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neoculturetravesty · 4 years ago

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He’s never called her pretty

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Doyoung x Florist!Reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff Warnings: Might have dropped a couple of f bombs. Word Count: 4982

Summary: Doyoung has a cruel realization that being an idol has hindered him from being the best boyfriend to you.

A/N: This is my first fic ever, and I can’t really believe I’m doing this. But inspiration hit me and I had to let it all out. Let me know what you think!

“Has he ever even told you you’re pretty?” Doyoung hears through the curtains, and he knows he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have. He doesn't know how he ended up here but he certainly can’t reveal himself now. He knows he shouldn’t be here but a pressing instinct tells him that the conversation concerns him and suddenly, he’s found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move his feet, sinfully listening in.

Moments ago, he had walked into the venue and for a while, he had just stopped and stared. He had known his girlfriend was talented, but watching her work for the very first time with his own two eyes took his breath away. People would talk about your skills all the time, but somehow, it never registered in his mind. He felt a bout of shame as he realized this. You weren’t just a florist, it seemed. You were an artist, because what Doyoung saw in front of him was unlike anything he had ever seen. That’s why people talked about you.

When an unassuming usher walked up to him and asked if he was a guest, all he could manage was “I’m looking for Y/N.” He had to remind himself that he was here to surprise you and he needed to make himself less conspicuous before someone recognized him. The fact that he was ogling at the decor whilst clutching onto a bouquet of red tulips didn’t help the matter. So he had tried to follow the usher’s instructions as best he could to find you. That’s how he found himself here, hidden behind a veil without meaning to be hidden.

It felt perverse, the fact that he was not letting his presence be known, but curiosity had him unable to walk away. He listened in.

“Well… not in so many words.” Doyoung feels his stomach drop before he hears the reply to the cruel question, because the voice that answered it was a voice that he had memorized perfectly in every part of his mind. It was yours.

He could hear you from miles away, that’s how attuned his ears were to the sound of your voice. He knew it was you that answered that foul question, as much as he stood in that moment, hoping it wasn’t because these were not the words he had ever expected to hear from you.

“How long have you guys been together, again?” He hears another pestering, unkind voice and his heart races.

“Not long, maybe about 5 months?” your voice is meek, Doyoung can sense your discomfort through the thin veil that hides him.

“Have you met his parents?” It’s a different voice this time, but this one is just as unkind. Doyoung wants to move, to say something but he’s not supposed to be here in the first place, and truth be told, he wants to remain hidden because he wants to know.

“Well, no. Not yet. They don’t live here, so not yet.” He can tell you’re cornered, you’re uncomfortable, you want to leave and you don’t have to say the words for Doyoung to know exactly how you feel.

“How about his brother?”

“Well, they’re both really busy, he’s just… never had a chance I guess.” Now, he should do it now. Doyoung should barge in and take you away from this. Who are these women anyway to be cornering you with such invasive questions?

“So you’re saying in the 5 months you’ve been together, he’s kept you a secret… even from his family.” A secret? He hasn’t kept you a secret, he’s just been waiting for the perfect time.

“I don’t think I’m a secret.” Doyoung’s heart leaps in his chest and he suddenly feels hopeful because you’ve said the words as if you heard his thoughts.

“Y/N… I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think he’s going to break up with you.” the unkind voice declares with a tone laced with feigned pity. It makes Doyoung sick.

“Yeah, Sooji is right. Y/N, sweetheart… men don’t wait that long if they’re in it for the long run.”

There is a shuffling of feet and then the first voice says “I’m so sorry, Y/N, but it would be better this way I think. I know men like him. He’s had his fun so now you’re a liability. I think he’s going to cut you off sooner rather than later.”

Doyoung hears the ruffling of clothes and more shuffling of feet before it all turns silent. Yet, he finds himself unmoving, his mind racing, his body still. He notices that he’s holding onto the red tulips a bit too tight. Red tulips. ‘You are my perfect love,’ that’s what he remembers you teaching him about them.

So why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you defend him?

Doyoung can’t explain it, but all he feels in this moment is anger and betrayal. Why did you let those women talk about him like that? To talk about the two of you like that? Why didn’t you speak up and tell them to keep their noses out of your business? Why didn’t you tell them to knock it off because they don’t know about you, about how the two of you were together? Unless…

Unless you believed them.

Had he ever told you that you were pretty? Doyoung thinks, really thinks about it. He thinks back to your first date. You had closed your flower shop early for him, to protect him from prying eyes and unwanted camera lenses. You had turned the blinds on the windows down and showed Doyoung your creations. You had worn a white sundress with your hair down and when you had smiled up at him from behind the sunflowers, Doyoung had actually found himself a loss for words. He had never felt that before, the feeling of losing his speech because a girl had actually taken his breath away, simply by smiling at him. He remembered stupidly wondering if he had fallen in love at that moment or if you were really just that beautiful that you turned his brain to mush. Had he told you that he thought you were pretty then? No, he hadn’t. Not in so many words, your answer replays in his mind with a sting.

But did you want to hear it? Doyoung hadn’t thought so. You were far beyond the need for meaningless expressions, he had presumed. It’s why he was drawn to you. Being with you was as easy as breathing. You were okay about the fact that the two of you couldn’t go on dates… or proper dates, in the way real people did. You always seemed comfortable enough sitting next to him on the couch as you lazily browsed through Netflix. You were never in a mood when Doyoung forgot to text you back because he was in the studio, and you always met him with warmth even as you waited because his practice went on for a bit too long. Doyoung didn’t think you were the kind who’d wait around for her boyfriend to tell her she was pretty.

‘Of course she wanted to hear it,’ Doyoung thinks in a moment of crippling realization. He was a fool. What woman wouldn’t want her boyfriend to tell her she was pretty! What woman wouldn’t want her boyfriend to take her on dates, on proper dates where she could doll up and be pampered? What woman wouldn’t want a boyfriend she could take pictures with and post them for the world to see? He was a fool. He had taken your kindness to mean something else. Comfort. Contentment. Complacence. He was a fool.

And now these women had convinced you that he wasn’t interested in you. And you had believed them. Why else would you have fallen silent? Truth be told, he hadn’t done much to show you what you meant to him. Now that he looks back, it was always you putting in the effort. He was a fool. And now here he was. Hidden quite literally behind a curtain in a room he wasn’t supposed to be in, head in his hands. ‘You are my perfect love,’ the tulips mock him so he drops them. He gets out of there, only one conclusive thought in his brain: ‘She deserves better.’

You loved events like these almost as much as you loved running the store. Your fingers were stained from creating the floral sculptures and your back ached a little. But your heart was happy. You stood back and looked at how you took a simple venue and turned it into something magical, if you might say so yourself. You saw the gleam in your client’s eyes and you felt proud of yourself. You had done well. You took a deep, content breath and let it out in a happy sigh. Decorating for events like these reminded you why you loved your job. What you didn’t like was that inevitably, at times like these, you were met with so many invasive questions.

“You work so much, don’t you get tired, Y/N?”

“Is being a florist really worth it?”

“Don’t you ever want a real job?”

“Are you dating someone, Y/N?”

“I know a guy, I could set you up on a blind date!”

Over the years, you had learnt to tune them out. They didn’t bother you, not really. You were happy in the true sense of the word, and meaningless gossip didn’t change that. You had learnt to work in silence, usually with your Airpods in, letting them out only when your trusted employees came to give you a hand.

You stood in front of your creation one last time, committing it to memory. It had taken you about a week to create all these floral sculptures but now that you stood here looking at the finished product, you felt it was worth it. You spent some more time taking pictures of what you’d made and proudly posted them on your Instagram.

You felt a sense of accomplishment, as one would feel at the end of a project that ended in success. You wanted to celebrate, have this tiring week end in an exhale. And if you asked yourself, there was no one else you wanted to share this happy moment with but Doyoung. You smiled as you thought of him. You realized that your mind somehow sneakingly thought of him every time you felt a surge of joy. Surely, that had to mean something.

He had said he’d meet you today after you were done and the two of you could celebrate together. You were in a happy daze as you went into the changing rooms to get out of your stained clothes and into something prettier. Not even the women that bombarded you with personal questions while you changed could get you out of your blissful state. You swiped some color on your lips and let them throw questions at you. You answered them on autopilot, just to be polite.

When you were ready, you went back to your makeshift workstation at the venue and looked at the leftover flowers. White carnations and anemones, an odd combination, but these are the only ones that remained. You put them together anyway and tied them with a ribbon when you were happy with what you made. Doyoung always appreciated it when you brought him flowers. He had joked how it was supposed to be his job, but what could he do when he was dating a florist. So you did all the bringing of flowers in the relationship. ‘He would surely like these’, you thought to yourself with a stupid grin on your face.

You clutched onto the flowers as you took the bus to your boyfriend’s apartment. You wondered if he had eaten. He had been so busy lately. Maybe you’d get him food when you got there. As you neared his building, you had a sudden bout of self awareness on how you might look. You were dolled up, holding onto a bouquet of flowers, making your way to an idol’s building. You looked so foolishly conspicuous that you almost had to stop to laugh at yourself. You giggled, mentally smacking yourself on the forehead, and took a detour. In your early days, Doyoung had taught you how to get to his building without being seen, because as you would have it, there were always a bunch of people with cameras camped outside, ready to catch a glimpse of him. He had explained this to you so apologetically that your heart had ached for him.

You would never admit it to anyone, but you kind of enjoyed the thrill of taking a roundabout way every time you came to see him. It made you feel like you were the heroin in your very own spy thriller. You took the back door of the next building and made your way to the fire escape, eyes on the landing of Doyoung’s building. The leap over was narrow and you managed it every time without fail.

“Success!” You thought to yourself, as you landed, creeping in the shadows of his building till you were finally inside, keeping one eye on the group of people camped outside. “Don’t catch a cold, guys,” you thought, still grinning to yourself as you finally made your way to his apartment on the fifth floor.

He had told you to let yourself in, so you punched in the code and finally stepped in. “It’s me!” You called out to let yourself be known. You made your way in and saw your boyfriend leaning over the kitchen counter, head bowed over a bowl of something. ‘Good. He’s finally eating’ you thought and walked towards him, giving him a kiss on the cheek “Hi, babe.” you smiled at him, cupping his face from the side.

You could see that he was clenching his jaw a little and the fact that he doesn’t look up from his bowl of porridge makes you wonder if he’s had a tough day. “I got you flowers, let me put them in a vase real quick.” You say, not wanting to push him. Maybe in a while, after he had eaten, you could hold him and ask him if something was the matter.

You turned to grab an empty vase, one you had gotten him, and filled it with water. For a while, the only sounds are the gentle rustling of leaves as you place your arrangement in the vase and Doyoung stirring his porridge. Suddenly, you hear his voice, his tone low. “What do these flowers mean?”

“Hmm…? Oh, these?” you give him a warm smile. Doyoung would ask you this every time you brought him something. So you’d make sure to bring him something new each time. “White carnations generally symbolize innocence and pure love. And these anemones… they symbolize sincerity. Although this little guy is stained a little pink, so it could also mean forsaken love. But it’s not it’s true color, so I’m going to let it slide.” you try to joke to lighten the heaviness you feel in the air.

Doyoung looks pensive, like he’s thinking your explanation over. “Forsaken love.” he repeats, like he’s feeling the weight of the words on his tongue.

“Hmm… but the clients ordered white anemones, I guess this one got a little stained on the way.” you say, trying to keep the tone conversational, but you can feel the air getting tenser, burdening down on the two of you. So you reach out a hand to stroke his hair “Are you okay?” you ask kindly but the words have barely left your lips when Doyoung flinches away and turns to face you.

Your heart drops. Something has changed, that much you can sense, but you’re so confused. “Doyoung?”

He looks impatient, but not with you. You can tell you’ve found him amidst a battle with himself. Like he was working out his thoughts but you walked in and interrupted and now it’s all messed up. “Don’t you ever want a real boyfriend?” he asks suddenly, looking down at you, eyes distant.

“A real boyfriend?” you repeat, looking up at him. You can’t help the concern that shines in your eyes, even if you try to downplay it. You just want to reach out to him but you dare not; not when he’s protecting himself from you.

“A real boyfriend.” He turns the phrase over. “Someone who wouldn’t hide you like he’s ashamed of you.” There is venom in his tone now.

“But you’re not ashamed of me, Doyoung.” You say his name, wanting him to hear you pronounce it with love and kindness. “You’re not hiding me because you’re ashamed of me. You’re hiding me to protect me.”

He scoffs then, looking away and places his hands on his waist. Like you’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Doesn’t it make you worry that you haven’t even met my family yet?”

You take a step closer to him but he moves away and your heart aches once again. You can’t help the hurt you feel. ‘But that’s what he wants.’ You have to tell yourself ‘He’s trying to hurt me because he’s hurting.’

“Do you want me to meet your family, Doyoung?” You ask carefully, saying his name once again, this time to anchor yourself. You never could say his name with disdain.

Doyoung laughs. It’s cold, the way he stands there to mock you. But you know him too well. He’s trying to be cruel, to block you out, and a strange part of you wants to know how long he can keep this facade up. “Wake up, Y/N. Don’t you think that if I wanted you to meet my family, it would’ve happened already?”

You look up at him and this time, you can’t hide the confusion that contorts your face. You were trying to be patient with him, trying to keep your calm and kindness while he spat venom at you. You knew he was hurting. You just wished you knew what brought this on. “Doyoung… what’s wrong? Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” You walk towards him, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between the two of you.

“Don’t you think that if I wanted to keep you, I would’ve… I would’ve… Y/N, don’t come any closer.” He blocks with his forearms as you reach for his face, turning his body away from you.

“Doyoung, look at me, please. Please.” You gently plead, still reaching out for his face while he blocks you and keeps moving away.

“Haven’t you wondered why I’ve never taken you out on a date? Why I’ve never been the one to bring you flowers? Why I’ve never stayed the night in your bed? Why I’ve never kept any sign of you in my room? Why I’ve never introduced you to my family?” He’s spitting at you now with his words, one sting after another, but you’re fighting back. You’re still reaching for him and he’s still moving away, he’s still blocking you, he’s still protecting himself. But you can see his walls faltering, you hear the tremors in his voice.

“Doyoung, please, just let me--”

“--Y/N, have I ever even told you you were pretty?” At that, relief washes over you as you finally understand what’s up. Those women. Had they tried to corrupt his mind as they had tried to corrupt yours?

“Don’t you see it, Y/N? I don’t wanna be with you, I don’t wanna be…” he’s breaking now, and you can tell he doesn’t have the energy to keep it up any longer because his lies end in a sob and he’s doubling over, like he can’t hold himself up anymore.

And so you hold him. You put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek “Doyoung. It’s okay. Baby, it’s okay.” You kiss his cheekbone, you kiss his jawline, you take his face in your palms and make him look at you. You press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s not okay.” He croaks, his chest heaving from the sobs.

“Shhh… baby, breathe.” You coo at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead, combing his hair away from his face with your fingers. You kiss his cheek and then his lips tenderly, once, twice and a third time. You pull back to look at him.

He falls into you then, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry…” he sobs, and there is such sincerity in his voice that your heart breaks into a thousand pieces. You never wanted to see him like this.

You turn your head and keep pressing kisses to his temple while he remains buried in your neck. “Shhh, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.” You cradle the back of his head, run your hands across his back to soothe him till he calms.

