#doesn’t help that his brothers and sister find amusement in their height differences

[archivistofnerddom]

Bad Batch flash forward where we see an adult Omega . . . who is 6’ even.

And Hunter can’t deal with the fact that he’s the shortest one in the family. Again. He had spent years in denial about the possibility that Omega could be taller than him. When she does get that extra inch on him, he turns into the saltiest clone in existence.

The rest of the Batch enjoy his misfortune way more than he does.

[partum-memoriae-muses]

Name: Ryan Simmons

Series: Fandomless

Faceclaim: Rayne from Neo Angelique Abyss

Age: 23

Height: 5'10"

Birthday: December 8th

Birthplace: Florida, United States

Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: Human

Occupation: Restaurant waiter

Father: Ronald Simmons

Mother: Annabeth Simmons

Sibling(s): Aubrey, Abby and Amy

Bio:

TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE AND DRUG ABUSE

Ryan is the oldest of four children and the only son of the family. His parents were extremely neglect towards him and his siblings, but he refused to step up and be a parent for them. Instead, he decided to run off a lot and do his own thing (that being playing at the arcade or getting drunk at the bar). Not like he had a good example to follow as his parents were extremely abusive towards each other but soon worked things out (apparently) after turning to drugs when Ryan was in high school. Ryan didn’t really care about what his parents were doing, he chose to just run away from it all especially when he came home one day to find needles scattered all across the floor.

While Ryan likes to feel like his abusive parents didn’t effect him, it did. He doesn’t believe in committing to a relationship and no matter how well a relationship goes, Ryan would ALWAYS cheat on a girl right as things start to get serious. Perhaps he fears that getting serious with someone will result in him turning out exactly like his parents, they do say the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree after all. Even needles seem to make him feel panicked, but he continues to deny that he was ever affected by the horrible actions of his parents.

He’s also quite the asshole as well. He bullied one boy, by the name of Jasper, so horribly that he and some other guys were cruel enough to stab a glass bottle at his face. It was so bad that Jasper had gone permenently blind in one eye. He didn’t really believe it, how could jamming a broken bottle by someone’s eye really cause them to go blind? It wasn’t that he bullied Jasper to make himself feel better or jealous, because he didn’t know anything about Jasper, but he bullied because that’s what he grew up seeing. He always saw his parents beat each other down that he almost thought it was normal to be that way with other people. Though he does have boundaries, he doesn’t hit women. Perhaps it’s this idea to only cause fights with other men is why he often would come home from the bar with bruises all over his body. It doesn’t help his words are rather harsh too, often insulting people or purposefully triggering them just for his own amusement.

Ryan also doesn’t get along with his younger sister, Aubrey either. He doesn’t really get along with any of his sisters, perhaps he feels a sense of hatred to look after anyone else besides himself. Since he didn’t want to help Aubrey get their sisters out of that abusive and drug-filled home, Ryan moved out at nineteen and currently lives in a apartment quite a while away from his sisters. The further away he is from his sisters, the better in his eyes. Though the one sister he hates the most is Aubrey as the two have vastly different world views and Ryan sees his sister as pathetic for being an escort for money despite the fact that it's his fault for completely abandoning her and refusing to help her or their sisters in any way at all. To him, Aubrey is no better than a street walker, being quite a despicable person.

One could only hope that Ryan would someday see the errors of his ways and be the older brother that his sisters need but likely not. Ryan doesn't quite cheat on women anymore after a while, but he never finds himself never getting attatched like a womanizer. The only reason Ryan ever stopped cheating on women was because one of them had taken their anger out on him so far that it was finally a wake up call. He never truly did quite learn to grow up and be a responsible person others can rely on.

Ryan can mostly be easy going, constantly hitting on women to the point of harassment sometimes, but his biggest flaw is his big mouth and irresponsible behavior. He will genuinely insult someone to get a rise out of them. If he managed to get a woman pregnant? He would likely run for it, as cruel as that is. It would have to take someone who's ready to give him a wake up call multiple times for him to grow up and learn to be a person others can rely on for emotional support and to be a real adult.

[bellakitse]

The 'B' Word

“I’m crazy about you,” TK blurts out, stepping out of his hold to pace. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t see it coming. You were just supposed to be this cool guy I had good chemistry and good sex with, someone I would be friends with and share a bed with on occasion."

