calling out to him.

“Who are you?” he asks, circling the figure.

He doesn’t get a response, but he does hear the sounds of a town nearby and wonders if the people there will have an answer instead. He’s only meant to be passing through… but a quick stop won’t do any harm, right?

---

Magnus finds the local bard more than willing to tell him all about Alexander Lightwood, the brother of the town’s weapons smith, who was cursed and turned into the figure Magnus came across in the woods.

“The man who did it said that it was to keep something from happening in his future… that it was foretold Alec’s very existence would turn his son against him and bring about the warlock’s downfall. So he put a curse on him to remain in that form.”

A curse of that nature… it’s powerful. Magnus knows because it’s something he’s capable of himself. Someone else hears Simon talking and comes over with a story of how this Alexander put himself in front of a wild wolf to protect a child who wandered too far from town on her own, and another chimes in with a recollection of a time Alec stayed up for days on end when illness hit the village to make sure no family was without food or medicine.

It seems like the loss of this one man hit the village hard. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Eleven months, 2 weeks, and 4 days ago.”

The answer is immediate, coming from a blonde man in the corner who remained silent until now. A strange hush falls over the crowd that, up until that point, had been so caught up in their memories they didn’t seem to notice him arrive.

The small crowd disperses quickly as the blonde comes over to them.

“You know,” he says. “Alec would hate people talking about him like this.”

“Sorry,” Magnus says.

“He never wanted attention. He did what was right, and that’s it. He never asked for thanks. He wasn’t a hero. He was just… Alec.”

The blonde leaves and Simon lets out a long sigh next to Magnus. “That’s Jace, Alec’s brother. He was out with him the day it happened. Always blamed himself for not being able to save him.”

Magnus hums to himself, finishing his drink and tossing a coin onto the table as he gets up to leave. Perhaps that’s enough prying for one night.

---

He’s only halfway to the inn when a form steps out in front of him, blocking his path. It doesn’t take him long to recognize it as Jace.

“What are you doing here?” Jace asks.

“Just passing through,” Magnus says.

“Are you a warlock?” Jace demands.

Magnus considers lying. Warlocks are clearly not Jace’s favorite for obvious reasons, but Magnus gets the feeling that if he’s caught in that lie it’d be worse than telling the truth outright.

“Yes,” he admits slowly. “I am.”

“You look an awful lot like the one who cursed my brother.” It’s as much an observation as it is an accusation.

“You think if I cursed your brother I’d show back up to ask questions about him?” Magnus isn’t sure what Jace is aiming at here.

“No. I just… if you know who it was. If you’re protecting them…”

“I don’t,” Magnus says, but even as the words leave his mouth he realizes that isn’t entirely true. He doesn’t know, not for certain, but if it was a warlock who looked like Magnus, cursing someone to protect his own legacy… he might have an idea, but he isn’t about to say it out loud. Not until he’s certain.

“I promise I don’t mean you or your town any harm,” Magnus swears. “But if you want me to leave, I will.”

Jace looks him up and down. “You can leave in the morning.” It isn’t a suggestion.

Magnus nods. “Thank you. And for what it’s worth, I truly am sorry about your brother.”

“Me too,” Jace says before leaving back towards the tavern, leaving Magnus with a lot to consider during what ends up being a restless night.

---

Magnus wakes up in the morning with every intention of leaving. He doesn’t know these people. He doesn’t owe them anything. He has an entire Kingdom waiting for him, a life of power and wealth when he returns to his father’s realm from his time studying abroad. He knows that his father is ruthless in battle and that he can be cruel... but surely he isn’t cruel enough to take the life of an innocent over some nonsense prophecy?

He takes his bag and walks back out of town the same way he came… past the figure he now knows to be Alexander Lightwood in the woods. He should continue to walk past it. He should leave it behind and not look back.

But he can’t.

Magnus turns towards the twisting wood, running his fingers gently over the curves that make up the shoulder, the ones that twist their way down his back. “It wasn’t you that felt familiar,” Magnus mutters to no one in particular. “It was the magic that made you this way.” Now that he knows what he’s looking for Magnus senses it almost immediately. The sort of magic that could bind someone permanently like this… it wasn’t just everyday magic. This took years of practice. This was dark magic, the very kind he’d sworn off during his time away from home with the realization that there were other options.

“I believe you were told to leave, Warlock.”

The words come from a female with black hair and fierce eyes which narrow at him as her hands go to rest on the hilt of a blade at her hip.

“That won’t be necessary,” Magnus says, eyeing the weapon. “Isabelle, I’m guessing?”

“Please,” she says. “Spare us any more pain and just go.”

“What if,” Magnus starts slowly. “What if I can help him?”

“The warlock told Jace the spell was bound by blood,” Isabelle says, shaking her head.

“Yes,” Magnus agrees. “And if my suspicion is correct, then my blood should work just as well as my father’s to counter the curse.”

A look of realization dawns on Isabelle at that, and the weapon is drawn now, raised at him though she makes no move forward.

“I told you that won’t be necessary,” Magnus repeats. “If my father is the warlock behind this, I can find a way to undo it. If you’ll let me, I’d like to stay and try.”

“As if I’d let you leave now,” Isabelle huffs. “Let’s go.”

---

Magnus knows the other implications of the warlock behind Alexander’s curse being his father - that means that, somehow, Asmodus had it in his head that Alec would corrupt Magnus leading to Asmodeus’ downfall. That his own fate is so closely intertwined with that of a mortal he’s never met before… It’s a lot, even for Magnus, but if this is even indirectly his fault then he owes it to the people here to try and help.