He takes a deep breath and straightens, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand “I’m sorry.” He says again and you coo at him once more, shushing him, kissing him on the lips.

“You’re so cold.” You rub his shoulders as you notice him shivering. “Come, let’s get you to bed and warm you up.” He doesn’t protest as you take his hand and lead him to his room.

The house was quiet today and that told you no one was around. Doyoung’s room was as well kept as ever and you smiled as you saw the plant you had given him alive and thriving on his windowsill. ‘No sign of you in my room’ you scoff internally as his words play over in your mind. Doyoung was so bad at lying. You dimmed his lights and got into his bed, lifting the covers for him. “Come here.” You invite him in.

He obeys this time, like he doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore. He gets in, placing his head on your chest, throws an arm around your waist and a leg over your legs. You encircle him in your embrace. ‘He wants to be held.’ You thought and so you held him tight. Like you were trying to take his pain away. You tucked the covers around him, cocooning him in as he clung to you. You stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head over and over, wanting to let him know that he was loved. But you knew that soon you’d have to use your words.

So you took his hand in yours and pressed a kiss to the back of it before you said “I love you, Doyoung. So much. You’ve given me your heart. Don’t you know that’s enough?” But as soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you hadn’t said them, at least not now, because a fresh pool of tears run down his eyes. You wipe them away with your thumb and kiss the top of his head, tucking it under your chin.

“It’s not enough.” He sniffles. “I can’t give you what another man can give you, Y/N. I can’t hold your hand and walk you home because I’d be worried someone with cameras would follow me. I can’t pick you up after work and take you to the movies because what if someone recognizes me. Fuck, I can’t even let you into my home by the front door. I have to make you jump between buildings and risk your safety like that because I’m such a selfish man and I need you. You don’t deserve any of this.”

Your poor, sweet boy. You press a palm to his forehead “I had no idea you had so many worries in this head of yours.” You muse, a smile in your voice.

“Any other man would show you off so proudly. He would take pictures with you and post them for the world to see. He would take you out to dinner, he would kiss you without fear of getting caught. He would visit you when you had an important day to cheer you on. I haven’t given you any of that. I can’t give you any of that. Do you know I didn’t even know how good you were at what you did until today? Because I can’t just show up to support you. It’s always you making all the effort. You’re the one that has to change your plans according to my schedule. You’re the one that has to come to me all the time. You’re the one that has to plan all our dates. You don’t deserve any of this.” There is so much regret in his voice, so much sadness that suddenly, you’re a bit irked. None of that means anything to you, so why is he feeling that way?

You frown at him now “Doyoung. What makes you think I want any of that? Do you think I’d be with you if that’s the life I wanted? If that was the kind of relationship I wanted?” you try to lift his chin to make him see your face so he knows your words are true.

He looks at you sadly then shakes his head “You shouldn’t have to settle, Y/N. Just because I can’t give you these things doesn’t mean you have to stop yourself from wanting them.”

You’re getting impatient now. Why doesn’t he get it? How could you possibly make him understand? You’ll just have to use your words. You sit up and pull him up with you so you could look at his face when you talked.

“Listen, you sweet, stupid, broody boy.” You smack him lightly on the head. “I don’t want any of that. I’ve never been one to like any of that. I don’t want a boyfriend that’s worried about performative grand gestures all the time. I hate that, and I know you know that about me. I don’t want fancy dates, I don’t want to post our pictures all over the internet. I never did that with any of my other relationships!” Doyoung makes a face when you mention this part, but you continue, “This,” you hold his hand in both of yours, “This is what I want. Just to sit next to you. To watch movies together cuddled on your couch. To come to see you at the end of the day and know you’ll be waiting for me. To sit together and talk about our day. To cook together and have Taeyong make fun of our failed attempts. To hold your hand and just… exist with you. This. This is what I want. Don’t you think that if I wanted something else I would have asked?” You didn’t expect it, but you are irritated at him. This was rare… this was something you hadn’t felt toward him before.

Doyoung’s expression has softened as he looks at you. He sighs “You have to bear so much because of me. I know people ask you questions. People wonder why you’re with me. They make assumptions about you. They spread rumours about you. You shouldn’t have to go through any of that.”

“Doyoung.” You say, and this time, he’s hurt your pride a little. He has underestimated you. So your voice is serious “Do you think that I’d be with you if I didn’t have an amount of determination? Do you think I lead my life worrying about what people say about me?”

He smiles then, a real smile, an amused smile and he leans over to stroke your head. “That you are. Determined and strong.” He tilts his head and kisses you and you kiss him back.

You pull back but keep his face in your palms. “Please don’t let other people’s opinions affect you, Doyoung. You know I love you. You know I am the happiest I’ve ever been. Who cares what other people say about us?”

He pulls you into his chest and holds you and lets out a deep exhale, like he was holding his breath this entire time and now the worst is past. He holds you contentedly, like he finally believes you are his for the keeping. He holds you like a relief and he can’t stop the swell of happiness in his chest or the smile that keeps growing on his lips. “What have I done to deserve a woman like you?”

“You must have been a saint in your past life. But for now, you can feed me. I’ve had a long day and all I want to do now is carb-load on Chinese takeout that my boyfriend will buy me.” You pout at him, narrowing your eyes.

He kisses the tip of your nose and says “I’ll get you everything on the menu.”

“That’s the spirit.” You pat his chest twice and get up “You make the order, I’ll go set the table.” You say, starting to move to the kitchen but Doyoung grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Y/N…” he says and stands up, making you turn around to face him. He comes closer and suddenly, your heart flutters. He tucks your hair behind your ears and looks at you so tenderly, you feel like your legs have turned to jelly.

“You are so beautiful.” he says in a voice barely above a whisper but it washes over your body like a thrilling chill first, followed by the warmth of spring sunshine. It’s stupid, the way you’re blushing like you were a silly teenager and you can’t possibly stop the grin that’s making it’s way on your face. Your eyes are sparkling as they look into Doyoung’s sincere ones. So this is how it felt. Maybe having your boyfriend tell you you were pretty wasn’t overrated after all.

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archived-kin · 4 years ago

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solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts.

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.”

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all.

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #swd solomon #swd mammon #swd simeon #solomon x reader #reader insert #male reader #fluff #domestic sorcerer husbands #planning on turning this into a series if i can haha

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ogravensimp · 3 years ago

Text

Dad!Constantine AU: Rhiannon

first one shot in my Dad!Constantine AU but there is plenty more of this to come so enjoy and make sure to tell me what you think :D

"John? What's that? Is it a tool to help us practice today? John? Is tha-”

Constantine couldn't help but chuckle at the string of questions coming from behind him. He began to think about how less than a few months ago the little girl would barely say a word a day…now he can’t get her to ever shut up.

He turned around and looked down at the tiny figure that sat cross-legged on his rug, who only looked back up at him with confusion in her huge purple eyes. Unlike the ancient power that was leaking out of her, the child in front of him looked exactly as harmless as you'd expect a 7-year old to look.

With her dark-plum hair unevenly clipped short to reach her chin and choppy bangs to cover the red gem on her forehead, it really gave you the illusion that she was a normal human child. And John liked to pretend that the terrible haircut helped achieve a more ‘innocent’ look and in fact, better hid her demonic origins…but that was probably just his only defence against his conscience that nagged at him for not going to a professional.

But hey, she was the one that begged him to cut off her originally waist-length hair and he gave it his best shot with the tools at his disposal—which happened to only be a pair of kitchen scissors, an old magazine for reference and a faded ruler for 'accuracy', but at least Raven seemed happy enough.

He felt his lip tug as he remembered how she had childishly bobbed her head left and right in the mirror afterwards; enjoying the liberation of short hair.

It seemed Azarath’s refusal to cut her hair off was the only thing the kid seemed to dislike about the place.

In fact, she had thrown a near fit when John recommended they ditch the tattered white Azarathian robes he had found her in when he pulled her from the depths of hell. He looked at her current outfit and noted that she seemed to have grown quite comfortable with the human clothes given to her.

She currently donned a large purple knit sweater and a pair of baggy jeans with flowers sewn on the legs. They were probably in style twenty years ago and weren't even her size but John had limited knowledge on where to find children's clothes(or about children in general) and assumed she'd just 'grow into them someday' when he had chosen them from a local thrift store.

Again, as long as Raven liked them.

"This, my little angel, is a music record," he held up the square packaging to her and made a show of sliding out the large disk inside, "This plays music. They allow music up in that Azarath place of yours or just prayers?"

"In Azarath? No, not really," John noticed whenever that cult of her's was brought up, she'd always lower her tone and look down at her fingers as if apprehensive of speaking wrong of them—John didn't know why though, they sounded like a bunch of wankers to him, "Azar said that music is a distraction that would only disrupt my mind by causing me to feel...feelings."

John felt the melancholy in the air as she spoke. It was rare she shared anything; for a kid, she was pretty secretive and John couldn't help but push to know more about his new ward, "And that's a no go, ey?"

"Only for me." She seemed almost smaller now, trying to hide deeper in her baggy clothes—maybe that's why she never pushed for more accurately sized clothes, "The others would sometimes gather to sing mantras in the courtyard as that’s the only type of music allowed but during those times Azar would always put me in the highest tower so I never really heard anything but muffles.”

John sighed.

Sometimes he didn't know if those quacks in Azarath wanted to actually raise Raven or terminate her but the more he learnt, the more he found the answer leaning towards the latter.

He crossed the living room in one large step and kneeled to be face to face with the little girl who stared up at him, nervous, "Listen, angel, I don't know much about Azarathian chants but I do know...", this time he allowed the girl to touch the record—though gently, "Fleetwood Mac. The best band in the world."

"What makes them so special?", Raven asked softly as she marvelled at the disc in her hand; holding it like it was a precious treasure.

John smiled— something he found himself doing a lot of since the arrival of this certain hellspawn. Plucking the records from the girl's small hands, he stood up and reapproached the player he was standing by, "Let me tell you a little secret in the magical community, love."

He placed the record on the player before dropping the pin and quickly turning, excited to see the reaction on the girl's face. Raven just looked confused, her mini caterpillar eyebrows scrunching up on her forehead as the guitar intro began.

"Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her?"

He plopped onto the floor next to Raven and turned to her, "You hear her? Like a voice from heaven, innit?"

The little girl just nodded, probably unsure of the right answer.

"Takes to the sky like a bird in flight And who will be her lover?"

"Her name is Stevie Nicks and she's...one of us," He made a gesture of pointing between both of them to symbolise his point, his smile growing as her amethyst eyes twinkled in interest, " The 'White Witch' we call her but non-supernatural's don't know nothing about that, all they hear is the music but we, we can truly hear her."

"All your life you've never seen Woman taken by the wind

Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?"

Taking her tiny palms in his, he instructed, “Now I want you to focus on your inner soul.”

She obediently followed instructions, letting her eyes fall closed and she instantly shifts to focus mode with an expression as still as a statue.

"She is like a cat in the dark And then she is to darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark And when the sky is starless"

Through her delicate skin, he could feel her once-raging magic begin to ease from the form of a ceaselessly pouring tsunami to simple irregular waves in a vast ocean.

"Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

See, with Stevie Nicks being a witch herself, it only makes sense that some of her magic got laced inro all her music. Magic that had the properties to almost soothe one's magical core and opened up internal gates that were causing a blockage in one's being.

Similar to meditation. Just a whole lot more fun.

John simply didn’t believe in all that meditation stuff that Raven so pliably relied on and if he was going to take her in, it was his duty to teach her the many other ways she can control her abilities.

"Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon"

"I can feel it...I can feel what she's saying." Raven's voice was so soft that John almost didn't catch what was spoken.

Suddenly there was an intense spike in the calm aura that's once surrounded them. He felt the hands in his grasp tense as her once still expression drastically changed.

"She rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her?"

Her small face was soon blown in full panic. Sweating like bullets, her already drained of life skin seemed even paler and the strength she used to struggle suppressed what a child of her stature should be able of achieving but John made sure to hold tight.

"She rules her life like a bird in flight And who will be her lover? All your life you've never seen Woman taken by the wind"

"John I don't like this! I...I can feel too much... make it stop!", Her eyelids shuddered as she seemed to be forcing them to stay shut.

Continuing to wiggle in his grasp, the magic concentration in the room got thicker and thicker making it harder to breathe but this was exactly what needed to happen and John knew this. So even though her hurting voice made his heart shatter, he had no choice but to steel his resolve in the face of her cries and just hope it will pay off, “John!? John, please….DAD!”

John didn’t know what hurt more, the way her demonic magic was stabbing him like shards of glass in his skin or the pain in her voice as she called him the title he never in his life thought he’d be referred as.

"Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

“This is all your magic, angel, you got to feel your magic. Can't just lock it up, this is all you,”, he gritted his teeth while he was explaining, and filled with some unknown determination, he spat out a phrase he normally tried to avoid, “you have to trust me.”

Raven’s eyes flew open at that, revealing the orbs of amethyst that were wetting with tears. Her little mind struggled to wrap around the statement John had just said and for a moment she just stared at him. It felt like the longest moment of John’s life because he knew her empathic abilities could see the nervous wreck he truly is and he worried that would dissuade her.

For a second there was no action.

"Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon"

Until, much to John’s surprise, she nodded, “ok…I trust you.”

And John could literally feel the truth in her words as she stopped struggling in his hands and started to return back to the focused zone she had been in before.

This time though, her eyes were open and staring straight at him but John found himself not minding.

“Good.” John took on the role of closing his eyes as he began to concentrate.

"Taken by taken by the sky" "Taken by taken by the sky" "Taken by taken by the sky"

He wasn’t going to just burden a 7-year-old with whatever destructive sorcery that was sealed in her small body, it was his job as her teacher and her…dad to try and guide the freed magic back to her core.

But for that, he needs to concentrate real hard.

The moment John could feel air moving in his lungs again, he knew he had succeeded. Opening his eyes up, he was met with the same pools of purple still staring.

“So, how’d you feel?”

"Dreams unwind Love's a state of mind Dreams unwind Love's a state of mind"

That was when Raven finally broke eye contact and instead looked down at her fingers, not in nervousness but this time in amazement, as if she could see the magic in her fingertips, “I don’t know…tingly.”

This time Constantine let a deep genuine laugh escape his throat at her childish choice of words, “That’s good, means your magic is finally spreading. If you ask me that’s a better option than keeping it all sealed up.”

Raven tilted her head to the side, once again confused.

Constantine didn’t blame her though, her little head was probably going through something similar to a whirlwind at this point.

After all, in her first few years of life, she had lived a life of nothing but restriction and then he spawns from nowhere finds and brings her from hell, seals her oh-so scary father in said hell and then begins to dismantle everything she’s ever been thought to believe in, in the first place.

Must be a lot for a 7-year-old to bear.

Luckily though, Raven is 7 and they aren’t known for dwelling on things for too long.

“Do you have any more songs like that?” She asked, now focused on the player that stood in silence now that the record had reached its end.

John smirked at that, “Oh plenty more of where that came from and we aren’t gonna stop at just Fleetwood, we got some Zeplin, Rolling Stones and��”

Raven just nodded, again, not knowing the right answer and simply letting herself be ‘educated’ on all things that John Constantine had to offer.