+

Carlos and TK run into Carlos’ three sisters on the street and decide to have dinner with them. Over the course of the meal, their friends with benefits relationship changes.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 1: Romance/“You are the only one for me.”/Fluff

Carlos holds the door for TK to walk through, trying to keep his grin at bay in the face of TK’s epic pout. He’d suggested a night of putt-putt, thinking it would be a friendly and easygoing activity they could enjoy as they try to put more emphasis on the friends part of their unconventional relationship. It was supposed to be a casual night out. However, Carlos didn’t anticipate that TK would be horrible at the game or be such a lovable sore loser.

“You cheated,” TK accuses him, the scowl on his handsome face cuter than it has any right to be. Carlos swallows back a sigh at the thought. It’s moments like this that show him how truly head over heels he is for the man before him.

He pushes that thought down too.

TK has made it more than clear he’s not ready for more than what they are right now – friends who enjoy each other’s company in and out of the bedroom.

He tells himself how he always does when these thoughts start to creep in that it’s enough for now. He gets to spend time with TK; he gets to touch him, hear the soft sounds he makes when they’re together, he gets his smiles.

So what if they don’t have a label?

Having some parts of TK Strand, Carlos has quickly learned, is infinitely better than not having him at all.

“At putt-putt?” he questions with an amused grin pushing away his less than pleasant thoughts. “You think I cheated at putt-putt?”

“Yes,” TK shoots back, his expression set in a childish frown, causing Carlos’ grin to grow.

“How exactly?” he questions, outright smirking when TK stalls, his pout growing as he can’t come up with anything.

“You distracted me with your you-ness,” TK finally answers, waving a hand in his direction as if it explains everything.

Carlos feels his face go warm, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling incredibly smug too. He reaches out, slipping a finger through one of the loops of TK’s jeans, pleased when TK comes into his space easily, his arms going around Carlos’ neck as he holds him close.

“That’s an interesting way to say you think I’m hot, sweetheart,” he murmurs teasingly as he presses his nose against TK’s temple.

“You already know I think that,” TK scoffs at him, turning his head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his tongue peeking out in a tiny teasing lick. “Don’t pretend now.”

Carlos lets out a steadying breath as his body instantly reacts to TK’s goading. “I still like to hear it,” he answers with a playful pout of his own, happy when it makes TK chuckle.

TK brings his hands down, cupping Carlos’ face between them, using the leverage to close the tiny height difference between them as he brushes his lips against his. “Needy,” he whispers, the word spoken against Carlos’ mouth causing him to let out a moan, proving TK’s point.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispers back, his hands giving TK’s hips a suggestive squeeze.

TK laughs softly as he shakes his head. “You promised me dinner.”

“I’ll make us something when we get there,” he promises now, groaning when TK shakes his head again.

“You and I both know – if we get behind closed doors, we’re not eating anything but each other, Reyes,” TK tells him, smirking shamelessly when he gasps at his words. “I want real food first.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, willing down the blush on his face and the arousal coursing through him at the mental image TK’s words have provoked.

TK goes to take a step away from him, ready to start walking on their quest to find some food, but Carlos holds on to him, grinning back at him when it makes TK raise a brow in question. He doesn’t answer with words; instead, he cups TK’s face like he’d done to him, swallowing the small gasp he lets out with his lips.

He kisses TK thoroughly, taking his time as he feels TK’s body go lax against his, kissing him back lazily, pressing his tongue against the back of Carlos’ teeth in a way that makes his toes curl from the butterflies he feels in his stomach.

Carlos could get lost in the act of kissing TK Strand and often does, like now, which is probably why he doesn’t realize people have walked up to them until there is a loud and obvious clearing of someone’s throat startling the two of them.

“What – “ TK starts to say, sounding dazed, and Carlos would take a moment to be proud of that if it wasn’t for the horror he’s experiencing in the face of his three older sisters standing before them, grinning like deranged clowns.

“Well, well, well,” Lola starts, like the rabble-rouser she is, her grin looking painful from how big it is. “Look who we have here being all indecent in public? Isn’t there laws against practically having sex in public spaces, Officer Reyes?”

“Would he have to arrest himself?” Valentina asks ironically – the oldest but by no means the most mature – piling on with a smirk of her own.

Sofía, the second oldest and usually the quietest, smiles softly at him, almost sympathetic if it wasn’t for the laughing glint in her eyes. “How much do you wish the ground would swallow you up right now, manito?”