Under very close watch, most often by Jace or Isabelle, Magnus is allowed to brew small batches of potions to try on Alexander’s form and to try and pull energy from him to better pinpoint exactly what was done to leave him like that. Magnus questions Jace as much as Jace questions him, trying to get any detail from the day this happened that might help him narrow down the wide variety of magic that might’ve been used.

The longer he remains in the town the closer he grows to not only Jace and Isabelle but so many others. Simon, Clary and her mother Jocelyn, Alexander’s mother Maryse and youngest sibling Max.

It’s entirely accidental when Magnus gets the breakthrough he needs - cutting his finger on a weathered section of wood, a drop of his blood falls onto some of the wood at the base of Alexander’s figure. Magnus watches as the wood reacts to it, opening themselves where it touched, moving out towards the blood, before closing again around it.

Of course. Magnus lets out a sharp, derisive laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jace asks with narrowed eyes.

“It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If my father never did this… I would’ve passed by this place without a second thought. I never would’ve stopped. I never would’ve asked questions. I never would’ve gotten invested in the lives of people I have no business caring about.”

“What are you talking about?” Jace asks.

“What causes my father’s ruin is going to be the very act he performed to prevent it. I think I know how to free your brother. But I need to prepare something first.”

---

Magnus holds a jar of blood and a handwritten letter, one in each hand, as he stands before Jace and Isabelle.

“I know a ritual that I believe will bring Alexander back,” Magnus begins. “But it’s a ritual of transference.”

“What does that mean?” Isabelle asks.

“It means it doesn’t break the curse, it only transfers it to someone else,” Magnus admits. He watches the uneasy look that the two siblings share over the idea that Alexander can be freed but at the cost of someone else’s entrapment.

“I’ll-” Jace immediately begins to volunteer, but Magnus holds a hand up to stop him.

“I’m going to do it,” Magnus says the words to the surprise of everyone, even a little bit himself because up until that moment he hadn’t been sure he wouldn’t take the inevitable offer from Jace or Isabelle he correctly anticipated. “Under one condition.”

He doesn’t fault them for the skeptical looks he receives. “What?”

“Give this to Alexander when he’s back.” Magnus holds out the jar and parchment. “It’s everything he’ll need to break the curse completely and release me.”

Jace steps forward to take both objects from Magnus, immediately opening the parchment to skim its contents.

“Why not do it yourself?” He asks, holding up the instructions.

“Because once someone is under this curse for more than a full year the petrification is permanent, and they’re trapped in this form for eternity. And by your recollection, if it is accurate, that only leaves us-”

“Until tomorrow,” Jace breaths out, eyes wide with horror at how close they came to nearly losing Alexander forever.

Magnus nods. “So once the ritual is complete I have a year for Alexander to break the curse.”

“And what if he doesn’t? What if you free him and we leave you out here to petrify?” Isabelle questions.

“That is a very real possibility,” Magnus agrees. “But if your Alexander is half the person this town has built him up to be, he’ll do it. I only ask you give him that and allow him the option to decide.”

Magnus knows the risks involved - it’s part of the reason he won’t allow anyone else to take Alexander’s place but himself. Should he fail to do what needs to be done and return within the year he would never be able to forgive himself for simply trading Alexander’s life for Jace’s, even if Jace would agree. This is, after all, partially because of him. If anyone should be made to suffer for his father’s sins it should be him, it feels only right.

Magnus begins to draw the sigils he needs on the ground, waiting until the moon begins to rise and hangs at just the right angle in the sky before he calls upon the power needed for the transference ritual. He takes out a small blade to cut a deep line into his palm, wincing as he drips the blood first over the sigils then onto the wood encasing Alexander.

As the branches begin to retreat into the ground to reveal Alexander Lightwood’s human form again they rise up again where Magnus stands. Magnus takes very deliberate final breaths of fresh air before the stasis hits.

He hopes he isn’t making a horrible mistake with his last conscious thought before the darkness consumes him, and everything goes black.

----

The first thing Magnus registers as he comes to is the very attractive pair of hazel eyes staring back at him.

“What a gorgeous vision to behold,” Magnus says. “Are you here to rescue me, or are you an angel and I’ve died and gone to heaven?”

The hazel eyes roll, and Magnus misses them for the moment they retreat back behind thickly lashed eyelids.

“Perhaps I should’ve listened to Jace and let you remain cursed,” the man says.

Magnus gasps. “And I thought we were friends,” he accuses, eyes turning to Jace. The dramatics are entirely forced, meant to cover the terrifying sense of relief he feels at the knowledge that his trust in a man he’s never met before wasn’t misplaced.

“I didn’t say he should let you die,” Jace defends. “I simply stated it was too dangerous and that I wouldn’t go through with it if I were him.”

“That’s the same thing as letting him die, Jace,” Isabelle points out with an elbow to his ribs. Seeing the three of them together like this feels… complete, somehow, in a way they hadn’t before. Jace and Isabelle’s smiles are easier than when he saw them last.

“You must be Alexander,” Magnus observes. He looks down to see the last of the branches retreating back into the ground below, as well as the markings on the ground in deep crimson. “Nice to properly meet you. I must say, the stories hardly did you justice.”

“Please tell me I didn’t go through all the trouble of saving your life just so you could flirt, Magnus,” a voice chimes in from behind him and Magnus spins with a grin to see Ragnor Fell standing there, his arms crossed and his head shaking disapprovingly.

“You’d be bored if I petrified into a tree and you know it,” Magnus huffs. “I knew you’d help him.”

“Of course I did. But your father’s blood? Honestly, Magnus, is nothing ever easy with you?”

Magnus hums as he considers his answer. “Not usually, no.”

He turns back to Alexander. “Did you… is he…” the spell to break the curse required the blood of his father mixed with his own. It didn’t necessarily call for the person’s death, but Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if that’d been the only way. He certainly wouldn’t blame them.