In her opinion, this was far more fun than her old teachings.

yes I got the Stevie Nicks is a witch from ahs coven, so expect a lot more supernatural TV crossovers in this AU cause they're now my obsession

#this family au is my comforte fantasy #raven teen titans #john constantine #dad!constantine #teen titans #dc comics #hellblazer #constantine & raven #fanfic #raven dc

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cas-kingdom · 4 years ago

Text

Tricky

A/N: Because Neal Caffrey would be the best big brother.

Title: Tricky

Summary: You’re sick and tired of Neal constantly doing things to land himself in prison.

Words: 2390

You knew your brother was tricky.

You’d be an idiot not to know it.

He was Neal Caffrey, after all, and your entire life he’d been stealing and thieving, robbing and running, never really having the time to stop.

You’d asked him once why he’d never just dropped you off on the door of someone’s house and go on about his own life, free of his baby sister, free of the weight on his shoulders, but he’d told you to stop being silly and had moved onto another subject entirely.

Peter had asked him as well, though. Not when you’d been nearby. It’d been on a night the man had come over to June’s for a drink with Neal, and they’d gone out to the balcony and left the door wide open. They’d thought you had been asleep, but you hadn’t, and you’d heard Peter ask your brother more or less the same question.

“Because she’s mine,” Neal had responded, just loud enough for you to hear. “My sister. My responsibility. My kid, you know? She had no one else. I had no one else. And my life was a... crap thing for her to be involved in... I know that. But I couldn’t let her go, Peter. I don’t know if that was selfishness on my side, but I couldn’t. And I’m glad I never did. If I’m at all sane, it’s because of her.”

You’d been able to sleep peacefully after that.

It hadn’t been that you’d feared the answer. More that you’d simply wondered if the thought had ever crossed his mind. Living the crime-high life surely wasn’t as easy with a child tailing him every step he took. Of course, Mozzie and Kate had helped, especially when he’d gone to prison, but since he’d been out and he’d somehow managed to persuade Peter he was capable of caring for his sixteen-year-old sister himself, it’d just been him and you. And Mozzie. But Mozzie was always there.

In the four years you had been apart from your brother, however, you’d learnt a lot. The ideals of the human, crime-free life. What it felt like to live in one place, despite the fact that one place wasn’t with Neal. What it felt like to not be in constant fear of the police and FBI chasing you around the world...

So, somehow, much to Peter’s satisfaction, you’d been the one person keeping your brother on the almost straight and slightly narrow since his release from prison. Or, rather, escape.

In a way, his job working for the FBI and newfound life meant he’d been given a second chance. To spend time with you that wasn’t limited or uncertain. And it was something the both of them had not taken for granted.

But, Neal Caffrey was tricky, and you knew it.

You hadn’t seen him take the key to his anklet, but then you never did. He’d once taken a slice of birthday cake right out from under your nose and had been so good a liar you’d blamed it on Mozzie for five minutes until the slice magically appeared again, a bite taken from it.

You’d still blamed Mozzie.

Now, you knew better.

And you’d thought that after four years in prison, Neal would more or less know better, too.

But the moment he’d found out Fowler might have been the cause of Kate’s death, he’d taken his anklet’s key from his pocket. It’d been a waiting game for him. You hadn’t even known he’d taken it.

The both of you had been at home. You were sat at the table, scrolling mindlessly through irrelevant articles on your laptop to pass the time. Neal had been out on the balcony, but he’d strolled in a moment ago, and the second you absently flicked your eyes up to look at him, you saw him pull the key from his pocket.

“What’s that?” you asked, knowing full well what it was. You sat up straight in the chair.

Neal paused, turning his head as though he’d forgotten you were there. “Uh-” He lifted his foot- “nothing, Y/N.”

You shook your head, standing to your feet. “That’s the key to your anklet,” you said. “When the hell did you get that?”

Neal was quiet. He put the key to the anklet and slipped it off. “Look,” he said, putting it on the table, “it doesn’t matter. Just- stay here.”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you did. Your face was a picture of something between fury and disbelief as you took long strides until you were standing between him and the door.

“What are you doing, Neal?” you asked, and Neal gave your a look, clearly sighing through his nose. “Does Peter know?”

“Of course he doesn’t-” He shut his eyes for a brief moment and took a step forward. “Could you just-”

“No!”

“Y/N.”

“I said no!” Your hands were balled at your sides and your brother straightened, lips pressed tightly together. It wasn’t often you clashed. You were the best of friends. Peter often called you, including Mozzie, the three musketeers.

But when you clashed, you clashed.

“You can’t do this, Neal,” you told him, a harsh edge to your tone.

Neal didn’t have much of a temper, but it was rising by the second. “Do what, Y/N?” he asked.

“Risk your life! Again!”

“I’m not risking my life-”

“Yes, you are! You’re risking it all and you don’t realise you’re risking me, too!”

Neal was a little taken back by that. His eyebrows furrowed and he had no time to respond before you suddenly leapt towards the table and grabbed up the anklet. You also snatched the conveniently placed pair of scissors next to them, and held them up for him to see.

His frown deepened and his mouth dropped open the slightest bit.

“I’ll cut it,” you threatened, without him even saying a word. He was beginning to worry, and not because you were threatening to alert the FBI to his almost escape. “I’ll cut and then Peter will come here and you won’t be able to leave.”

Neal put both hands slowly up, watching as you tensed and drew the scissors closer to the anklet. He involuntarily rose both eyebrows and shook his head.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his tone hopefully a lot more calming than he was feeling. “Put the scissors down.” He was gentle, but for some reason you only grew more agitated.

“Go to hell, Neal!” you spat out. Your eyes were getting glassier by the second.

Neal’s confusion was etched so clearly on his face. No, he hadn’t thought you’d appreciate him stealing from Peter and managing to effortlessly get his anklet off, but he had not expected you to stand there like one of the clay statues he was working on, completely different to how you normally were.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he tried, “what’s this about?”

You swallowed, lifting an arm to wipe at your eyes. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You want to leave me!”

“Leave you? Y/N, I-” He licked his lips and shook his head, eyes flicking around the room in utter loss for what to do. Fowler was still on his mind as they moved swiftly past the clock on the wall, but only barely.

Another thing you knew about your brother was that he was quick. And so when the door behind you opened, and you snapped your head around to see Mozzie, you stupidly didn’t account for suddenly being tackled onto the ground, the anklet and scissors knocked easily from your hands, head cushioned by his own hands so it didn’t hit against the wooden floor when you fell back.

The wind was knocked from you for a moment, and you took a moment to breathe normally, but when you did, and you opened your previously tightly shut eyes to see Neal’s, your face hardened again and you struggled.

“Get off!” you yelled, and Neal slipped his hands from under your head, grabbing your forearms.

He glanced up. “Not now, Moz,” he said, and you heard the door shut before you were forced still.

“Enough!” Neal rarely rose his voice at you. You were his pride and joy, and you were a good girl, and the two of you got on like a house on fire (“that’ll probably be literally, one day,” Peter had remarked once) so he’d never had need of it. But you were acting almost psychotic, and he’d never seen you in such a way.

Fortunately, you ceased your struggling at his voice, so stern and loud you had no other choice. You squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel his hands tight around your wrists, your own hands balled into fists.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but you need to stop this.” There was still that edge to his tone, but he spoke lower this time. “What happened to talking, huh? Like normal people? We do not pick up sharp objects and threaten each other! What the hell, Y/N?”

He wasn’t angry. He was confused. Which was why, when your face scrunched up, and tears began leaking from your eyes, he sighed and let your arms go. A rattled breath ripped from your throat and he shook his head, dropping to lie beside you and gently grasping you to pull against him.

“Please don’t go,” you all but choked out, your balled hands tucked under your chin.

His hand automatically came to the back of your head, legs bent at the knees. “If Fowler killed Kate-”

“But you don’t know that!” You raised your head, staring down at your brother with red eyes, and Neal pressed his lips together, his hand dropping beside him. “He-” You sniffed, swallowing back further tears- “He could be innocent, and you would be risking everything on something that doesn’t matter. You’d be risking us on something that doesn’t matter.”

It clicked like the last puzzle piece, and he mentally called himself a fool a hundred times over. Of course he’d known you had grown into somewhat of the personification of super glue in the years he’d been in prison. He’d returned, and suddenly the little girl he’d raised and taught to pick pockets and stand and look cute while he slipped into a top security building had grown up, and you’d thrown out any inkling at all that you would become like him. He wasn’t complaining. He’d never complain. If anything, he was thrilled you were further from the criminal life than him. But you hadn’t been that far before he’d gone away, and it’d been something for him to get used to. He doubted he’d be so lucky sticking to the right path if he didn’t have you nearby, but it seemed at times you took your so-called job a little seriously.

Not that it was a job.

You just wanted a normal life with him.

How could he fault that?

He’d stolen from an FBI agent, escaped his tracking anklet, and murder was on his mind. You knew him, and so you knew that. No wonder you’d said all you had. He was a terrible influence, and everything he’d done and was thinking of doing could garner him more time in prison than either of you would’ve able to handle. You knew that. And you’d somehow deducted that, minus the hypothetical murder, perhaps alerting Peter to the fact Neal had broken free would save your brother some time. Time with you. Time he shouldn’t have been taking for granted.

“Y/N...” He brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, shifting. An imploring love melted into the blues of his eyes as you simply stared into them. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He pulled on your head and you rested it on his chest, silent save for the occasional quiet sigh.

“I just don’t want you to have to leave me again,” you muttered.

Neal nodded, closing his eyes. “I know. I don’t want to. I-” He grit his teeth and shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you’re not thirteen anymore.”

The corners of your lips lifted a little and she rubbed at your eyes. “I didn’t mean to pick up the scissors like that.”

“Thought I’d have to drop you off at a psychward,” Neal commented, claiming victory when you breathed a short laugh. It was a quick victory, however, when his face sobered a moment later and he stared aimlessly at the ceiling. He could just about hear the clock ticking behind him. Time was running short.

“I gotta do this, Y/N,” he said slowly. Quietly. His fingers rubbed circles on the back of your head. He wondered briefly if you’d grab the anklet and scissors again, but you stayed exactly where you were.

“I have to- to know if Fowler killed her. It’s the only way.”

You blinked before sniffing and sitting up. You turned to face him, crossing your legs, and absently bit at your lip.

“Then I’m coming with you,” you said.

Neal sat up. He had half a mind to say no and tell you you were to stay home, but he knew it’d likely send you off in another frenzy. Sighing barely audibly, he leaned forward and wiped at a tear track on your pink cheek.

“Okay,” he said resignedly.

“And never do it again.” You posed it as more of an innocent question, and you glanced down at your fidgeting hands after you said it.

Neal gazed at you. “C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll try, but you know me. Can’t make a promise like that.”

You shut your eyes against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You knew he couldn’t promise a thing like that. But it made you feel better to know he’d at least try.

“Uh, you guys done being sentimental?”

You glanced up as the door opened again and Mozzie stuck his head in. Neal turned slightly.

“Yeah, Moz,” he said. He pressed a kiss to your head and the both of you stood up. He looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You ready?”

You shrugged, sparing another glance at the anklet and scissors, and smiled back. “Not at all.”

#white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #neal x reader #mozzie #mozzie x reader #mozzie x neal #neal x mozzie #peter burke #peter burke x reader #peter burke x neal caffrey #neal caffrey x peter burke #peter x neal #neal x peter #sister reader #sister!reader #teen!reader #teen reader #mine

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of-house-atreides · 3 years ago

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This article is breaking my brain

Have you read this article ?

TW: mentions of suicide and also I’m an angry petty bitch

Yes I know this article is from like three weeks ago but I just found it... and I have things to say.

I swear I can’t handle this anymore...

“But today, Loki steps out of his brother’s shadow”... to step in another one. It be the TVA or Sylvie, just... take your pick.

“resuming his role as the God of Mischief” um where? when?

The comedy part is debatable but fine, whatever... I must have missed the noir crime-thriller bit maybe it was between two scenes of Loki getting his ass kicked by literally everyone in this show.

Yeah you forgot that end-credit scene showing Loki alive and well in IW/Endgame.

And no, alternate/variant Loki doesn’t count, he’s not the same person/character.

Because of course when you think of Loki you instantly think his story should take place in a “bureaucratic nightmare” -

And why not hire competent experienced people for Multiverse of Madness and Loki? Is this Marvel’s way of telling us they don’t really care about these projects?

Kevin really said “no experienced writers on this project, let’s just hire whoever” - or maybe it’s a budget thing? Less experience means less zeros on the pay checks?

Wow, ok.

So not a fan of the movies nor a fan of the character, just a fan of the genre, that explains a lot...

“what was really important to me was stripping away all the fantastical elements” ... ?? I’m sorry?? What?? So removing all the fantastical elements from a show titled after who is supposed to be the main character who is a GOD and a prince from another realm/planet was what was important?? The Trickster God of Mischief, magic wielder, master of illusions NEEDED to be stripped from his FANTASTICAL ELEMENTS???

ffs

“find the heart of this story” - is the heart of this story Loki becoming best friends with his (mental and physical) torturer after what? 2 days? Was it falling in love with the ‘superior’ version of himself after only 13 hours together? I’m still looking for the heart of this story.

“what is the relatable message at the center?” - well apparently it’s ‘you can be a God and a warrior with magical powers but still get your ass kicked by literally everyone all the time and never use your strength and skills to fight back’. Or it’s the power of love, idk -

Oh wait, is it falling in love with the female version of himself? For a weird ‘love yourself’ metaphor? That must be it.

Or maybe it’s jet skis.

Ah yes, the ‘you can be good, actually’ message of this series that is so subtly presented to us...

They really missed the whole fucking point of Loki.

They missed it so bad they made him call himself a narcissist (which he isn’t btw).

For the record, Loki is a prince of Asgard who learnt one day he was adopted and in fact taken from one of Asgard’s worst enemies, the King of the Jotuns, aka Frost Giants “the monsters parents tell their children about at night”. He found out he was not only adopted but also abducted and not out of love. He feels not only betrayed but he thinks he understands now why Odin always favoured Thor and why he’d never have the same love from Odin that Thor has had his whole life. He thinks of himself as a monster and wants to be worthy of Odin’s love. So he tries to get it. And sure, he doesn’t do it in the best way, and yes, he is the villain of that story. But Loki isn’t a villain. He doesn’t like to make people suffer, he did it out of pain, out of hurt. The events in Avengers was after he was thoroughly tortured and coerced by Thanos to invade Earth. There is even a moment in the end when Thor asks him if he thinks this ‘madness would stop under his rule’ (or something along those lines) and he looks unsure and regretful. But due to the fear of Thanos and insecurity about himself (love is weakness or whatever) he keeps going. He redeems himself in Dark World, again in Ragnarok and yet again in IW and he was thrown in the trash for it.

Yes, Loki’s story is complex, but it really isn’t that complex... So maybe Loki is a “scared little boy” but his way of acting out makes sense and there’s a legitimate reason for it that was not explored in the show. And his backstory is probably what she called the “bells and the whistles”...

“we literally delete his universe” - and apparently you deleted his personality too

“it’s a story of reinvention ... can Loki find goodness in himself?” - again, you’re missing the point. Loki is insecure, but not about his ability to do what’s right, but about whether or not he is worthy of love! Finding goodness within himself comes AFTER!