“Very much so,” he grits out with a tight smile as their enjoyment of the situation grows. He feels TK’s body shift next to him a second before his hand touches Carlos’, linking their pinkies together. He turns his head, surprised at the gesture, and finds TK looking a little lost but supportive of him. It loosens something in his stomach, and as TK gives him a half-smile, Carlos is helpless but to return it. “TK, these are my sisters, Valentina, Sofía, and Lola,” he says, pointing at each of them in turn, getting a wave back from all three. “Girls, this is TK,” he continues, not adding anything else though he can see the curiosity in his sisters’ eyes. “Anyway, we were going to go grab a bite to eat, so – “

“What a coincidence, so are we!” Lola exclaims happily, her brown eyes twinkling, and Carlos shakes his head, already seeing where she’s going with this.

“We should all get a bite together,” Valetina continues, and Carlos has to stifle the groan that is dying to come out at the tag-teaming happening before him.

“We barely get to see you, hermanito,” Sofía adds on with a sad face that fools no one.

“We saw each other two weeks ago at Mami’s for Sunday lunch,” he points out, rolling his eyes when the three of them shrug their shoulders in unison.

“Way too long, bro,” Lola answers, getting a nod from their other two sisters. “And we’re obviously not sharing enough if none of us knew you have a boyfri – “

“Okay!” Carlos interrupts before she can finish the dreaded ‘B’ word. The last thing he needs is his meddling sisters spooking TK with that title. He looks at him with an apologetic look on his face, hoping he understands. “Do you mind if they join us?”

TK looks at him for a moment and then at his sisters, a sly grin making its way onto his face that fills Carlos with dread. “That depends,” he starts, raising an eyebrow at the girls. “How many ‘baby Carlos’ stories can I get out of this meal?”

Carlos lets out that groan he’s been holding back as his older sisters all smile at TK like he’s a new shiny toy.

Being the boldest one of his sisters, Lola steps towards TK, slipping her arm through his. “All the stories you want, my dude. Let’s start with the one where Carlos would play Selena’s ‘bidi bidi bom bom’ on repeat and do her spins in the living room until one time he almost threw up on the carpet from twirling so much,” she recounts, throwing a grin at him over her shoulder as she and TK start walking ahead.

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, opening them again when he hears snickering at his side. He glares at Valentina and Sofía and their matching grins.

“We better catch up to them before she tells him that you can’t get through a single Disney or Pixar movie without crying like a baby, and that’s why you don’t watch them in the theater anymore,” Valentina warns him, laughing at him when his eyes widen.

He doesn’t move for a moment, letting them pass before him. TK throws a look back at him, half-worried but also gleeful as Lola says God only knows what in his ear, and Carlos can’t help the mixture of apprehension and tentative joy he feels at his worlds colliding.

“Keep up, manito, before we steal your boy away,” Lola shouts out, already crossing the street with TK still wrapped around her arm.

“Shit,” Carlos swears low before rushing to catch up.

 ֎֎֎

 They end up at some hipster tapas restaurant. It’s not his usual style, but his sisters and TK seem to like it as they all pick from the multiple small plates at their large table. The girls each have a wine glass in their hands and blessedly don’t blink an eye when TK says he doesn’t drink and orders an ice tea.

He sits next to TK, with his sisters on the other side of the table, watching the two of them like they’re putting on a show for their enjoyment. He glares at them, hoping they’ll cut it out, but they seem to just find his scowls enjoyable – ignoring him in favor of focusing on TK.

“So TK, how did you and our little brother meet?” Valentina asks, starting off the inquisition.

TK pauses mid-reach for the papas bravas at her question before grabbing the dish and scooping some onto his plate for him, giving him a smile when he says thank you. “Um, we met on a call,” he starts to say, taking the plate of garlic shrimp he offers him in return. “I’m a firefighter; we were answering a call to a car accident, and Carlos was the leading officer on the scene.”

“Ohh, a firefighter, nice,” Lola says, throwing him a teasing look. Carlos is grateful for it as it makes TK laugh, and he misses the pointed look his other sisters give him at the way he and TK interact so easily.

He knows they are dying to ask.

“How did you snag such a hottie, Carlitos?” Lola continues, turning her teasing towards him.

Carlos rolls his eyes; used to his sister’s good-natured ribbing, he opens his mouth to mess with her, only for TK to let out a snort.