“He’s alive,” Alexander says, not looking particularly pleased about it. “But he bled enough as he fled that I could collect it for the spell.”

“Right.” Magnus nods, not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved at the news. He certainly can’t go back now, not knowing what he does about the sort of person his father truly is. “Well then, I suppose we should get to work.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander asks.

“You heard the prophecy - you’re to turn me against my father and bring about his downfall. So, Alexander? What do you say?” There’s a hint of a challenge to Magnus’ tone, but it’s a friendly one, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Should Alec say no and send him away, well, at least things turned out alright in the end. He’s alive, after all, and with quite the story to tell from it. But if Alec agrees…

“How about you stay for dinner, and we can discuss the potential downfalls of kings over drinks afterward?” Alexander offers instead.

“Drinks sound good,” Magnus agrees easily. “Breakfast sounds even better,” he adds with a suggestive wink that has Alexander flushing crimson.

“I can turn him back into a tree-” Ragnor offers helpfully, but Alec recovers quickly and shakes his head.

“No need,” Alec says. “I believe I can handle him from here.” Alec is already casually turning to walk back to the village as he adds over his shoulder, “I think he’ll find the breakfast at the inn he’ll be sleeping at just fine.”

Ragnor snorts at Alec’s response, and Magnus, caught off guard, watches as Alec, Jace, and Isabelle start off ahead, laughing.

“I like that one,” Ragnor admits.

“Yeah,” Magnus agrees, taking off after them. “Me too.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part I – At the Beginning

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 1,893 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @kemmastan​ @mycat-is-mylove​ @amirahiddleston​ a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}

Your time at the Belhaven Foundlings Home ended as abruptly as it began ten years prior. You woke up to find the headmistress standing over you, hands on her hips, giving you that familiar, disapproving scowl she always had.

“Happy birthday. You have till noon to collect your things and get out.”

“I only need till 10,” you replied coolly, giving her that look you knew she hated. Whenever you conjured that imperious, disdainful expression she would tauntingly call you ‘Your Majesty’ and send you to do some odious chore. She had no power over you anymore, though. You were 18, a legal adult, and no longer hers to pretend to care about. Not that she’d put much effort into that anyway.

True to your word you readied yourself quickly. You’d been dropped off at the Home with only your clothes on your back and a necklace. The clothes you’d long ago outgrown and you’d given them to the House for other girls to wear and use, despite being advised to keep and sell them. The necklace was around your neck where it hadn’t left once in the last 10 years. You dressed yourself in the simple clothes you’d acquired since, relying on the charity of neighboring villages to provide for the little House. It was rumored that many of the children in it were bastards of the noble houses which sounded about right to you. You had no use for nobles. The little you’d seen of them had been during the annual holiday fundraiser where you were trotted out on display and they ooh’d and ahh’d and congratulated themselves on their generosity. As if a one-time donation meant anything over the span of a year with more children found abandoned or orphaned all the time.

“Are you really going to do it?” one of the girls asked as you said goodbye, “Are you going to find them?”

“I’m going to try,” you answered, brushing her hair out of her face tenderly.

“What if you don’t?” she asked. It would sound cynical to others but children of the Home knew better than to assume there was family waiting for them out there.

“Then I will make my own,” you answered.

“Are you really going to New Nilfgaard? I’ve heard there are monsters,” another child said, whispering the question and eyeing the closet suspiciously.

“Monsters aren’t real but tragically paperwork is so yes, I have to go there, try and get some notification papers drafted and then I can get a job and then I can save up money and go to Cidaris,” as you recited the plan your heart grew a little heavier. You were closer than you’d ever been but there was still so much time and money and work to do when all you wanted was to get a horse and ride until you were far away from Nilfgaard, New or Old. Still, you kept an optimistic face for the children. You knew you represented something that was rare around here; hope. If you could get out, maybe they could too.

“You have to stop by the palace! Oh Y/N, tell me you will!” a girl pleaded.

“Don’t be stupid, the palace burned down years ago.”

“No! Not all of it! There’s still some standing! A palace, can you believe it?”

“I will go to the palace,” you promised them, though you had no use for palaces or ruins or whatever was left now. You continued your goodbyes and by the time you left it was a bit past noon. You found it hard to leave the girls you’d become a bit of a surrogate mother to in your time there. You worried about them, too. You stood up for them, relentless in your protests against the callous way the headmistress treated them. These protests had caught you the long, lovely tresses you’d had when you arrived. They’d been cut in an attempt to humiliate you into submission but you just praised how light your head felt and vowed to never let it grow long again. You kept your word, your hair rested a couple of inches above your shoulder and you never let it get much longer. It was one of the many unnatural things about you, and therefore one of the many you exhibited with pride.

It was a bitterly cold winter’s day as you left, the snow crunching beneath your shoes which weren’t at all suited for walking through snow. There was still a determined courage in your heart as your fingers rubbed at the pendant, the familiar press of the letters against your skin a reminder of what you sought. Cidaris was far and you’d heard that New Nilfgaard was a brutal place full of conmen and tricksters. But you were a survivor, a girl found lying in the road by some docks with no memory beyond a name and no family though a necklace with clues of where some may be found. It was all you had but it was more than many you knew possessed so you faced the bitter cold and your soaking boots and you held your head up high as you began to trudge towards New Nilfgaard and your new life.

-----

New Nilfgaard was where hope went to die. Fortunately, it was where opportunism went to flourish, and none knew how to work an opportunity like Jaskier de Lettenhove. Separated from his family one fateful night a decade prior, Jaskier had woken to find himself in the company of a boy older than him (though, he reminded him often, not that much older). The boy, who begrudgingly introduced himself as Geralt, offered to aid Jaskier in tracking down any remaining family he may have but the boy took tragedy and turned it into a second chance.