“Loki’s journey, to me, is really about acceptance of himself” - several questions here, um, first, what about himself does he need to accept? That he’s a Jotun? The show never mentions it. That he’s done bad shit and should forgive himself for it? Give him a reason to. Self-love doesn’t come after being mentally and physically tortured by some guy who acts like he’s your best friend after 2 days of working together and being yelled out that “he can be anyone he wants, even something good”.

Show, don’t tell, isn’t that the point of your job?? The job you begged for??

Loki’s journey should have been about self-love and no, falling in love with the female version of yourself (who keeps saying they have nothing in common (because they don’t!)) doesn’t count!

“a more mature and darker path” ...

well this is interesting... was making Loki a clown and the butt of every joke part of making the show mature and dark? Were the terrible attempts at humour? Him being beaten up every two seconds? Having him say lines he’d never say in a million years just to be funny but since it’s out of character for him it fails completely? Was making him incompetent and a complete idiot part of that attempt of making the show mature and dark?

Is that why there’s no magic? You cut off the magician so your show would be more “mature and dark”?

Having him cry every episode doesn’t make your show mature and dark.

Loki from Thor, Avengers, the Dark World and even IW is mature and dark. Your Loki from your series is just a pathetic clown.

“don’t give viewers the story they are expecting” - I personally wasn’t expecting any story, I just wanted Loki, you know, in this Loki series, supposedly all about Loki, and you guys couldn’t even do that.

So this is the author of the article speaking here, I’m guessing, and I think they’re giving a summary of the show so far, so let’s break this down:

“This is Loki as we’ve never seen him before” - I 100% agree -

“Stripped of his self-proclaimed majesty” - ok, first of all, Loki is a prince, that’s a fact, he didn’t make that up, and for the few years he was King of Asgard disguised as Odin, he seemingly did a great job, so...

“but with his ego still intact” - ah, yes, his ego, you know, because he’s such a narcissist... oh wait -

yes he has an ego, but he has a regal one, not misplaced entirely either - his ego in the show is basically him underestimating the TVA and Mobius (as well as the Time Keepers) - his ego is him getting offended by the variant: the ‘superior Loki’ - his ego in the show is used as a weapon to humiliate and belittle him.

“he faces consequences he never thought could happen to such a supreme being as himself” - he literally tried to k*ll himself in the first Thor - literally a result of his own actions - when he returned to Asgard in Dark World, he didn’t try to pretend he hadn’t fucked up. He didn’t try to hide what he had done (he tries to deny to Mobius in episode 2 that he was manipulating them at the fair) - he sacrifices himself in IW... but sure, Loki from the series is indeed surprised that he is powerless (even when he doesn’t need to/shouldn’t be)

“there is a lot of humour ... he is taken down a few pegs by the TVA” ... he is humiliated by the TVA - definitely not what we were expecting, I’ll give you that.

“sentenced to a lifetime of bureaucracy” - definitely did not expect that either

and here comes my favorite quote: “it’s a sad Loki without any mischief”

yes - yes - yes

that is a good summary of this goddamn show, a sad, pathetic, powerless Loki without any personality

“fallen God” - yeah that’s definitely not what I was expecting either from the Loki series so good job on subverting expectations I guess...

“who is going to win out in this match between them?”

there is no match - Loki is powerless - he’s been turned into a pathetic docile harmless wet dog - Mobius literally mentally (episode 1 and 4) and physically (episode 4) tortures him, both time in an attempt to have Loki do his bidding - Loki is the dog and Mobius is the master - even when Loki ‘tries’ to manipulate him it fails because he’s underestimating them (by overestimating himself) - he uses obvious techniques to manipulate the TVA (episode 2) and nobody buys it because it’s not subtle at all! Loki is smarter than that, he is a TRICKSTER GOD FFS!

“there is an interesting dynamic between them that maybe you haven’t seen with Loki in the Marvel movies” - yeah, maybe there’s a reason for that... like... he wouldn’t... submit so easily... he’d be wary, cautious, cunning... he’d be... himself...

Sans déconner ?

It’s like whoever wrote the series didn’t actually know shit about Loki... like that wasn’t fucking obvious...

And those lectures were apparently done after the script was written so... again, no surprise there... we can see that

Well...

“we wanted the show to be imbued with mischief” vs “sad Loki without any mischief” choose your fighter

“Loki has this very sensitive, damaged, broken heart with an enormous capacity to feel emotion on the biggest scale.”

Are surprised that only Tom so far has portrayed and talked about Loki accurately?

“loneliness, sadness, anger and grief and loss”

I love this man.

I do wonder what Mr. Branagh thinks of the show...

I’m of the people who see a vulnerability beneath those layers of charm and playfulness. I love Loki because he’s smart and cunning and regal, and elegant and sophisticated. I love him cause at the end of the day, he just wants to be loved, and he deserves to be loved.

And in the end, the only Loki I can’t stand is the one from the series.

#loki negativity #Loki #loki series #review #anti Loki

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leesh · 4 years ago

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because i have zero self control when it comes to christmas films and, well, cheesy christmas films are #life.

basically, i have developed a collection of favourites over the years, including both classic christmas films that are fun for the whole family and terrible, dripping with all our favourite favourite cliches hallmark christmas films, and yet i am still always on the hunt for more. so, i thought i would try a little thing to share them with everyone else as well (and actually remember them for future reference)!

check out the tag here i will try and remember to use as i live blog some of these movies or head on down below the cut to see all of the christmas films i’ve watched in 2020. thoughts and star ratings included! as expected, i will also be updating this as i watch more and more this holiday season (follow along on twitter too if you want).

note: since i LOVE terrible hallmark films, some that i give a higher rating will not actually be......critically acclaimed. i am just #obsessed and have my reasons as stated, i’m sure.

holidate (2020)

⭐️⭐️| first time watch | someone on letterboxd compared this movie to when you watch a rom com in sims and it’s just a bunch of random scenes that make no sense and they’re absolutely right. its only saviour is an australian dude and the line “so you know me well enough to cum in my mouth, but you don’t know me well enough to get me a christmas present?”

my christmas inn (2018)

⭐️⭐️| first time watch | i’ll be honest, this film was pretty forgetful. i watched it over a month ago and don’t really remember what happened. however, i do remember being impressed that the leading lady wasn’t a stereotypical thin white woman. so i guess at least it has that going for it.

christmas made to order (2018)

⭐️⭐️⭐️| first time watch | i actually thought this was pretty cute. it’s not the best, but also not the worst, so a decent medium if you need to fill up those figurative christmas stockings. the concept of hiring someone to decorate your entire house with no budget sounds pretty cool, but when the guy is aaron samuels and looks far from straight, it becomes a little questionable.

last christmas (2019)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️| rewatch | now this is not a cheesy hallmark film. in fact, i LOVE this film a lot and think i saw it twice at the cinema. last christmas is a top tier christmas song and i remember theorising about it when the trailer first came out, but i will say tissues may be a requirement to watch this. AND henry golding is my husband thank u and goodbye.

operation christmas drop (2020)

⭐️| first time watch | interesting concept in theory, but this is nothing more than US military propaganda and a cgi lizard. bonus: white saviourism.

the knight before christmas (2019)

⭐️⭐️⭐️| rewatch | a medieval knight transported into today’s world and has never seen a car before can drive better than me. that’s it. that’s the movie. also, he literally says the words “modern technology is lit af” at one point. solid christmas film if you ask me.

the princess switch (2018)

⭐️⭐️⭐️| rewatch | i strongly believe in the vhcncu (vanessa hudgens christmas netflix cinematic universe). i also have so many questions, like how did they afford the flights or solid conversation or was it all expenses paid? how did they finish a bulk of the cake without a mixer? why does everyone always speak english with a posh english accent even though it’s a non-english european country?

the princess switch: switched again (2020)

⭐️⭐️| if we learnt anything from a christmas prince, it’s that sequels are generally never better than their predecessor. that being said, this was much less cute body swapping christmas fluff and a little more literal kidnapping and saving the day. either way, blonde vanessa was hot and i appreciated the amber/richard cameo that insinuates a christmas prince is actually a dramatic documentary.

midnight at the magnolia (2020)

⭐️⭐️| now if you’re after an absolute cheesefest that ticks the boxes on best friends meets fake dating over the holidays, then this is the movie for you! albeit it takes place between christmas and new year’s, it’s still filled with their families knowing they were soulmates the whole time and two people who are a literal too comfortable on the radio. also, the dad’s totally should’ve been gay. they had more chemistry.

christmas wonderland (2018)

⭐️⭐️⭐️| tbh, i genuinely enjoyed this one. post breakup/high school sweethearts is a personal favourite trope of mine, so throw christmas & being forced to spend time together when she goes back home into the mix and i’ll have a serotonin explosion. bonus points for the guy telling the girl to go back to nyc to follow her dreams without being a dick. OH and the scene when he points a fuck load of sugar in his hot beverage.

a wish for christmas (2016)

⭐️⭐️| who doesn’t love a good office romance between a boss and an employee at christmastime? especially when you throw in a little christmas magic that makes her more confident that results in her finally getting what she deserves and having to travel and rekindle with his family? also, fuck them rich white dudes, but props to her for the significant job promotion.

christmas with a prince (2018)

⭐️| this was TERRIBLE and not in the good way. it featured: an entitled prince who suddenly had growth even though he did nothing to achieve it, majority of the film set in one hospital room, and the fact that she’s the only one with a tiara at the party filled with people who actually have titles. also, thought there was a decent ending but turns out there was still another 30 mins to go. ugh.

a royal christmas engagement (2020)

⭐️| don’t be fooled by the title. the engagement doesn’t happen til the last two minutes. it’s actually about a prince (bet you didn’t see that one coming) who travels to america, pretending to be his best friend who works for this major marketing firm because he’s tired of being the spare. this gets one star purely for the line “she’s not a commoner, patrick. she’s an american.”

christmas wedding planning (2017)

⭐️⭐️| it looked like it would be half decent, and while it’s definitely better than the last two, it was still pretty eh. i could get on board with her texting her dead mother’s number as a way to talk to her still, and i understand we all experience grief differently, but.....actively paying your mums phone bill 3 years later? girl. also, the end made me SCREAM. WHY DID THEY DO THAT!!!!

santa girl (2019)

⭐️| this was just painful to watch. evil jack frost makes memes in his free time, santa has a fancy car and doesn’t eat sweets, and there’s an odd comparison between the elves, minimum age workers, and racism. however, one star purely for the entertaining (read: bloody awful) tooth fairy cgi that gave me a right laugh.

the christmas chronicles (2018)

⭐️⭐️⭐️| this was really cute and had the makings of what could be a christmas movie staple along with the likes of elf and the santa clause (but will never reach that standard, obvs). tbh, it’s just a nice heartwarming family christmas movie about two siblings who band together to help santa and save christmas. also, santa was a #dilf.

the christmas chronicles: part two (2020)

⭐️⭐️| one of these days i would love to see a sequel that’s better, or at least on par, with its predecessor, but that day is not today. sadly, this film lacked all the heart and magic the first one was filled with and some scenes were pretty redundant. kurt russell and goldie hawn, however... one star for each of them.

forever christmas / mr. 365 (2019)

⭐️⭐️| the title varies depending where you’re from, but that’s probably the most exciting part of this movie. a guy celebrates christmas 365 days a year and a reality show wants to invade his house? ok, sure. one star for the eye candy and one star for, surprisingly enough, their chemistry and all the kissing scenes that don’t usually make the mark in the hallmark world.

noelle (2019)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️| did i renew disney plus just so i could watch this (and a couple of others)? maybe so... this movie is so fun! and family friendly! and is actually funny! it gives me major elf vibes, but if elf was set in a more modern day setting. either way, i had a great time and have been holding out on this one after loving it a lot last year!

the nutcracker and the four realms (2018)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️| anything nutcracker related is an instant win in my book because it’s my favourite ballet of all time (except for graeme murphy’s version, we don’t talk about that). does this movie actually deserve the four stars? maybe not. am i going to give them anyway purely for my love of the nutcracker and the soundtrack? absolutely!

#leeshmas2k20 #no one probably cares but i just thought it would be fun!#might actually post these on letterboxd too

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

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Sweet Pea//maybe that’s the most heartbreaking thing of all

Request: i requested this before but idk if it went through may I please request an imagine where the reader is Jug's little sister by a year and sweet pea goes out with her because of a dare but actually falls for her but she finds out and breaks up with him but he goes to her begging for forgiveness but she refused and ends up dating someone else but they break her heart and sweet pea is there and she is crying about not being good enough for anyone and he tells her how perfect she is how much he loves her and she forgives him admitting to still being in love with him and they get back together maybe it could be the first time they say they love each other

hey!! i hope you enjoy this! i struggled at the beginning to get in the flow of it but i got there! also. this goes right back to the beginning of imagine writing. its got all the abbreviations, so just in case you’ve forgot, or you’re new...here’s a quick guide:

y/f/c - your favourite colour

y/l/f/c - your least favourite colour

y/f/a - your favorite animal

Couples having their first date in Pop’s is nothing new. Its somewhat of a tradition in Riverdale, even more so after the drive-in closed down. Everybody either has or will have a date in Pop’s. With great food, cozy booths and neon lighting it makes the best backdrop to love.

And tonight was your turn to experience the magic of it.

Three days ago, Sweet Pea had approached you out of the blue while you were sat with your friends in the lunch hall.

At first you thought he was going to give you a not very nice message to pass on to your older brother. Despite Jughead being a year older than you, he often got involved in very childish rivalries. The main one being between him and the very tall serpent in front of you, and even though they’d kissed and made up by now, there was still always something bubbling under the surface.

But to your surprise and secret delight he’d asked you out on a date, and you of course said yes...probably too quickly. He then nodded towards your friends, all of which were trying and failing to hide a smile as they watched the interaction, before sending you a quick wink and leaving with a few of his friends.

Once you were sure he couldn’t see you anymore, you let the blush on your cheeks fully take over and a small squeal left your lips.

Tonight, you’d let out the same small squeak before you left your house. Saying a quick goodbye to your dad and Jughead, both of which suspicious as to why you were so happy and dressed up. You told them you were just going to see a movie with your friends and although you’re sure they hadn’t really bought it, to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were going on a date!

With Sweet Pea!!

There are so many girls that would quite literally kill to be you right now, and if it weren’t for your brother being serpent leader, they probably would have by now.

As you turn the corner into Pop’s parking lot, you can see Sweet Pea pacing just beside the steps. He’s on the phone to someone and a small smile appears on your face as you hear him laugh.

He doesn’t notice you’ve arrived until you’re tapping him on the shoulder making him jump a little. His laughter stops once he see’s you and your smile falters a little. He had been worried that you wouldn’t turn up. The only way his dare would count (and he’d get paid) was if you:

1. Actually turned up to the date

And

2. If the date lasted at least an hour.

He had one of those things, now he just had to get you to stay.

Easy.

His smile returns as he figures out the best way to get you as interested in him as he can.

“Wow.” He mutters as he looks you up and down. A blush appears on your cheeks making you look at the pavement. “You look amazing.” He adds and the blush grows. Smoothing out some invisible wrinkles in your outfit, you force yourself to look back up at him, but soon realize just how much of a mistake that was when you feel your knees go weak from the way he’s staring at you.

“Do you want to go in?” You change the subject and he nods, opening the door and letting you walk in first.

There’s an empty booth right at the back of the diner and the two of you rush towards it. He lets you sit down first before joining opposite you and you send him a shy smile.