“Well, first, look at him,” TK answers for him, turning to look at him with a teasing but soft look of his own, a sweet smile playing on his lips. “He’s gorgeous.”

Carlos feels his heart jump at the easy way TK compliments him, not shy in the least as it makes his sisters share another round of looks that this time TK catches.

“It seems to be a family trait. You’re all very beautiful,” he says to them with a charming smile that has Carlos groaning and laughing at once as it totally works on all three of them.

“Don’t butter them up,” he complains as he sees the twinkle in all their eyes. “They’re already insufferable all on their own. If you hype them up, they’ll just be impossible.”

“It’s not hype if it’s true,” Sofía says with a flick of her curly hair, getting a nod from Valentina and Lola.

“That’s right, wey,” Valentina continues, grinning at the face he makes at them. “Listen to your boyfriend; we’re beautiful.”

Carlos freezes at the word boyfriend, but TK just laughs with the girls, moving the conversation along as he asks more about Carlos’ childhood. He leans in, listening intently as the girls share embarrassing but honestly sweet stories about him. Each looking at him with the great love he knows they feel for him.

TK hangs on to every word, smiling softly over at him every few minutes as he files away information – like his love for anything custard and his intense fear of cicadas.

“One time when I was 15, this kid in the neighborhood was picking on me,” Valentina tells the story, sharing smiles with Lola and Sofía as they start to chuckle, remembering the moment.

“We were all playing outside, and he came over and started making fun of my glasses or clothes. I don’t even remember, but I was on the verge of tears when Carlos, who had been playing with his action figures on the porch, comes running and kicks him as hard as he can on the shins, surprising the kid. He tripped, and Carlos jumped on him, hitting him with his tiny fists, screaming at him not to be mean to his sister,” Valentina pauses, looking over at him fondly. “I’m eight years older than Carlos, he was only seven at the time, but he was still protecting me.”

“Awww,” TK gushes, looking over at him with a tender glint in his pretty green eyes. “That’s so sweet and so in character.”

Carlos feels himself blush at the focus of everyone around the table, fidgeting as they all grin at him. “I protect the people I care about,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“I know,” TK answers softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Trust me, I know.”

Carlos stares at TK feeling a shift in the air, his silly heart giving a flip as hope starts to sneak its way inside it.

“What else?” TK questions, turning back towards his sisters but not letting go of his hand.

The girls share another look between them, and Carlos can only guess what they’re thinking before they jump into more stories.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter and childhood anecdotes, and before Carlos knows it, they’re settling up the bill and walking out of the restaurant. They linger outside for a moment before, one by one, the girls hug TK first, telling him he needs to come to the next Reyes’ lunch and that their mother is going to fall in love with him. TK smiles through it, not making any promises other than checking his schedule with him. He forks over his phone easily when Lola asks to add him to WhatsApp with the promise of baby pictures of him, and Carlos just knows she’ll add TK to a group chat before the end of the night.

They turn to hug him, tight and warm as always, each whispering in his ear how much they like TK and how happy they are that he’s found someone who makes him smile the way he’s smiling. He hugs them back, all the while looking at TK over their shoulders, wondering what’s just happened in the course of the night.

He hails them a cab and reminds them to text him when they each get back to their homes, getting fond rolls of their eyes as they promise before getting into the cab, leaving him and TK alone with this sudden shift in their relationship.

Neither says anything for a moment, each knowing one of them needs to start.

“So,” he begins, biting the bullet. “I guess we should talk about tonight because I don’t know if you realize this, but my sisters just left with the impression we’re in a serious relationship, and that means I will have at least a dozen texts by morning from my mother.”

“Sure,” TK says, nodding quickly, nervous energy pouring out of him. “But first –“

TK takes a step into his space, and then another until his chest is pressed against his, and Carlos instinctively puts his hands on TK’s slim waist seconds before TK covers his mouth with his, in a hungry, almost desperate kiss. Carlos matches his energy, pouring all the love and longing coursing through him, claiming TK’s mouth the same way TK has claimed his heart.

He holds him so close he’s sure TK can feel the way his heart is pounding against his own.