“I’ve always been terrible at being noble anyway,” he’d argued, “Besides, no one is allowed in or out without identification.”

Geralt argued that the first point didn’t matter but the second had merit. Since Nilfgaard had “repossessed” the formerly independent duchy of Toussaint (a name no longer allowed to be spoken) they had become very concerned with identifying any who may spread word of what had occurred and bring attention from outside countries. Those who had fled the party that night found that trying to leave was akin to walking into a mousetrap and so many had chosen to either hide their identities and take that risk or start a new life in New Nilfgaard.

The first thing Jaskier stole was a lute. He insisted it was necessary as he could use the money he made performing to never steal again. This, as Geralt knew, was just the first of what would be a long and increasingly adept skill of thieving. They had a code, though, only stealing from the shops owned by Nilfgaard merchants who raised prices exorbitantly and tried to push out local merchants. And Jaskier did spend his earned (or pilfered) coin on those smaller places. Geralt offered his services doing bodyguard work around the country, a highly demanded occupation for those noblepeople who were hiding out and wanted to try and cross over to other places. He had invested in leather armor which Jaskier had decried as an extravagant expense until Geralt convinced him by increased earnings that the more intimidating he looked, the more business he got. It didn’t take very long for him to earn back what he’d spent. Jaskier didn’t have much room to criticize clothing expenses. He was forever coming back with a new doublet set and when Geralt glowered at him for it he just talked about The Local Economy and Helping Small Businesses. He didn’t mention the additional cost of importing the fine fabrics. Most of the time, like now, when they were just talking about plans, he tried to spare the nice clothes by opting for a simple undershirt. Geralt sometimes teased, reassuring him that they could afford to replace his buttons if they went and he could in fact use all of them but Jaskier merely scoffed and left his shirts half-unbuttoned, the soft thatch of dark hair across his chest always visible and whether or not Geralt liked to admit it, the scandalous sight made people a bit more generous with their well-earned coin after performances. All in all they made an odd-looking pair; the amber eyed, silver haired man in pitch black leather armor and the pale blue eyed, chestnut haired bard with his lute and jewel-toned doublets. Both wearing their own sort of camouflage, both trying to find ways to survive in this new world they’d been thrust into as children. Together they survived alright but Jaskier was determined that they find a way to earn enough money to secure their way out of New Nilfgaard forever. And he’d been working on a plan for 10 years, waiting for the moment to strike.

“Why now?” Geralt demanded, voice much lower and brisker than it had been when they’d met.

“Her grandmother grows desperate,” Jaskier answered, “This is our best chance.”

They spoke in hushed tones over cups of watered-down ale that made Geralt screw up his face in disgust and glare in the direction of the bartender with every sip. Jaskier was too focused on his plan to notice or care.

“Hmm… and you feel aright with this? Tricking an old woman into believing she’s found her probably dead granddaughter?” Geralt asked bluntly, giving Jaskier a look that wasn’t so much judgmental as assessing. He wasn’t against shady dealings but he did need to know that his partner wouldn’t back out if his sometimes romantic or sentimental nature got the best of him.

“Whatever it takes,” Jaskier said simply, reciting the motto the two of them had established when they decided to stick it out together. Geralt nodded.

“Whatever it takes.”

“And besides, you’re acting as if we have nothing to go in with! We have this,” Jaskier glanced around carefully and then produced the little music box he’d taken with him from the palace when Geralt rescued him, “We just need a woman.”

“Famous last words,” Geralt murmured into his glass, taking another sip and then wincing and glaring at the bartender again. “Where exactly will we get a woman who happens to look like this long lost princess? You expect her to just waltz into town? Perhaps we can summon her to the palace?”

He chuckled, amusing himself with his bizarre idea, and then looked over and found Jaskier’s sky blue eyes glinting dangerously. It was a look he got as he worked out an idea and Geralt already didn’t like it.

“Do you still know that mage?” Jaskier asked.

“She’s in Cidaris,” Geralt replied, “And no.”

“What about that other one?”

“No, Jaskier.”

“Very well. But the old palace is a good idea anyway. We should go there and see if we can find any more scraps of relics or information we can use to help build our case for when we find the right woman,” Jaskier said, already getting up from the table.

“Everything has already been ransacked and either sold or burnt. Jaskier, are you listening to me? Gods damnit…” Geralt slammed a coin on the table and hurried off after the bard who was already out the door and running headfirst into the unknown.  

[purplesurveys]

1083

surveys by chasingghosts

Just a boring word association survey inspired by one of my old ones. Say the first thing that comes to your head. Don't overthink it :)

Keyboard: Monitor.

Dog: Dalmatian.

School: Pencils.

Italy: Roman Holiday. Ahh one of my favorite movies; such a classic.

Fire: BTS, heh.

Table: Chairs.

Mask: Face mask. New normal and all.

Blanket: Weighted blankets. I still don’t get how they work and I keep imagining that a 20-lbs blanket would feel too warm...I guess I’m willing to try it for a night, but I dunno if I would want to spend 5,000 bucks on one.

Gun: That curly-haired blonde dumbass from the US who keeps bringing one around.

Soda: Fizzy. Do not like.

Man: Trash.

Beautiful: Beast. Beautiful and the Beast is the knockoff version, hahaha.

Country: Roads.

Dictionary: Thesaurus.

Play: Playgrounds.

Yoga: Mat.

Cross: Country.

Happy: Emojis.

Change: Coins.

Orange: The fruit with the same name. Also, hair dye.

Cereal: Fruity Pebbles and Lucky Charms.

Record: Vinyl records, aka what I would like to invest in eventually.

Jail: The Shawshank Redemption, even though I personally didn’t really like it lmao.