“Sooooo.” He looks around awkwardly. “What are you getting?”

“I’m not sure.” You say while scanning the menu. “I don’t know whether to get my usual or try something new.”

“Try something new.” He replies quickly and you look at him a little surprised. “We both can. Its a special night after all.” He watches you decide what you want, a small smile on his lips as you read all the options out loud. But then he remembers what this is supposed to be.

A dare.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Easy money and a chance to piss off Jones.

His smile completely disappears as he tries to tell himself not to get caught up in you and you frown when you notice his expression.

“Are you okay?” You reach out to him and gently squeeze his hand. “We can go if you want?”

“No!” He says rather too loudly and you stare at him confused. “I mean. I’m fine. Have you decided what you wanted?”

“Yeah! I think I’m going to try this.” You lean over the table slightly, pointing at the food on his menu, but he’s not listening. Because the close proximity is doing something to him and if he breathes he can smell your perfume and its surrounding him, making him feel overwhelmed. “What about you?” You look up at him, your faces mere inches apart and you have to take a second to get your head to stop spinning before you sit back down properly.

“I-I think I’m going to decide on the way there.” He stutters a little while standing, grabbing both menus.

“I think they come and take your order if you’re sitting in.”

“Its fine. It might be done quicker if I go up and order.” He shakes his head.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Your tone is playful as he walks away, but it makes him anxious anyway. He needs to keep you here for another 55 minutes, and the fact that Fangs and a few other serpents are hiding in the other corner of Pops, spying very badly on the two of you, isn’t making him feel any better.

Once he orders he slowly makes his way back over to you. As he approaches he notices you texting, a soft smile on your face as you type and he has to push away the feelings of him being an awful person before he can sit opposite you again.

“Do you know how long its going to take?’ You ask, locking your phone once you notice him.

“About twenty minutes I think.” He replies.

“So, about the same time if you’d stayed?” You say teasingly and he rolls his eyes in reply.

“Whatever.” He huffs. He looks cute when he huffs. He always looks cute, but when he pouts like, you just want to kiss him. Woah...calm down. This is just the first date. Keep it in your pants Y/l/n.

“So. What do you want to talk about?” You change the subject before your thoughts become slightly less PG.

“I don’t know. What do people usually talk about on first dates?” He asks and slumps a little while you think.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Really?” He sends you a look, making a soft blush appear on your cheeks. “Thats what you came up with?”

“Hey. I have so many better questions but I thought I’d start off easy. So, are you going to answer or are you one of those people that ‘like all colours the same’?” You mock him and he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I’ll answer your question, but you’re not allowed to laugh. My favourite colour is yellow.” He mumbles the last part and your eyes widen in surprise. “I told you no laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.” You hold your hands up. “I’m just a little shocked. You do know yellow is a happy colour right? I don’t I’ve ever seen you wear anything brighter than dark blue.”

“Thats because you don’t have to wear your favourite colour.”

“I’m wearing my favourite colour.” You reply and motion to your outfit.

“So you like y/f/c?” He asks and you nod. “It suits you.” He adds making your cheeks heat up. Thankfully the corner you’re sat in is quite dark, so you’re hoping it covers up just how much you’re blushing. Frankly its embarrassing just how much he makes you blush. But then again, this is Sweet Pea. Thy boy you’ve been crushing on for years.

“Thanks.”

“So if we’re doing favourites. What’s your favourite animal?”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow and he looks at you offended. “And you complained when I asked about colours?”

“Animals are living things. A colour is just something you paint your walls.” He replies and you just stare at him for a few seconds, a completely bewildered look taking over your features.

“You have some very strong opinions.” You take a mental note not to ask about his favourite food because god knows what reaction you’ll get. “But my favourite animal is y/f/a.”

“Yeah. Thats a good choice.” He nods. “Mine is a dinosaur.”

“What?”

“My favourite animal is a dinosaur.”

“How old are you exactly? Because I could have sworn you were the same age as my brother.”

“Ha. Ha.” He replies sarcastically. “Dinosaurs are cool. They’re diverse. They’re old as hell-”

“They got taken out by an asteroid.”

“They look badass.” He glares at you. “There were some the same size as chickens. Can you imagine how cool it would be to have a dinosaur as a pet?”

“Again, taken out by an asteroid.”

“They also had two holes behind their eye sockets. And jaw muscles went through the holes to attach directly to the top of the skull. Which made the jaws able to open wide and clamp down with more force.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely?” You grimace, although there’s a smile threatening to appear and you have to force it away. “Its like you’re a walking national geographic channel.”

“Actually I learnt that from The Natural Museum website.”

“Sorry.” You tease. “Wherever you learnt it though, I’m very impressed.”

“I’m a lot smarter than what your brother might have told you. Speaking of, whats it like being related to Jones?”

“Not as bad as everybody makes out.” You shrug and he sends you a look. “Its not. Sometimes he can be a bit annoying, but all older brothers are.”

“Sure.” He replies. “Blink twice if you need help.” He says making you laugh.

“Here’s your food guys. I hope you enjoy.” Veronica smiles as she places the plates down. She sends you a wink before leaving you both alone.

“You’ve really never had a burger and fries before?” You raise an eyebrow at him while you sip your drink.

“What?”

“You said you were going to try something new.” You giggle and point to the food in front of him.

“Oh.” He looks down. “I er. I must have forgot.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? Because if you’re not we can leave.” He looks away from you, trying to find Fangs in the now very busy place. He finds him, eventually and he’s already looking at him, holding his phone up and shaking his head. He then checks the time on his phone and notices you’ve only been in here for less than half an hour making him sigh. “Sweet Pea?”

“Huh? What?” He looks back at you quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m er. I’m just tired. I’ve had a busy day.”

“Hey. I have a new favourite question.”

“Go on. Impress me.” He challenges.

“Whats your favourite memory?”

“A picnic when I was 8.” He answers almost instantly. “My mom was at work so my grandma was looking after me. It was only in the back garden but I had so much fun. She never had anyone really look after it so it was full of really tall weeds that I used to play in and pretend to cut down with a plastic sword. She let me pick a spot and we managed to flatten enough of it to lay a blanket out and she’d gotten all my favourite food. It was really nice. And when my mom came to pick me up we were still out there so she joined us and the three of us shared the last cookie while I told them both terrible kid jokes.”

“Thats really sweet.”

He shakes your comment off, smiling bashfully as he watches you eat. He’s never told anybody that. If he’s being honest he really didn’t want to tell you that, but there was something about the way you looked at him and the happy tone in your voice that made him crumble. The way you asked him, and then listened, a smile growing on your face the more he told you. It was the first time anybody has really, actually, genuinely wanted to hear about his life.

And that terrifies him. This isn’t supposed to be real. He isn’t supposed to feel real feelings. Its not real. He reminds himself.

“What about yours?” He asks, desperately wanting to get the attention away from him because he’s scared if you continue looking at him like this he’s going to tell you his entire life story and he’s never been that vulnerable with anybody before.

“Hmm.” You think about if for a few seconds. Your eyes sparkling as you go through every memory you have. “When I had my first kiss.” You chuckle at the memory and he looks at you confused.

“What?”

“Hear me out.” You laugh. “It was with Archie.”

“What!?”

“Yeah. And it was a dare.”

“What?” His blood runs cold. Is he really that obvious? Have you figured it out? Of course you have, you’re clever and funny and smart and pretty an-

“It wasn’t like that though.” You shake your head.

“Like what?”

“Like, I dare you to kiss her and I’ll give you $1 for it.” You explain.

Change kiss to date and $1 to $50 and its almost the same.

“I was 13 and he had just turned 14. He still hadn’t kissed anybody and he was worried. At the time I didn’t really know why, but when you look at all the girls he’s dated since, I can understand why he was worried. So I dared him to kiss me and he did.”

“What was it like?”

“Awful.” You laugh loudly and he feels himself relax again. “But at the same time it was nice. It was sweet. Plus, I always have that I was the first person to kiss Archie Andrews. When I’m feeling down about myself I like to tell myself that the reason he’s dated so many people is because he’s trying to find someone that can kiss as well as me.”

“You should never feel down about yourself.” He says sincerely, and there’s not enough darkness in the world that could hide your blush.

“What made it even better was that Jughead walked in on it and him and Archie almost got in a fight.”

“I would have payed to see that.” He laughs. “I still would to be honest.”

The two of you continue to eat, exchanging small conversation every so often. After you’ve both finished eating, he checks the time while you laugh at something he’s said, and notices that its almost been an hour and he’s happy that its nearly over.

But the other part of him is sad that it might be ending. So he ignores time and the real world, in favour of pretending with you. He doesn’t even come back to reality when Fangs and the rest of the serpents leave, subtly dropping money on his seat.

The next time either of you check the time is when Veronica comes over after a few hours and asks if you want anything else. Thats when you realize its almost 11, and that your dad is going to kill you.

“Oh shit.” You panic. “I’m supposed to be back at 11.”

“Fuck.” He stands up, quickly noticing the money and slipping it in his back pocket while you’re busy putting your jacket on. “Okay, I’ll pay and then I’ll give you a lift home.”

“Sweet Pea. I can pay for my own food.” You argue.

“I know you can. But I want to. And we have ten minutes to get you back home so you can’t afford to argue with me.” He replies and you roll your eyes but agree anyway.

“Fine.” You huff. “But I’m paying for the next one.” You add and he freezes. “Thats if you want another one I mean. No pressure.” You back track, while he just stares at you.

“I-er-”

“Here’s your bill.” Veronica hands you a receipt and Sweet Pea lets out a breath.

He pays quickly before leading you out into the dark parking lot.

“Here.” He hands you the helmet and you take it, carefully placing it on your head. The ride back home seems far too short for you’re liking and the next thing you know he’s walking you up the steps to the front door.

“You didn’t have to give me a lift you know?” You say. The two of you are stood on your porch. You’re sure if either your dad or Jughead look out the window they will definitely be able to see who you’re with and where you’ve been, but right now, you don’t care. You can deal with that later.

You’re just enjoying spending time with Sweet Pea. You’re also glad you didn’t die on the journey back. Riverdale may have strict driving laws, but Sweet Pea does not stick to them. However, if you did die, you would have died happy with your arms wrapped around his chest and a bright smile on your face.

“I know.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But, I’m going that way anyway soooo.”

“You’re such a gentlemen.” You tease and the two of you giggle lightly.

“What’s it like living in Coopers old house? Do the ghosts of her messed up family haunt the halls?” He asks and you roll your eyes, nudging him a little.

“No.” You deadpan. “Its weird. Especially if you’ve lived in a trailer for the majority of your life. And even weirder now that Betty and her mom live with us. But I wouldn’t say its bad. Its kind of nice to have some sort of normal...ish family for a change.”

“Your definition of normal and everybody else’s definition of normal are too very different things.”

“Shut up.” You punch his arm lightly and he feigns hurt.

“This was nice.” He says, now feeling more awkward than he ever has in his entire life.

“It was, yeah.” You nod.

All he has to do is say goodnight and leave. He’s completed a dare, he’s made some easy money and he’s had some great food. Plus it was nice to go to Pops with somebody other that Fangs.

“Night.” He gives you one last look before turning around and starting to walk down the steps.

“Sweet Pea?” You follow after him. “Tell me another dinosaur fact...please.”

“The word dinosaur comes from the Greek language and means ‘terrible lizard’.” You laugh and a soft smile comes to his face.

Your eyes flutter closed as you slowly move towards him. Kissing him nervously, he freezes for the second time in one night. However he doesn’t stay like that for long, his arms wrap around your waist as he kisses you back.

Never has Sweet Pea been kissed like that before. So gently and like kissing him any harder would break him.

But now he has a problem.

Because he liked it.

And he definitely wants to do it again.

“Goodnight Sweet Pea.” You kiss his cheek before jogging up the steps and through the front door.

What the hell is he supposed to do now?

----

Sweet Pea has been trying so hard to avoid you. No matter how hard his heart protests.

It was one date, for a dare. Thats what he keeps telling himself.

But deep down he knows that it wasn’t just that. He had a genuinely nice time with you.

You’re sweet, pretty and kind. And despite the fact that you’re related to Jones, he knows there’s so much more to learn about you.

“Hey!” Your smile is bright, and he can’t help the smile that appears on his face as he watches you sit beside him. Despite the fact that his heart is racing, either due to the fright you gave him, or the mere presence of you, he manages to reply.

“Hi.” He mumbles, finding anything but you to look at. Only now has he realised how bland the walls are in the school cafeteria. Who paints a school cream? Cream is the worst colour in history. “What’s your least favourite colour?”

“What?” You laugh.

“Well we talked about your favourite colour the other day. What’s your least favourite colour?”

“Err.” You think for a moment before scrunching your nose up. “Y/l/f/c. Yours?”

“Cream.”

“Wow. You were very quick to reply. What’s cream ever done to you?”

“Made everything boring.” He replies making you laugh and shake your head.

“I was wondering.” You take a glance at your friends who are all giggling and whispering to each other while they watch you, which surprisingly doesn’t do much for your confidence. But you fight through it and decide to just get straight to the point. “Do you want to go out again?”

His eyes widen a little as he searches the room for Fangs or literally anybody. He’d even settle for Jughead coming over. Just anybody to get him out of this because he know’s he’s going to say something stupid like...

“Yes.” dammit. His mouth moved before his brain even had time to comprehend what he was saying and now he hates himself, and more importantly Fangs for being late. What the hell where all the serpents even doing?

“Great!” Your face lights up and his entire body sinks. “I’ll see you tonight at Pops again? At 7 maybe?”

“Ye-yeah.” He nods. “That sounds great.”

“Great!” You repeat and you seem even happier than before. “By the way, you do know there’s a serpent meeting going on right?”

“Shit.” thank god. he can get out of here now.

He somehow seems to be digging an even bigger hole for himself and now he has no idea how he’s going to get out of it. Definitely not with the help from any of his friends.

----

The second date you and Sweet Pea had, was definitely different from the first.

You’d met at Pop’s. But as soon as he saw Fangs sat by the window he decided that maybe going in there wasn’t the best option.

Thankfully you didn’t notice the sudden change of heart, so didn’t think it was too strange when he suddenly shouted about going to see a movie.

And to his surprise. He actually enjoyed himself. Well, he knew he was going to enjoy himself anyway. But it was better than he could of imagined, despite the slight crushing feeling in his chest.

Plus he got to kiss you again!

After the movie you walked around town for a little bit and talked about life and dreams and more favourite things...no matter how much he complained about that part.

So maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. I mean, yeah, it started out bad. But plenty of good things come from bad experiences. He can’t think of any every time he tries, but he’s sure there is some and thats good enough for him.

Plus, its not like he’s going to tell you about the dare. He likes you and he doesn’t want to hurt you. And he can’t imagine the rest of the serpents mentioning anything. Weirder and crazier dares are done by them everyday, this is ancient history by now.

So a week after your first date, he decides that he’s going to make his first proper move. He’s ready. He’s only really known you a week but he knows your special. And you’re definitely worth putting up with Jughead for. He just needs a milkshake first to collect his thoughts.

Once he walks through the doors of Pop’s he’s hit with two things.

One. How empty it is. Its Friday night, he should have to fight to get through the amount of people in the place. But there’s barely anybody here and he has to try and remember if he heard of any parties happening tonight. There’s none that he can think of, but it might be a last minute thing. Yeah, its probably a last minute thing.

The second thing he notices is you, sitting in the corner again and his breath hitches as the sight of you. But then he see’s you crying and his heart aches.

“Whats wrong?” He asks, sitting beside you as quickly as he can. As soon as he sits down his arms are around you, pulling you close.

A part of him is scared that you’ve found out and that all of this is going to be over before its even began. But when you cuddle further into him he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relief flooding every part of him.

“Its nothing.” You shake your head. “Its not important.”

“Clearly it is.” He says and slowly pulls you away from him so he can look at you properly. How do you manage to still look cute despite crying? “Come on. You can tell me.”

“I just feel a little left out.” You sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“Just, when we were younger me and Jughead were really close. But now it feels like he’d rather hang out with anybody but me. And that really sucks you know? I know we can’t do everything together, he has a life, I have a life. But I just feel like I never see him again. Plus, all my friends have gone to a stupid party and they didn’t invite me.”

“I understand.” He says, your eyes meeting his making you feel a little breathless. “And it does suck. But just because you don’t spend all of your time together, doesn’t mean he loves you any less. I mean, he almost fought Archie for you.”

“That was years ago.” Your roll your eyes.

“And I’m sure he’d still do it now.” He replies. “He’d probably lose, but still. Its the thought that counts.”

“Hey.” You shove his arm. “Thats my brother.”

“I know. And everyday I feel sorry for you.” He says sincerely.

“And as for your friends? Idiots. Because that party is going to suck without you.” He reassures you.

“Thanks for making me feel better.” You kiss his cheek softly before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Well, thats what boyfriends are for.” He replies, eyes widening once he realizes what he’s said. This was not how he was going to ask you.

“Boyfriend?”

“I er-”

“I’d like that.” You smile. “I’d like it a lot.”

“Yeah?” He looks down at you.

“Yeah.” You agree before kissing him sweetly. “At least now there’s one person who’ll never forget about me.”

There’s something about that sentence that doesn’t make him feel right for a few seconds, and he can’t help wonder if he did the right thing.

----

“Just a few more steps.” You say while looking over his shoulder. You didn’t think guiding a giant into your back garden would be this difficult, however you’re now regretting not giving something to use as a blindfold. He’s practically dragging you along behind him and you’ve never met a clumsier boy. “Mind that stone.” You say but he’s already stumbled over it and you roll your eyes at him, despite the fact he can’t see you. “Okay. Stop.” You say and he stops walking abruptly. You groan as you bump into his back making him chuckle. “Ass.” You mumble and shove him a little.

You move your hands away from his eyes and he gasps as he looks around.

“Whats this?” The two of you look at the blanket and basket sat between the surprisingly long weeds that surround you and slight blush dusts your cheeks as you kick your foot about.

“A picnic.” You reply, moving to stand in front of him. “Do you like it?” You look at him hopefully and he nods quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Hey!” You hear Jughead bang on his bedroom window and the two of you pull away, flipping him off as you do.

“I remembered the story about your grandma and thought I’d do something like it.” You explain while sitting down. “I even made sure my nobody moved the lawn for a few weeks to get the desired weeds.” You explain making him smile. “And I got your favourite.” You pull food from the basket and hand it to him making his smile grow.

“You’re just the best.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I know.” You mumble. “And, I have even upgraded the whole favourite series of questions, because I know how much you hate them.”

“I love you.” You know he’s only joking. He knows he’s only joking. But the sentence takes the two of you by surprise and you quickly scramble to think of something else to talk about.

“Whats the best thing you’ve ever done?” You ask and take a bite of a strawberry.

“This.” He laughs as he watches some of the juice dribble down your chin. “Here.” He wipes it away and you smile at him thankfully, despite the reddening of your cheeks.

“What about you?” He asks, stealing a bit of chocolate from you and you glare at him playfully.

“This.” You nod.

“Whats the worse thing you’ve ever done?”

this. “Probably the time I convinced one of my friends that he didn’t exist.”

“What? How did you even do that?” He looks down embarrassed and you can’t help but admire the cute little bashful smile on his face as stares at the blanket beneath the two of you.

“I got all of our friends in on it so it wasn’t just my fault. But I made him believe that I was the only one that could see him. When we’d hang out just us I’d be normal, but if all our other friends were with us, we’d all pretend he was invisible. One day I convinced our entire class to do it and he ended up crying so hard his mom had to come and pick him up.”

“Holy shit.” You whisper. “Thats awful.”

“Yeahhhh. I know.” He shakes his head.

“But I suppose I still love you.” You add and he looks at you quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You nod. Both of you know the ‘i love you’s’ were silly. Far too soon to be saying, but even if they weren’t real, they made you feel something you’ve never felt before. And you’re excited for when they do have meaning behind them.

“What about you?”

“Who said that?” You tease and he shoves you playfully causing you too fall backwards. Your about to sit up again, when he appears beside you and so you decide to stay. Who needs to see the world when you can just look at him.

He moves to lie on his side, his head resting on his hand while he looks down at you. His free hand caresses your cheek and a soft breeze flows makes a piece of his hair fall in front of face. You move it gently and the next thing you know he’s leaning down to kiss you. Its so full of love and happiness that it makes you a little dizzy, so when he pulls away you’re glad you’re already lying down. Especially because your legs would not have been able to keep you stood up.

“I once called my mom a bitch when I was 10.”

“Ouch. What did she do to deserve that?”

“Not cut the crusts off my sand-which.” You mumble making him snort. “That was so cute.” You tease and pinch his cheeks.

“Nope.” He moves out the way. “You can’t change the subject after you told me you called Gladys Jones a bitch. How are you still alive?”

“Believe me, I was very close to death.”

“What saved you?”

“The fact that I needed to go to school. I didn’t come home until about 8 that night. She was so worried that something had happened to me that she kind of forgot about the whole name calling thing.”

“I don’t believe you could ever be that mean.” He kisses your nose.

“I can prove it if you want.”

“Yes please. I’ve very excited to see this.”

You think for a moment. What’s the meanest thing you could say to him?

“Ass.” really? growing up with gladys and fp as your parents and thats all you’ve got?

“I have a good one? Thank you.”

“You really are unbelievable.”

The first time you say this to him its said playfully, to annoy him with a soft smile on your face. The next time you say it, there’s nothing sweet or happy about it. Its said angrily, with tears running down your face instead of the smile that he’s grown to love.

However, at this minute, you have no idea what coming. You don’t know that all of this is going to end in tears and heartbreak. And maybe that’s the most heartbreaking thing of all.

----

“Please. Just let me explain.” Sweet Pea pleads.

His trailer has never felt so small, despite the distance you’ve put between the two of you. You’re looking at him like he’s a stranger and he’s never felt so horrible in his life.

You’d only gone on his phone to find a specific picture of the two of you. But when he’d gotten a text from Fangs asking if he’d let you down gently yet, you’d actually found a whole group chat title ‘dares’, the biggest one being your entire relationship with him.

“I was just a dare. A stupid, idiotic dare?”

“Yes.” He nods. “It was stupid and idiotic and I’m really sorry.” He walks towards you but you back away, closer to the door and he really doesn’t want you to leave. He’s gotten so used to you being around the past six months he doesn’t know how to cope when you’re not with him.

“Our entire relationship was a dare?”

“No, no. Just the first date. The rest of it was real.”

“Oh, so that makes it alright then if it was just the first date? What the hell Sweet Pea. Why would you do that?”

“I really don’t know.” He shakes his head.

“I think that makes it even worse. Even if your excuse was just about getting back at Jughead, I think that would make me feel a little better because hey, its not just me. You didn’t just see me and think ‘she’d make a good target for a dare. she’s liked me for ages so she’ll obviously say yes’. But you just did it because? Because of what? You were bored?”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” You cross your arms. “Did you also make a bet? Are people betting on how long we’ll be together?”

“No, of course not.” He argues.

“So you’ve made no money from this?” You ask and he goes silent, looking at the floor.

“You’re really are unbelievable Sweet Pea.” You sigh, grabbing your jacket from the sofa and storming out.

How the hell did he not see that coming?

----

*three months later*

“Jones? I know you said never to come round here again but there’s a problem with a few of the serpen-oh hey Y/n.” Sweet Pea has only been in the Cooper/Jones’ house a handful of time, practically all of them because of something bad, but this is by far the worst.

He’s never seen you like this, and he never wants to again.

And the worst thing about it is that he’s the reason. He’s why you’re sat in the dark with a blanket wrapped around you and tears streaming down your face.

“Whats wrong?” He takes a few careful steps towards you, completely forgetting the reason he came round in the first place. His only focus is you. He needs to make this right. This may be the only chance he has seeing as though Jughead is doing everything to keep the two of you apart.

He did manage to get you alone one time, but it was only for a few minutes and they were the second worst few minutes of his life, the first being when you broke up with him. He’d tried to say sorry, to explain it. But you’d just told him to leave you alone and that you were seeing somebody knew.

He wonders if they’re the reason you’re so sad. He isn’t sure if that would make him feel better or worse to be honest.

“Y/n?” You continue to ignore him so he decides to just sit beside you. He makes sure he isn’t too close to you, no matter how much he wants to wrap his arms around you and tell you everything is okay.

“Go away Sweet Pea.” You mumble and his heart cracks.

“No.” He argues and sits back a little. He hears you huff in reply and wrap yourself further in your blanket.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Before you could sit together for hours without speaking, and be in total bliss just enjoying each other’s company. But as each minute drags on you find it harder and harder to breathe.

“I thought I finally had everything figured out.” You eventually whisper and he sits forward, placing a careful hand on your shoulder. He’s expecting you to shrug him off, but you don’t and he’s almost certain you relax a little.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. I thought I finally had everything figured out.” You glare at him and he gulps a little.

He doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just sits and lets you talk.

“And now everything has gone to shit.”

“It hasn-”

“I loved you Sweet Pea! I actually loved you.” You stand up and the sudden movement startles him. “The first boy I’ve ever loved, I was just some stupid dare to. And then when I try to move on. When I think that maybe I should try and forget about you and the way you made me feel...both good and bad. The next boy I end up with dates me for a few weeks and then breaks up with because I wasn’t what he was looking for. What the hell does that even mean?”

“Y/-”

“Is it me? It must be me. There must be something wrong with me. Or maybe I’m just not good enough for anyone. Maybe thats it. Maybe I’m going to go through life dating a string of disastrous boys who just use me to find something else. I don’t want that. I want love. I want all the stupid stuff you see on TV. Is that so hard?”

“Y/n?”

“Why?” You drop back onto the sofa, utterly defeated and all he wants to do is go back in time. If only he’d never agreed to that stupid dare. You would still be happy and sweet and not totally broken. “Why would you do this to anybody? Why would you take their heart and smash it like its nothing?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He replies and for the first time in three months you actually agree with what he’s saying. “And so is that other boy.” He adds. “You are far too good for this world Jones, and you deserve somebody that loves you and treats you the way you deserve. And I haven’t done that, even though I should have. I never should have agreed to that stupid dare, but I thought nobody would get that hurt from it, but I’m definitely an idiot. I’m really sorry Y/n.” He rambles while you sob beside him. He pulls you into a tight hug, stroking your hair softly as he tries to find the right words to say. But there’s only one thing he can say. “I love you Y/n.”

“What?” You pull away and look up at him.

“I love you.” He repeats. More sure of this than he ever has been of anything. “You’re perfect. And I love you.”

You so desperately want to tell him to leave. To go away and to never talk to you again. To never think of you for as long as he lives because he hurt you, more than you’ve ever been hurt before.

But you love him.

Despite everything. Despite the fact that he is an ass.

So instead you say something probably very stupid, but it feels right.

“I love you too.”

And this time it has meaning behind it.

Something you’ve been waiting a while for.

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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capitainedoulios · 5 years ago

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Vatt'ghern Sidh (aka it’s my bd and wanted to give something back)

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Geralt learnt from a young age than Witchers couldn't become knights, and elves even less so. There was nothing chivalrous about killing monsters and remaining in the shadows of humanity, nothing courageous about following the role set upon himself. He would walk the Path until he couldn't, be the one standing between humans and non-humans while ostracised from both.

Over the years he grew accustomed to the Witchers' reputation. He stopped trying to correct the rumours and defend himself when someone shouted at him or used physical violence. No good came from it, so he ignored it, and when he couldn’t, he left. He preferred the blessed quietness of the forest rather than the hateful stares of ignorant peasants.

He didn't understand why Jaskier wanted to follow him. The heroism and romance he proclaimed in his songs were elaborated fantasies. His work was harsh and brutal and a constant reminder of how gruesome and merciless the world could be. Geralt didn't want that for the boy. The baby fat had yet to melt from his face but still he already sought adventure and stories to tell to a crowd despising their kind. That was why he kept pushing him away, despite the odd fluttering in his chest whenever the bard did something idiotic, which was fairly often.

It came as a surprise to meet another elf living through humans like he belonged there, blinding bright colours screaming at anyone who dared say anything. It came to no surprise that he started fighting whoever dared to spew insults about Witchers in his presence, despite Geralt’s numerous attempts at letting it go.

Geralt should’ve have known someone persistent like he was would succeed in getting under his skin, sooner or later. Years went by with him at his side, his everpresent humming softening his edges until he found a way to his heart.

“Bitter is the wind tonight, it tosses the ocean’s white hair.” The bard was strumming his lute by the fire. “I long for the… eh, that’s no good.” He scratched the line in his notebook, his fingers stained with spilled ink. “Geralt, what does hair rhyme with?”

“Air,” came Geralt’s gruff reply as he continued cleaning his sword from crusted blood. The silver blade gleamed in the moonlight.

“Really? Could you try any less to be helpful?”

“Your quest for rhymes doesn’t seem to ever end. I’m not a literate like you are, so I can also offer care. Not that I do.”

Jaskier sputtered, mouth opened, but had nothing to say. Instead he pouted and put down his lute in its case. “Keep telling yourself that if it reassures you in your strong Witcher impersonation, darling,” he mumbled to himself, not caring Geralt could still hear him.

He hid his small smile by discarding his sword to instead grab some oil he used on his scars when they pulled and were irritated.

“Solitaire,” he piped in as he pulled his sleeve up to expose his forearm. He recently had used it to block and it had awakened old injuries. “Despair.”

“Are you going to throw every rhyme at me?”

“Share.”

Jaskier snorted and came closer to take the vial from him, sitting between his spread legs like he belonged there. Geralt’s heart sputtered, heat spreading under his breastbone. Jaskier accessed the scar and the dry skin around it, dragged a gentle hand on it. Geralt held his breath, his other hand clasping his knee not to touch.

“Stare,” he whispered. Jaskier looked up, his blue eyes obscured.

“Go on, proclaimed illiterate,” he said, his voice lower than usual; intimate. He put a few drops of oil on his fingers to warm it up before spreading it on Geralt’s forearm, starting to massage it in.

“Unfair.”

“Unaware.”

“Jaskier, I…” He followed the urge to press his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the hollow of his throat where a nest of chest hair peeked from his chemise. “I do care.”

Jaskier smiled and dropped a kiss on the scar. “I know.”

It was the natural course of things to pull the bard to him and kiss him until they’re both panting, clutching to each other. Geralt smiles and nuzzles his cheek. He basks in the feeling of his warm body pressed against his, his arms curled around his waist. He smells of the sun.