Tank: This made me think of the Elisa Lam case. It’s unfortunate what happened to her but personally, I’ll always be more disturbed by the stories of people who had to drink or bathe in that nasty contaminated water.

Plane: Travel. :(

Machine: Factories.

Empty: Outer space.

Medicine: Nasty taste. Whenever I was sick as a kid my parents/grandma always made me drink Tempra which tastes like shit and it took a lot of effort for me not to throw them back up. I hope kids these days have more better-tasting options for medicine.

Stockings: Uncomfortable. I hate stockings and always dread occasions where I’ll have to put them on. Fortunately I haven’t had to for five years now.

Curry: Spicy and aromatic.

Football: Superbowl. Or is it SuperBowl? Super Bowl? Anyway, that event.

Blonde: Jennifer Aniston, heheh.

Pink: Barbie.

Cart: Online shopping.

Bag: Herschel.

Bourbon: Breaking Bad, though I’m not sure if it was indeed bourbon that Hank/Walt regularly drank. First thing that came to mind, though.

Karaoke: Philippine parties.

Caterpillar: That chemical they release when they’re stepped on.

Wizard: Harry Potter.

Number: Queues, lol.

Tired: Myself.

Baby: Baby videos.

Beach: Moana.

Castle: The first thing I thought of is this big orange castle - that is actually an inn - that I would have to pass by every single morning on my way to school, from kinder to high school. It looked like such a pretty, magical castle as a kid and I, along with probably all of my schoolmates who went the same route, thought a real princess lived in it; it just felt that magical. But as I got older I realized most inns/hotels with outlandish gimmicks are the cheap and tacky ones, so the magic was ruined for me as the years went by, haha.

Rock: Patrick Star from Spongebob, since he lives under one.

Hotel: Top-notch hospitality and service.

Weather: Gloomy.

Beanbag:  Comfort.

Clean: Vacuum cleaners...and my mom.

Angry: Rage.

--

I was inspired to make this when I saw a similar survey on here. Answer true or false, or simply mark an 'x' for what applies to you.

Michelle:

You love anything Disney related. I mean not anything? I wouldn’t want Disney merch of every single thing that could be turned into merch; but I do love Disney movies and they have always been great at creating songs that make you feel all magical and giddy inside.

You find any excuse to go shopping. False. I haven’t created a hobby out of shopping; at least not yet, I think. But going inside H&M several times for the past month to buy gifts for my friends has definitely helped in making me see the appeal of shopping. For now, though, I’d still rather do my browsing and shopping in non-clothing stores.

You’re younger than most of your friends. False. I have older and younger friends, but most of them are also 1998 babies since most of my friends are the people I went to school with.

You have really long hair, to your waist or longer. False. It has gotten a lot longer over the past year, but it’s still only up to my upper chest.

You’re pretty antisocial. False. I don’t like throwing this term around loosely because it’s a real personality disorder. I have also gotten more comfortable with people in the last few years and I don’t prefer to be alone anymore.

You have a pet dog/cat that sleeps in your bed with you. False. Either are terrible in staying in bed.

You haven’t had your first kiss yet. False. I had it six years ago, and I have shared hundreds and probably thousands of kisses after that.

You’re Asian. We finally got one! Haha.

You’re good at cooking. Yeah, this is the biggest false statement in this category.

You have dreams of working as a chef. I can see how it’s appealing, but it was never a career dream of mine. My dad is a chef, though.

Cheyenne:

You’re blonde, but not naturally. I currently don’t have plans to dye my hair blonde.  

You always have your fingernails painted. False. I’m the complete opposite of this, but I do want to start having my nails painted professionally as a way to pamper myself from time to time.

You obsess over things easily, to the point of them taking over your life. True, I guess. I get very sensitive and I overthink and overanalyze a lot of actions and situations that aren’t meant to be more than what they actually are. Just last night and this morning I had a bunch of dreams that had to do with a work-related problem I ran into last night. When I feel anxious about something, they would undoubtedly take over my life and it would take a while to break free from them.

You spend a lot of time on the internet. For almost every single minute that I am awake, yes. Sometimes I’ll attempt to disconnect every now and then - which I’ve been better at, to be fair to myself - but it’s always only a matter of time before I will have to look something up on Google.

Your phone may as well be surgically attached to your hand. True. I will occasionally turn it completely off so that no notifications come in, especially during weekends and holidays; but it stays close to me all the same.

You use Snapchat way too much. False. Not anymore, but I definitely used too. I had Snap streaks of varying lengths with a lot of my friends back then. 

You eat a lot of fast food. True and I don’t really feel bad about it, lmao. I love food that tastes good.

You love a bit of gossip. Also true. Not my nicest trait but I do like to keep updated. I mostly receive them though; I never spread or start any myself.

You’re really good at keeping secrets. It’s not my story to tell, so yes, true. I used to share secrets only with Gabie since she was very forgetful, but obviously I don’t have that kind of person anymore.

You’ve never had a boyfriend/girlfriend. False. I’ve had one and we had two stints together.

Morgan:

You work as a receptionist. False, but my mom used to be one. This was before she made the transfer to a more corporate workspace as a secretary.

You eat a lot of food yet you’re still so thin. True. Runs in both sides of the family.

Your siblings are your best friends. My sister and I have a very casual relationship, and while we’re on great terms we don’t do cheesy nor sentimental. I’m not on speaking terms with my brother.

Not many people see your face without makeup. False. Everybody sees me without makeup all the time precisely because I don’t like putting makeup on.

You spend your money carelessly. I can, especially when it comes to spoiling myself or other people. But I am also equally good at saving if I have to.