Jaskier splayed his hands up his back, hummed. “I don’t think I want it to rhyme. Rhymes can be boring.”

Geralt laughed and kissed him again, relishing the taste of his mouth and his sweet quiet moans. The bard pulled away and he chased him with a groan, wanting more, but he gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“Geralt, does your oil have magical healing properties?”

He looked down at his arm. The pain was gone, because there was no more scar. He touched it, to make sure it wasn’t an illusion. “It doesn’t. I’ve had that scar since before I met you, I don’t… What have you done?”

“Me? I rubbed your skin with the oil and that was it. I did hear from a few people I have magical fingers, but I doubt that’s what they meant.”

Geralt grabbed and pushed the vial in his hands. “Do it again. Here.” He pushed the collar of his black shirt aside to expose a thick, hypertrophic scar. Jaskier sighed but repeated the same gestures. After a few minutes of staring at it, nothing happened.

“I don’t understand. Perhaps it was another potion, or a mix of two?” Jaskier started supplying, when Geralt grabbed his arm.

Oh.

“You kissed it,” Geralt realised with a pang. He’d heard of this, a long time ago, a silly tale of soulmates soothing each other’s pain with their love, but thought it was just another fairytale meant to the romantics of this world. Not for witchers, never for them.

Jaskier was older than he was, had been a bard for most of his life, and with the way he’d grown still, such tales were shared among the poets’ social circle.

He bent and kissed the scar, his lips hot on his skin, and Geralt had to refrain a shudder. If this was real, it meant Jaskier was… He couldn’t fathom the thought, but this could explain how he couldn’t deny him anything.

Jaskier softly gasped. “It’s disappearing,” he exclaimed. “It’s completely gone, Geralt.” He hugged him, leaning heavily into him. Geralt returned the embrace and they stayed like that for a long moment, the realisation sinking in.

“I need to kiss you as well,” Geralt finally said. “I believe you have a scar on your hip?”

“Mm, I do. Oh.” Geralt fell to his knees before him and stared up at him through his lashes. His hair trailed on the ground but he hardly cared about it at the moment.

“May I?” He asked, pressing his nose into his stomach to smell him.

“Of course.” Jaskier stroked his long white hair and teased his long ears, flicking the ends in a way that managed to be tender.

Geralt lifted his shirt, his fingers seeking the knitted skin. He could still remember how Jaskier got it, a contract that had turned to be much more dangerous and resulted in Jaskier distracting an enraged spectre. The injury was serious but elves were tenacious and resilient, as history proved it. Now nothing remained but a silver line running down his flank to his hipbone. He pressed delicate kisses along it, encouraged by Jaskier’s reaction. The bard’s heart was thundering loudly. He trailed towards his belly button, loving the feel of the soft hair there.

“So?” Jaskier gulped. “Is it gone?”

“Mm? Oh yes.” He slid his hands up his chest to his pectorals to thumb his nipples, the waft of Jaskier’s arousal filling his nostrils. “Completely gone.”

“That’s good. I suppose I have a lot of work ahead of me then. I’ll have to kiss almost every inch of you. A real hardship that will be.”

Geralt unlaced his trousers. “I’ll be all yours once I’m done with you, love.”

The only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye.

Ko-Fi | Writing Commissions

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #elf geralt #elf jaskier #non-human jaskier #soulmate au #my writing #my art

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alonely-dreamer · 5 years ago

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Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 14: Into the Wolf’s Mouth

Summary: Mackenzie Alemaund is an unlucky 18 year old teenager whose life changes drastically after she gets kidnapped by two vampires and learns, in the same day, that she is not human.

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 4073

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there, besides I couldn’t have it edited! I hope you’ll like it!

Masterlist

Looking in the mirror, Mackenzie wasn’t sure what she was seeing anymore. Certainly not the girl she was when she met Elijah, and not the girl she was when she left Mystic Falls with Katherine almost two months ago. She couldn’t decide if her life were better now that her best friends were vampires or if she missed the days when she was afraid to breathe near her abusive stepfather. Maybe it was Katherine’s confident attitude that was rubbing off on her, but she felt empowered, stronger and more determined than ever. Of course, practicing her magic helped too. It was easy to feel powerful when a simple look could set anything on fire.

For the two months they had been together, Mackenzie and Katherine had only fought once. Mackenzie had been focusing on the element of fire in her training in the previous two weeks when she came across a passage in one of her ancestors’ journals warning about the side effects. Elementals of fire were known for their anger issues of supernatural proportion. Mackenzie had understood then where her sudden hot-tempered attitude had come from. And why Katherine had insisted she practiced fire first.

“Did you know?!” she had asked, loudly enough to wake up the entire hotel.

“Maybe,” Katherine only shrugged, without an ounce of regret.

The argument had lasted two days. Mackenzie went on about how she didn’t like being manipulated but moved on when she realized that “We’re going after Klaus. I need you to be on your game if he catches us. A little confidence could save your life. And mine.” would be the only thing close to an apology she’d ever get from the vampire. Afterwards, Mackenzie had decided to focus on other elements. She decided she didn’t like the person she was when she had fire in her veins. She didn’t like the thoughts she had when she was angry.

Mackenzie had learnt a lot about Katherine in the past few weeks, and she understood very quickly how the vampire had managed to survive the last five centuries. She compelled her way to everything. Food, clothes, cars, hotel rooms… She always found clever ways to get what she wanted. And what she wanted the most in this world was her freedom. And Klaus dead.

On the morning of June 22, Katherine still had blood on her lips when she came back into their rooms with a smile on her face. She saw Mackenzie hadn’t moved from where she was when she left an hour before. The vampire grinned an evil smile as she took a step.

“Happy birthday!” Katherine said loud enough to wake up all the other rooms in the four stories hotel as she opened the curtains, letting the sunlight invade the room. Mackenzie groaned unhappily, waved her hand and the curtains were closed again.

“What time is it?” Mackenzie asked, bringing the bed cover over her head.

“Almost 9. You wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t spent all night practicing your magic,” Katherine said as she sat on the elemental’s bed, turning the pages of one of Mackenzie’s ancient journals.

“I need to practice. I want to be able to defend myself.”

“Well, at least you can defend yourself against sunlight,” she pushed herself off the bed and opened the curtains again. “But not from me. Get up. I got a present for you,” she sang the last part happily.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Mackenzie sighed as she sat up on the bed.

“It’s your birthday! Why aren’t you in a good mood?”

“Um, let’s see. I dropped from high school a month before graduation, my only friend is lying dead in a coffin somewhere, I’m one of the last elementals on this planet, I’m going after the oldest psycho vampire in the world with no plan whatsoever… what should I be happy about, exactly?”

“Your only friend?” Katherine gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “I’m offended,” she joked.

“Fine. One of my only two friends is lying dead in a coffin somewhere.”

Katherine grinned. “Get up. We’re leaving today.”

“Where are we going?”

“That is a surprise,” Katherine teased.

“Is that my birthday gift?”

“It’s part of your birthday gift,” she winked before locking herself in the bathroom.

Mackenzie sighed as she pushed the bed cover away from her. She picked up the journals and grimoires from the floor and put them back inside her bag. She had left the chest in a storage room near Mystic Falls before leaving town. She couldn’t take the risk of losing it while traveling the country so she only took grimoires and journals she could read and use to practice her magic and make herself stronger.

“Are you ready for the rest of your gift?” Katherine asked as she exited the bathroom.

“Did you find Klaus?” Mackenzie asked, because that’s all she really wanted.

“Yes. Well… kind of. I know what he’s been up to.”

“What?”

“Ever since the curse was lifted Klaus has been looking for werewolves to turn. Unfortunately for him, and for the werewolves, that didn’t go so well.”

“What do you mean?”

“They all died. He can’t make hybrids. He’s pissed and he wants answers.”

“That’s… my gift?”

“No. That’s my gift,” Katherine said with a smirk as she handed her a postcard.

“A postcard from… Chicago?”

“That’s where Klaus is going. And that’s our next stop.”

“What’s in Chicago?”

“A witch. He’ll ask her why his hybrids are dying.”

“What does she know about it?”

“She’s a witch. Witches don’t know anything, they usually ask the spirits for answers.”

“So… we go to Chicago and… we get Elijah back while Klaus is busy getting his answers.”

“Wow there cowgirl, slow down! It’s not gonna be that easy. You think Klaus leaves his siblings unprotected?”

“I think between you and me, whoever’s guarding the coffins doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Well look at you. I’d be proud if being overly confident wasn’t the best way to get yourself killed,” Katherine said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We’ve been waiting for a chance to get close for weeks! This is the best opportunity we got so far!”

“Look, you wanna get yourself killed? I won’t stop you. But you won’t be useful to Elijah if you’re dead.”

Mackenzie clenched her jaw, took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Katherine was right. It was a terrible plan.

“Sorry… It’s the fire in me,” she said, and she meant it literally, “I need to slow down.”

“Always remember this, Mack: ask questions first, shoot later. Unless your life depends on it then shoot first and ask questions later.”

Mackenzie frowned. “Thanks for the advice, that clarifies so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

***

It took them the entire day to get to Chicago, following the Original hybrid by a couple of hours. Mackenzie never asked Katherine how she knew what she knew but she figured that’s where she went early in the morning. She always came back with new information, and blood on her shirt. After 500 years of running, Mackenzie figured Katherine had made a few friends along the way.

The next morning was different though, because Katherine never came back. Mackenzie was getting worried as the clock struck noon and still no sign of the immortal doppelganger. Around 2, Mackenzie was getting tired of waiting, and she was worried. She decided to do a locator spell but as she was looking for a personal object in Katherine’s belongings, she found an opened notepad with an address written in red on it. A Chicago address for a place just around the corner.

It took less than half an hour for the elemental to get there. She was pretty sure that’s where she’d found Katherine as the lock of the apartment’s front door was broken. When she stepped inside, she came face to face with whom she thought was her friend.

“Kat! What are you doing? I was worried sick!”

But Katherine didn’t respond. Instead, she frowned and the surprised and confused look on her face told Mackenzie that the girl standing in the kitchen in front of her wasn’t Katherine Pierce.

“Mackenzie?” Elena breathed out. “What are you doing here? We thought you were dead!”

“Why would you think that?” Mackenzie frowned. “And what are you doing here?”

“Did you say Kat? As in Katherine?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for her. What is this place?”

“What are you doing with Katherine?”

“Trying to help Elijah,” Mackenzie said as if it were obvious. “Why are you here?”

“Damon brought me here. It used to be Stefan’s apartment.”

Well that would explain why Katherine had the address. Mackenzie was about to reply when a shiver ran down her spine. Uh-oh.

“Klaus is here,” she breathed out.

“What?”

“You need to leave, now!”

“I can’t, he’ll see me!”

“Then hide!”

“What about you?”

“I… I’ll be fine just go!”

Elena hesitated but eventually stepped out of the kitchen and entered what Mackenzie guessed was the bedroom.

Think, think, think. Mackenzie could have locked the door, even set the building on fire but that wouldn’t have helped anybody. Her best shot was to distract Klaus to save Elena. With a little luck, he wouldn’t kill her. With a little luck.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she heard Klaus say with delight.

Mackenzie slowly turned around and faced a smiling Klaus and a frowning Stefan.

“Mackenzie, is it?” Klaus asked. She swallowed then nodded. “Now, that is a complete surprise,” he chuckled. “What are you doing here? Or, how did you find us, shall I ask.”

Mackenzie’s heart started beating harder. Her breath was uneven as she tried to find an answer. “Damon,” she lied.

“Ah. Your brother’s still looking for you, is he?” he told Stefan. “Looks like he hasn’t learnt his lesson yet.”

“You didn’t come here for me,” Stefan said, “you came for Elijah.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “That’s right,” he said as if he had just remembered who she was. “Fancy my brother, do you?”

“What?” Mackenzie shook her head. “I…”

“Relax,” the hybrid laughed, “I appreciate your loyalty to my brother, and your bravery. But you know what people say, there’s a fine line between bravery…” Klaus whispered as he took a step towards the elemental, “and stupidity.”

He gave her one of his terrifying smiles before he slid his nose down her neck. Mackenzie froze as she heard Klaus breathe in her scent. Katherine had just given her blood the day before so he shouldn’t be able to tell what she really was. But still, he was terrifying. Then, after what seemed like hours, Klaus sighed.

“Well, I can’t kill you now,” he said with what might have been disappointment in his voice, “Elijah’s not gonna be happy I daggered him, I can’t make him angrier by killing his girlfriend, can I?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Mackenzie had the courage to say with a weak voice. She then realized how stupid it was to tell Klaus he had no real reason to keep her alive.

Klaus laughed. “So. Where is Damon?”

“I don’t know. He left me here.”

“That wasn’t very smart of him, was it?” Klaus mocked. “Now, now. I can’t have you mess around my business. And if I can’t kill you then… I guess I’m gonna have to keep a close eye on you,” he grinned. “Besides, Rebekah could use a friend. She’s only been dead for 90 years, after all. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your company.”

“You want to give her to your sister?” Stefan raised an eyebrow.

“Rebekah will be angry when she wakes up. Anything to calm her down is fine by me. Go on now. Gloria will be waiting for us.”

“Who’s Gloria?” she asked.

“A witch and a friend of mine who’s helping me figure out why I can’t make hybrids.”

That wasn’t good. If Klaus turned to that witch for help it meant that she was powerful. Very powerful. And witches weren’t Mackenzie’s friends. Stay away from those bitches, Katherine had told her. This could go wrong in so many ways. The witch could tell Klaus she was an elemental, in which case he’d kill her, or the witch could just kill her herself. Either way, Mackenzie doubted she’d ever see Katherine or Elijah again.

***

Gloria, if she knew of Mackenzie’s true nature, hadn’t said a thing. Klaus and Stefan had been drinking for over an hour at the witch’s bar, waiting for Rebekah, whom Mackenzie had learnt was Klaus’ sister who had been lying in a casket since the 1920’s.

The vampires seemed to have forgotten of the girl’s presence as they kept talking about that time, 90 year ago, when they knew each other. Mackenzie didn’t know what to think as she heard of Stefan and Klaus being best friends and Stefan being in love with Klaus’ sister.

“You compelled me to forget,” Stefan said as he realized why he couldn’t remember any of it.

“It was time for Rebekah and I to move on,” Klaus explained. “Better to have a clean slate.”

“But why? You shouldn’t have to cover your tracks. Unless you’re running from someone.”

“Story time’s over.”

Stefan didn’t insist. “I need another drink,” he said. “A real one.” Klaus dismissed him before he poured himself another drink.

Mackenzie was too afraid to open her mouth. She was happy enough that Klaus acted like she wasn’t sitting right next to him. Unfortunately, the evening was about to take a dark turn and Mackenzie knew it wasn’t going to end well when Damon came to sit at the bar, a stool away from the Original hybrid.

“I see they’ve opened the doors to the riffraff now,” Klaus said, not bothering to look at him.

“Oh, honey, I’ve been called worse,” Damon replied which made Klaus chuckle.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“Give me my brother back and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I am torn. You see, I promised Stefan I wouldn’t let you die but how many freebies did I really sign up for? And clearly you want to die otherwise you wouldn’t be here, so…”

“What can I say? I’m a thrill seeker,” Damon grinned.

Klaus smiled back for a couple of seconds before jumping from his seat. The sudden movement startled Mackenzie. The Original seized the vampire by the throat and started poking around his chest with a toothpick from the bar.

“I’m a little boozy, so you’ll forgive me if I miss your heart the first few tries.”

Mackenzie was frozen on her seat, torn between asking the vampire to stop or stopping him herself. It wouldn’t require much magic, she could set the toothpick on fire, which was easy enough, but then she’d have to neutralize Klaus which would certainly piss him off but also reveal her true powers, which she had no intention of doing.

“Klaus! Klaus stop!” she begged. She didn’t really know why, she wasn’t particularly fond of Damon, in fact she really didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean she wanted him dead.

Klaus’ only answer was a laugh. “Stop? Why would I do that?”

“You want a partner in crime?” Damon managed to say despite Klaus’ hand on his throat. “Forget Stefan. I’m so much more fun.”

Klaus tilted his head as if he were thinking about it but then threw Damon over a table.

“You won’t be any fun after you’re dead,” he said as he broke a chair and made a stake out of it.

“Klaus!” Mackenzie shouted as he was about to stab the eldest Salvatore in the heart.

But as soon as she said his name, the stake caught on fire, and Mackenzie was sure she hadn’t done it. Klaus let go of it with a growl.

“Really?”

“Not in my bar.” Gloria said. “You take it outside.”

Klaus sighed. “You don’t have to negotiate your brother’s freedom,” he told Damon. “When I’m done with him, he won’t wanna go back.” He stepped away from him, gesturing him to leave.

Damon got up with a groan. He sighed before he took the direction of the exit.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Klaus asked.

Damon turned away and gave him a confused look. Klaus pointed a finger at Mackenzie. Damon frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

Klaus laughed, raising his eyebrows at her. “Now that’s interesting.” Mackenzie looked away. “You can go now,” he told Damon. “And don’t come back.”

***

When Stefan came back a couple of minutes after Damon had gone, Klaus still hadn’t asked Mackenzie to tell him the truth, which she found weird, but ultimately wouldn’t complain about. She followed them, not that she had any choice, to a big storage room where an empty open coffin was waiting for them. She looked around, wondering where Elijah’s coffin was.

Klaus turned around to look at the room and saw one of his man lying dead on the floor.

“Rebekah,” he called. “It’s your big brother. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Almost instantly, a blonde young woman dressed in a white dress from the 20’s, launched herself at Klaus and stabbed him in the heart with a silver dagger.

“Go to hell, Nik,” she snarled.

Klaus gasped out of pain but was left unharmed by the attack. He removed the dagger from his chest and let it fall to the floor.

“Don’t pout, you knew it wouldn’t kill me.”

“No, but I was hoping it would hurt more,” she said as she walked away from him.

Mackenzie stepped back, only for her back to meet Stefan’s chest. She looked up at him, and she could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to help her, no matter what happened. She was on her own. She thanked Katherine for all the training sessions from the past two months. She had a feeling she was going to have to put them to use very soon.

“I understand that you’re upset with me, Rebekah,” Klaus followed her and she stopped when he placed a hand on her shoulder, “so I’m gonna let that go, just this once.”

She gave him an unsatisfied look.

“I brought you a little peace offering,” he said before he pointed at Stefan.

Mackenzie could see the surprise on the blonde’s face. Her anger faded away as a smile appeared on her face.

“Stefan?”

Mackenzie looked up at the vampire and could see he didn’t remember the blonde at all. She moved away as Klaus stepped towards them. She watched as the hybrid put a hand on the vampire’s shoulder and compelled him to remember before stepping away.

Stefan was confused for a short moment but then his eyes fell on Klaus’ sister and a genuine happy smile formed on his face.

“Rebekah,” he breathed out. He started walking slowly towards her but stopped when Klaus softly called his name. He turned around and frowned as he now recognized him too. “I remember you. We were friends.”

“We are friends,” Klaus corrected him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “And now, the reason you’re here,” he told his sister, “Gloria tells me you know how to contact the Original witch.”

“’The Original witch’?” Rebekah repeated like it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

“What do you have that Gloria needs?”

Rebekah brought a hand to her neck but was surprised to find nothing there.

“Where’s my necklace?” she asked. “What did you do with it? I never take it off!”

“Tell me that’s not what she needs.”

“We need to find it!”

“Tell me that’s not what she needs!” Klaus growled, his anger only growing.

“We need to find it now! I want it back!” Rebekah shouted.

“Tell me that’s not what she needs, Rebekah!” Klaus yelled so loud it made Mackenzie jump.

Rebekah turned to her coffin and looked inside then destroyed it when she found nothing there.

Klaus was so furious Mackenzie started to fear for her own life. After all, Klaus was known to kill people when things didn’t go his way. She looked up at Stefan who had a weird look on his face. Mackenzie thought she saw guilt, or maybe worry.

“It’s fine,” Klaus said as he took a deep breath, “it’s fine. Gloria will find it.”

“She better!” Rebekah threatened. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at Mackenzie. The elemental swallowed, it didn’t seem like a good moment for her to become the center of their attention.

“That, dear sister, is Mackenzie.”

“What is she doing here?”

“She came for Elijah, isn’t that right, Mackenzie?”

Mackenzie’s eyes moved from Klaus to his sister then to Klaus again. She was too scared to speak, certain that the wrong word would be a death sentence. She nodded.

“Where is Elijah?” Rebekah asked.

“In his coffin.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes, disappointed, but not surprised. “Then why is she here?”

“She’s stubborn this one,” Klaus said as he walked towards Mackenzie and put his arm around her shoulders. Mackenzie felt like her heart had stopped beating. “She won’t let Elijah go.”

“But you’re not gonna wake him up. So why is she here?” she asked again, getting annoyed.

“I found her snooping around earlier today, I thought she could keep you company. After all, if she can be friends with Elijah, she can be friends with you.”

“You kidnapped me a friend?” Rebekah asked with a frown.

“You’re welcome. Just keep an eye on her, will you? She’s a powerful witch and I’m not ready to face Elijah just yet.”

Rebekah let out an amused laugh. “She doesn’t look like a powerful witch,” she mocked.

“Well she’s a little inexperienced but she was smart enough to find me here so I’m not taking any chances.”

Rebekah didn’t answer. She looked Mackenzie up and down which made the elemental feel not only like she was taking her final breaths, but also a bit self-conscious. It took everything she had in her not to step back and to keep her chin up, when Rebekah made her way to her. A little self-confidence could save your life.

“So, you’re Elijah’s girlfriend?” she asked, doubt clear on her face.

“No,” Mackenzie said in a whisper, unable to speak any louder, “we’re just friends.”

“You don’t follow Niklaus around for just a ‘friend’. Unless you have a death wish.”

Klaus laughed. Mackenzie could see Rebekah was waiting for an answer. What could she tell her? She had no good reason to be here except for the truth. As pathetic as it could be.

“I don’t have anyone but Elijah. Without him…,” she paused, and Rebekah raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue, “I’m all alone. He saved my life once. I wanted to do the same for him.”

Rebekah didn’t move her eyes from the girl’s face, studying her, thinking about what she had just heard. After a moment of silence, Rebekah nodded and stepped back.

“I like you. We shall be friends.”

***

Damon was in his living room, pouring himself a glass of alcohol with a hand, his phone in the other.

“Okay, you were right. He was there.”

“I’m always right,” Katherine said through the phone. “Let me guess. It ended in tears and heartbreak.”

“Where are you?”

“Why? Do you wanna come rub sunscreen on my back?”

“I’m thinking Europe. Italy maybe. Or Spain. You were always a sucker for those lazy afternoons.”

He expected her to keep lying but instead was met with silence.

“You’re still here?”

“Was she there?” she asked with a serious tone he wasn’t used to hearing from her.

“Who?” he frowned, confused.

“Mackenzie. Did you see her?”

Damon laughed as he realized. “Mackenzie, of course! I was wondering what she was doing with him. But she wasn’t there with him. She was there with you.”

“So you saw her?”

“Yeah, I saw her.”

“Was she okay?”

“Well she didn’t look happy to be there but her heart was still beating when I left, if that’s what you’re asking. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Goodbye, Damon.”

The vampire didn’t have time to say goodbye as she hung up on him. He threw his phone on the couch and sat down on an armchair near the fireplace.

What was he going to do now?

**********

Thank you for reading!

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hvproductions · 5 years ago

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DEVIL WITHIN [THE ORDER]

Belgrave University was supposed to be Rebecca’s fresh start. It was supposed to be her chance to escape her controlling parents, her lying ex-boyfriend, her extremely eventful past. The promised fresh start turned quickly into a nightmare as she learns that not everything is as it seems in Belgrave. the order [season 1 -?] hamish duke x oc

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5: CREATURES OF THE NIGHT

I had no idea when I had managed to fall asleep, nor that I would even fall asleep while being in some random house. After Randall and his companions finished their explanations of their society and the backstory of it Cassie and I had settled on the couch with the intention of waiting for Jack – and getting the hell out of there as soon as he came back, if he was even was planning of doing so. Cassie was the first to close her eyes, her head resting on my shoulder. At least one of the members of the Knights was present with us in the room, never daring to leave us alone. Randall had tried his best to strike up a conversation with us, but neither I nor Cassie said one word to neither him nor the others, simply staring daggers at them.

It occurred to me that I had fallen asleep when I opened my eyes to Jack’s loud yelling. Night had turned into a morning as I gently shook Cassie in order to wake her up. After a minute she finally opened her eyes, looking around in surprise when yesterday’s events came back to her. We bolted up from the couch, seeing Jack standing around, practically naked with only a robe covering him. He seemed confused even more than we did, but relaxed when his eyes landed on us.

The three figures blocked us in our way to Jack, and without any remorse I bumped into Randall in order to make him move out of our way. He seemed genuinely regretful about keeping a secret from us; I had to remind to myself that I would not forgive the boy so easily. I had already forgotten my wrath towards Jack and was now solemnly angry with Randall.

“Get your shit and let’s go, Jack.” I ordered him, throwing him his clothes that were practically ripped apart. I could care less about the state of his clothes; leaving was the solemn thought in my mind as I remembered that I had a class in two hours I needed to get to. Besides, I had no desire to spend any necessary minute in the house of werewolves.

“She sure swears a lot, doesn’t she?” Hamish commented, more to Randall and Lilith to anyone else. “My kind of gal.” The girl commented back as I could simply send a glare to both of them, ready to drag Jack out of the house myself if necessary, Cassie right next to me.

I was about to do so when Jack suddenly threw up parts of a deer as far as I could determine. It took me every ounce in my body not to threw up myself; it was obvious looking over to my roommate she tried her best not to do so herself.

“Yeah, you ate a deer last night.” Randall casually said, not bothering to comment on our dumb-folded faces. We could simply stare at Jack as he tried his best to stay calm, even when the trio started telling him a werewolf named Silverback – who, apparently, chose him as his champion, whatever the hell it meant. As it turned out, it didn’t take a full moon to make them turn; and a silver bullet would hurt them a lot which was a piece of extremely useful information.

Jack suddenly stormed past us, not bothering to even put his clothes on. Cassie and I instantly followed him, trying our best to keep up with him; the boy was running off like crazy, and as much as we tried he was too fast for us. Because of that I and my roommate ended up in the middle of the woods with no idea how to get back to the university.

“Do you have the same impression that we should unfriend Jack, like, right now?”

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

The next couple of days had passed as quickly as a shooting star. I was fully focused on my studies, steering clear of both Jack and Randall. The latter hadn’t given up on apologizing, forcing to admit his defeat every time he did so since I quickly shut him down. Jack, however, was too busy hanging out with his new friends that he didn’t have any time for me or Cassie. Not that I minded it though; getting caught in the supernatural was definitely what I had in mind when I thought of a fresh start.

The words in front of me were blurred together as I tried my best to understand at least something of what I was reading. I cursed myself for letting my mother talk me into taking a French class for advanced students. Just because I had learnt it for two years in high school didn’t mean I was advanced in it. I barely understood anything I read, no matter how hard I stared at the pages. With a groan I decided to sip on my drink instead. Why study when I could get drunk instead, and focus on language of love in four hours or so?

My peace was – unfortunately for me – cut short when Cassie came running over to me. She sat down against me, stealing a French fry from my plate before popping it into my mouth.

“Hello to you too.” I said, rolling my eyes and taking yet another sip from the drink.

“Jack’s doing some fucking voodoo magic shit.”

Cassie whispered, leaning closer to me before resting back on her chair. I followed her eyes and saw him sitting behind a table with some of his society buddies. I had been so focused on my own stuff that I hadn’t even noticed him; my eyes travelled around the bar and not too far from him I saw Randall along with Hamish and Lilith, their eyes focused on both Jack as well as us. When Randall noticed us he sent us a wave which I returned with a fake smile before focusing back on Cassie and her claim of voodoo magic.

“What did he do then?” I asked just for the sake to keep the conversation going; I still had to admit I was curious as to what Jack was up to.

“He drew some symbol onto a paper and paid the waitress with that. She just accepted it as if it was a one hundred dollar bill.” Cassie explained, cautiously looking around the room so that no one would hear her. My eyes looked over to the boy in an instant; he was laughing with his new friends as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if he didn’t turn into a werewolf and eat a deer a couple of nights ago.

“Doesn’t sound like voodoo to me.” I explained to the girl sitting opposite me. Cassie didn’t even have a chance to reply when Randall along with Hamish and Lilith appeared at our table.

“Move.” The dark-haired werewolf basically commanded, forcing me to scoot over to the other side of the couch. Randall and Hamish forced Cassie to do the same, and now I was literally stuck and unable to exit.

“Are you stalking us or something?” I questioned, throwing a glare to Randall who looked over apologetically. Hamish and Lilith didn’t share his concern though; I didn’t have to know them to know apologizing was the last thing on their mind.

“Is Jack doing magic?” Lilith questioned, the question not meant for anyone specific. I shared a glance with Cassie; neither of us knew whether we should tell them about Jack being in The Order. Yet the fact that Lilith even asked that meant that Randall hadn’t told them – it was obvious there was a reason behind that.

“Do we look like his babysitters? How the hell should we know what he does?” I answered annoyingly. Looking over to Lilith she stared at me as if she wanted to rip my head off right there; I sent her a smile before my attention averted back to my drink I hadn’t still managed to finish due to the many interruptions by others.

“Yeah, I should have told you this earlier, but Jack’s in The Order of the Hermetic Rose.” Randall explained hesitantly. “Which is good, because that means we have an inside man.” He continued before anyone had an opportunity to reply.

“We’re gonna kill him.” Lilith blurted out as if it wasn’t a big deal and a daily occurrence for her; which, to be honest, wouldn’t surprise me not one bit. Cassie’s eyes widened in surprise at her claim – the girl looked like she wanted to bolt out of the room in any second.

“You’re not killing my friend.” I said more forcefully that I meant. “Doesn’t look like he is your friend.” Hamish instantly commented, making me roll my eyes at him.

“He might be a shitty friend, but he’s still my friend.” I added to which Cassie nodded. Everyone turned quiet after that; not one of us when what to say to each other. I was about to literally force my way out of the booth before Randall stopped me by practically yelling: “The two of you can help us! You’ll be like the honorary members of the Knights of Saint Christopher!”

“Absolutely fucking not.”