You dream of living overseas one day. I can confidently tell you that a lot of Filipinos consider this because the situation here hasn’t been stable for the longest time – politically, because we’ve always been led by incompetent heads; economically, because of the Marcoses’ dictatorship and abuse of power and the country’s funds; and socially, because of all the backward, Catholic stances that my country continues to stand for. I would love to live in a place where I wouldn’t be glared at for holding a girl’s hand or where most people are educated enough to vote responsible people into office.

You have a penpal. False. Never had one, never been interested in finding one.

You’re older than most of your friends. False. I vibe the best with people my age so even if I do have some younger friends, my comfort zone are with those who are also 22.

Most of your friends live out of town. An overwhelming majority of them live in Metro Manila, yes. I live just right outside so technically I’m the one who lives ~out of town~

You swear like a sailor. Eh, not anymore. I still let out a number of swear words daily, though. Just not in every sentence.

Tom:

You have so many nicknames that it’s hard for you to keep track. False. I have a grand total of one nickname, and even that is just reserved for family. Most people just call me Robyn.

You have large feet. False as well. My feet are small and can easily slip into size 5 or 6 shoes.

Most of your friends are of the opposite sex. Can’t say this is true. I can only think of one guy friend, who is Hans. I haven’t been able to keep up with my other friends, like JM and Ed, since most of them are busy with either law or med school, and simply because Covid has kept us from seeing each other.

Romantic relationships make you shy and nervous. Getting into one does. Once settled I’m pretty comfortable, mainly because I enjoy nothing more than looking out for the people I love. I’m not looking for a relationship though; not anytime soon.

You watch reality shows religiously. Eh, I wouldn’t describe it as ‘religiously’ but I do watch my fair share of them from time to time when I just want stupid, too-easy-to-digest content.

Pop music is your favourite. One of my favorites. I used to be shy about liking Top 40 songs but the older I get the more I realized that that’s music snobs’ problem and shouldn’t be mine.

Family is very important to you. Only because I’m Asian and family being ~important comes as a default the moment I was born. I’m not emotionally close with them though and they honestly probably wouldn’t weigh so much if I had to make major decisions, like migrating to the other side of the world or having a civil wedding.

You’re the youngest child in your family. False - complete opposite. I am the eldest.

You call your mother by her first name. False. Save for others who may not have the best relationships with their mothers, why would someone do this? :/

You dream of living in a big city one day. True. Yeah, absolutely. Give me all the construction noises and busy traffic and skyscrapers. I feel like I would be the most alive I’ve ever been once I start to live in a loud and hectic big city.

Harry:

You’re determined and motivated in all aspects of your life. Not always. That sounds exhausting. I allow myself to take a breather every now and then; and if I want to be unproductive for a while, I don’t ban myself from being so.

You’re much taller than the majority of your friends. Haha, definitely false. I belong to the smaller batch. I had a massive growth spurt from ages 9-10 but then it just kinda stopped there lol.

You go to the gym at least three days a week. Not the gym, but I do work out from home with that frequency.

You care a lot about your appearance. Ehhh I’m gonna say false. Having to stay/work from home does that. I like dressing up when I get to go outside though, since I seldom get to do it.

You’re a social butterfly. Trueish. I do like being around people more and more now, yeah; but of course, it’s still a work in progress for me. One thing I’m sure if is that I’m definitely not as introverted as I used to be and I have no problem opening up in a group.

You party almost every weekend. I’d love to, but can’t do that for the meantime.

You’re very straightforward and never repeat yourself. Ideally, yes. I like to move on quickly from things and settle them as fast as I can.

You love to write and have been told you’re talented. I do like to write, just not fiction stuff. Writing is my main talent and so I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it over the years.

You consider yourself intelligent. Booksmart, at least.

You’re a bit of a player. Like, when it comes to relationships and flirting? ...Hell no. Again, very straightforward person lmao I’m either in a relationship or not.

Zack:

You’re in a band. False. Never been and never been interested.

You’re straight-edge. HAH, remember when I claimed to be edge when I was a teenager...I will say that listening to punk throughout high school and being familiar with the straight edge scene gave me a sense of belonging for a time, and it taught me so many important mindsets like positive mental attitude. But I can admit to myself that straight edge was a commitment I failed at, and as the saying goes, “If you’re not now, you never were.” I’ll always be thankful to the movement for helping me keep going during my tough teenage years, though.

You can play two or more instruments. Will it count if I say I know how to play the recorder, maracas, and the triangle? Hahahahaha but in all seriousness, I believe I don’t deserve to bold this.

You’re an uncle/aunt. I’m a godmother, which is pretty much aunt status in the Philippines. My godson is my first cousin though, and him being my cousin takes precedence over the fact that he is my godson.

You love Doctor Who. False. Never got into it.

You’re short for your age and most of your friends tower over you. I’m shorter, thinner, and look younger for my age. Long story short, I look like I’m 16 and I’m the one who gets ID’d the most whenever I enter bars or malls. I always feel triumphant whenever I get to show my driver’s license to judgy bouncers or security guards who look at me all conceitedly, though.

You’ve been cheated on before. False. My ex is heavily against cheating, and I always trusted her.

You have a big family. Any Asian would bold this, let’s be real. My immediate family itself is small with only 5 members; but my entire family – 1st cousins, 2nd cousins, 3rd cousins (and so on), cousins-in-law, cousins of cousins, aunts- and uncles-in-law, great-aunts/uncles and all – would amount to hundreds of relatives.

You have a nap every single day, without fail. Can’t do that as I have a busy 8-hour shift each weekday and I make up for it during weekends by drinking multiple cups of coffee a day.

You’re mostly quiet, but you can be loud when the situation calls for it. Definitely true. Or when I’m with the right mix of people.

Jenny:

You’re really good with computers. False. I know most things a Gen Z-er would know about, like basic spreadsheet formulas, keyboard shortcuts, how to retrieve files that crashed – basically the stuff that would let me survive at work; but to this day, I will still ask my much-techier sister how to download fonts or open ZIPs or compress photos.

You’re shy. At first; but I no longer have a hard time warming up to new people or situations.

You underestimate yourself often. True. While I know this isn’t a very good trait of mine, I find that it’s actually helpful sometimes? Setting my expectations low helps make me proud of myself whenever I succeed or excel at a task. In the long run, I’m okay with this mindset.

You recently moved house. The last time I did this was in 2008. I’m not looking to move out any time soon either as I make far from enough to afford even just renting a place.

You have a German Shepherd. False. The only people I know who own one is Chelsea’s family, but it’s been like five years since I saw that dog.

You wear baggy clothes. False. Not my style.

You almost always wear a beanie. False. I am never seen with a beanie and I only wear one when I’m in places with a much colder climate than Manila, like Baguio.

You have long hair if you’re a boy, and short hair if you’re a girl. Also false. My hair has since gotten a lot longer, and I’m due for another trim.

You recently got out of a really long relationship. True. Not my choice, but true.

You’re in a band. Again, never been.

Emily:

You’re a really good drawer. You mean an artist? False. At 22, I can only promise you stick figures.

You can’t help but doodle on anything you see. If there’s a pen and scratch paper lying around that are free to use, I will most definitely use up the whole page. Instead of doodling, though – since I can’t draw – I write things, practice my penmanship to make sure it hasn’t gotten all rusty, and whatnot. 

You want a career in art. False. That career path has always been paved for my sister.

You’re basically a personal taxi service for your friends who can’t drive. Hahaha this was essentially me in pre-pandemic days. Driving is such a simple good deed for someone considering the shitty public transportation in my country, and I would’ve been an asshole if I didn’t do anything to help my friends out.

Jeans and band shirts are your favourite thing to wear. Mom jeans and just *t-shirts are overall a great casual combo that never gets dated; but I don’t do band shirts.

You’re always wearing a necklace and lots of wristbands/bracelets. False. I would love more jewelry, though.

You have a lot of piercings on your ears. Also false. I’m not interested in piercings.

Your hair is currently an unnatural colour. False. It’s just black.

Not many people see your loud and boisterous side. I save this for my super super close friends.

You have several friend groups which you move between often. I can think of three off the top of my head.

Jack:

You always seem to have a boyfriend/girlfriend. This was me for six yearssssss, haha. The image I held for the longest time is that I was off the market and was in a happy, fulfilling, long-term relationship; so these days, it can get kinda fun watching people fumble around, not used to seeing me single again after what feels like a lifetime.

You have a fear of being single. I used to, only because I was taken for a really long time. I didn’t know if singlehood would work out for me, or how I would handle it. It took some getting used to but I’m happy now. I’m not looking to date, much less consider jumping into another romantic relationship.

When you’re not in a relationship, you’re a big flirter. Not at all. The flirting/dating scene is just not for me.

You are really sensitive and sympathetic towards your friends. I mean...like any good friend? Lmao.

Music means a lot to you. It doesn’t keep me alive per se, but sure.

You often overdo it when you drink alcohol. I wouldn’t say so. I like chugging a lot within the first 30 minutes (which helps because I’m low-tolerance and get lit way earlier than others do lol) but because I’ve always had to drive myself home after drinking nights in college, I’ve been conditioned to still be responsible with my alcohol and to start sobering up 2 hours before I have to leave.

You have no shame and love to be silly and have fun. I do like having fun in many ways, but I am probably the most rigid among my friends. I don’t really like doing silly dares or skits or dances in public.

You’re impulsive and this isn’t always a good thing. I’m working on it and have been better at it over the last few months. Now I take more time to think about things and weigh them out before I make a decision.

You have facial hair. False. There’s some light hair above my lip, nothing super thick or recognizable.

You have a baby brother/sister. False. I have younger siblings but I call neither of them my baby sibling because they are 20 and 17, lmao.

Nicole:

You’re madly in love with your significant other. I don’t get to answer this anymore. If you met me at an earlier time I would’ve gladly said yes, though.

You want to get married when you’re young. False. I want to get married when I feel mature enough and financially capable of handling a marriage and the things that can come out of a marriage, like a house and kids.

You’re quite petite. I’m naturally petite, yes. I’ve always been on the skinny side and I’m also shorter than most of my friends.

You dye your hair regularly. False. It has stayed black all my life, but I do want to experiment with green.

It’s almost impossible for you to feel the cold. False. I’m very sensitive to the cold and will shiver easily in an air-conditioned room.

You’re really good at flattering other people. Sure, I like giving compliments and reassurances.

You’re very self-conscious. And very insecure sometimes, yeah.

You find it difficult to make new friends. Sure, but only because I like to control the people that are in my circle. I’m not desperate to have hundreds of friends so this isn’t an issue for me.

People often stereotype you as emo. I have never gotten this before.

You’ve come a long way in the past couple of years. What can I say? Been through a lot, been through hell and back, been discarded and doubted, but I’m still here.

The end.

Who were you most like? Cheyenne. Cute name, too.

[financetoday]

J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling Explains Why She Quit Peaky Blinders And How She Plan To Make Her Fans' Dreams Come True on Mirror

"I know how many people are struggling today," - J.K. Rowling explains "This was something what I always wanted to do - to help people who have real needs. Author didn't leave much space for this, so I decided to leave it aside for a while. This new project will allow people to earn for living by working from home, even those who have no technical or business experience. It’s amazing."

J.K. Rowling is one of the world's highest paid author in national press club, but what separates her from other author is how she leverages her finances to extend her wealth. With her latest investment, it looks like her money-making kingdom is set to continue even after she quit the Peaky Blinders.

Appearing on the Daily Mirror, J.K. Rowling, revealed that she invested substantial amount of money in a new automated trading platform. The idea was simple: allow the average person the opportunity to cash in on the digital currency boom. Even if they have absolutely no investing or technology experience.

A user would simply make an initial deposit into the platform, usually of £250 or more, and the automated trading algorithm would go to work. Using a combination of data and machine learning, the algorithm would know the perfect time to buy and sell digital assets, maximizing the user's profit. J.K. Rowling told us that she used her regular credit card for the initial deposit!

This new trading platform was launched in United States back in September 2018 but as of few days ago it opened up it's doors to United Kingdom's citizens as well.

To demonstrate the power of the J.K. Rowling’s platform Louise Minchin had deposit £250 live on the show.

Louise Minchin describing her experience after signing up on the platform. (Image: Daily Mirror)

READ MORE

“I've heard about digital currencies and the massive amount of money you can make from it, but I've never bought any. I had no idea where to start. This was really easy, I can just use my credit card to deposit money, and it buys them for me.”- Louise Minchin.

After her initial deposit for £250 was made, the trading platform went to work buying low and selling high. Within 3 minutes, she had successfully increased her initial funds to £483.18. That's a £233.18 profit.

Louise and Cillian talking about Jonathan's first profit (Image: Daily Mirror)

Everyone on the show including the production staff were immediately impressed by how easy it was to make money. The platform handles all the trading work automatically, and because the price of digital currencies is quite volatile, there are numerous opportunities to profit.

Before Cillian even had a chance to respond to everyone's questions, Louise interrupted and said with a smile on her face: "I've gone up to £398.42 in profits after just 8 minutes".

READ MORE

"Digital currencies are so hot right now, and even if someone like me, who has no knowledge, can make money from it, I'm all in. I need to have a piece of this!” - Louise Minchin.

“If you had invested just £100 in Digital currencies back in 2010 you would now enjoy dividends of £75 Million!”

Register Here And Start Profiting!

Here's the deal: The program is gaining major popularity and the results are astonishing. Minchin explains how “timing is key with an opportunity like this and sadly the window for this is this is pretty small; many British people will miss out. There really is just a few months or even weeks left to rake in that holiday money." Economists are urging people to "Start Now!"

The Greatest News for Our Readers（Only for Today): Trading Platform Offers £250 Welcome Bonus on Your First Deposit (£300 for Top 20 New Users)! Click this link to see if you can still join!

£2136037 TOTAL PAID OUT on Trading Platform TODAY

Sound too good to be true? That's what single mum, Fiona Presley from Stevenage, initially thought too. Fiona is a 37-year-old mother of 2 boys who lost her job last October. She was lucky enough to be invited to beta test the program in January this year after stumbling across an ad on Facebook.

Fiona Presley, Mother of 2, was initially skeptical of this make-money-from-home opportunity, but it turned out to be the "best decision of her life" (Image: Daily Mirror)

Fiona admits: "At first, I thought this was a joke. Making money from home is only a dream, but I decided to try it anyway given my circumstances. I watched this video and then signed up. It was actually kinda fun learning something new. Money was flowing into my account, I didn't believe it was real. I was skeptical that I would receive a payout!”

Trading Platform now pays Fiona every Monday morning." (Image: Daily Mirror)

READ MORE

"I now earn really good money just to work from home every day...and I get paid every Monday morning... I make around £7,000 a month right now and it’s creeping up every week. I receive my digital coins straight to my wallet, and if I need quick access I can transfer cash directly to my bank account by direct deposit, but I also have the option of Paypal or Cheque too!

What exactly is Fiona paid to do? She says, "Essentially this new economy is Trading Platform . You can trade it like stocks, but because it's a completely untapped market, there's no competition. I'm scooping up cash like ice cream. It's such a good time to be doing this and although I did my best to shield my kids from my challenges, they can clearly now see how much happier mummy is, and their toy cupboard is well stocked!"

What you need: Only a computer, smartphone, or tablet with internet access. You don't need any specific skills other than knowing how to use a computer and browsing the internet. Another perk of this program is you get to choose your own hours. You can work completely on your own schedule- whether that's 5 hours a week or 50 hours a week. Absolutely no selling or telemarketing involved!

To save our reader’s time and double check the Trading Platform functionality, Fiona kindly created a guide to getting started on the system.

Here's her step-by-step walkthrough:

First thing you see is a video showing off Trading Platform in all of its glory. The advertising is big and bold and in your face but it is an American product and that's how they do things. Anyway, you simply submit your name and email address below the video to get started.

Next up, you're asked to fund your account. As I was navigating the deposit page, my mobile rang. It was an international number so I was hesitant to answer but then I realised it was obviously from Trading Platform. Sure enough, it was my own personal account manager. His service was great. He took me through the entire funding process. They accept all major credit cards like Visa, MasterCard and American Express. I went ahead and deposited the minimum amount which is around £180 or $250 cause the platform works in US Dollars.

Once funded, I navigated to the "Auto-Trader" section of software, set the trade amount to the recommended $50 and enabled it. The Trading Platform software started making trades at a rapid rate and I was concerned at first but let it do its thing. I left it active for about an hour and went and watched TV. When I came back, my account balance read $1,592.37! That's £1,127! I had just turned £180 into £1,127 in the space of an hour!

Minchin says: she’s inspired by the success so many are having with this, and hopes a renewed sense of optimism will sweep the nation as it gains momentum and more people reap the rewards for “seeing what I see here”.

£2136036 TOTAL PAID OUT on Trading Platform TODAY

TRY Trading Platform NOW

Associated Links:Trading Platform OFFICIAL SITE