“TK – “ he gasps out, his skin tingling at every point of contact. “What – “

“I’m crazy about you,” TK blurts out, stepping out of his hold to pace. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t see it coming. You were just supposed to be this cool guy I had good chemistry and good sex with, someone I would be friends with and share a bed with on occasion. This was supposed to be simple. But every day, I fall for you a little bit more and more with your kindness, your patience, the way you make me laugh and smile even when I don’t want to.”

He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up, looking adorable even as his eyes have gone wild. “You weren’t the plan. You came into my life when I was at my worst, and for some reason, you still wanted to be around me, offering me the best of you, and I have been trying to ignore it because I thought it was too soon after my break-up or because deep down, I think you deserve better than me.”

“There is no one better than you,” he interrupts, needing TK to understand that once and for all. “You’re not perfect, TK, I know that,” he says, holding up a hand when TK goes to argue. “But there is no one better – you are the only one for me.”

TK lets out a gasp at his words, finally not moving about, coming to a stop, and Carlos takes the chance to touch him again, bringing him in closer as he cups his face, tilting it up to him.

“Your sisters looked at me tonight as someone worthy of you,” he whispers, his eyes going glassy. “I so want to be that. I want to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos smiles, feeling everything inside him melt for the man in his arms. “Oh, baby,” he whispers softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead, his eyelids, cheeks, and the tip of his nose before he brushes his lips against TK’s.  He pulls him into a hug when he feels him tremble. “Don’t you get it? You already are.”

“Carlos – “ TK gasps something like a sob into his neck.

He pulls him back, making sure he’s looking at him before he finally says the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I’m in love with you, TK.”

TK lets out a wet laugh, nodding rapidly as he grasps his shoulders. “I’m in love with you too,” he answers, smiling brightly, matching Carlos’ own smile.

The kiss they share is salty from their mixed tears but perfect.

Breaking the kiss, they press their foreheads together, basking in the moment and the change in their relationship. Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever been happier, but after a moment, he finds himself letting out a groan as a realization creeps in.

“What is it?” TK questions him curiously.

“I just realized that if my sisters learn we weren’t official before we ran into them and that dinner with them helped in any way – I’m never going to hear the end of their mocking,” he answers, blinking in surprise when TK lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a deep belly laugh. It only grows as Carlos pouts at him in return.

“Not even five minutes of being boyfriends, and you’re laughing at my pain,” he says, trying to keep from smiling but being unable to do so at the use of the ‘B’ word and the way TK lights up at it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

TK sobers at his words, the laughter dying out but the loving smile staying in place. “I am so lucky,” he says softly, taking his hand.

Carlos intertwines their fingers, bringing their hand up to his lips, laying a kiss over TK’s knuckles. “I’m lucky too.”

[closedmadness]

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐒

summary: you’re a northsider, but an addam — part of the famous addams family. maybe that’s why you were different from all the northsiders in riverdale high, and sweet pea found himself falling for you as soon as he knew you aren’t like the others.

pairings: sweet pea x addams!male reader

warnings → fluff・reader being weird like the addams family・mention of disturbing things・swearing・reader being sassy?

the serpents entered through the doors of riverdale high, gathering too many attentions from the students as they approached the registration table veronica lodge had set.

everyone watched as she began to welcome the serpents with open arms while you just stood in the corner leaning on your locker reading a horror book. you probably stood out from the students as your type of clothing were rather dark and punk-like, and although many people found you disturbing you didn’t care. you were an Addams after all.

you kept reading your book until cheryl and her dog reggie appeared, disturbing your reading time annoyingly.

these two are the only people you can’t stand, simply because they’re too annoying and only the sound of their voices was enough for you to have an urge to chop off your head.

sighing deeply, you kept on reading your book despite the noise cheryl and reggie were making, a bunch of insults smoothly leaving their mouth like a vomit. seriously, it’s ridiculous how they’re going against people who can easily bring them down. the serpents aren’t called a gang for nothing.

your plan was to keep ignoring them and read your book in peace, but unfortunately that wasn’t what fate wanted for you. “yo, addams. come here.” reggie called out, moving his hand to gesture for you to approach them.

a deep sigh leaves your lips when you realized they won’t let you get away from them and just closed the book, adjusting the strap of your back pack before approaching them. you stopped just beside cheryl, your eyes traveling to look at the serpents one by one. though, only one serpent truly caught your attention — the one with dark raven hair and tall height.

“don’t you think they should get the hell out from our school?” reggie said, smirking with cheryl. “surely, a threat from the one and only (y/n) addams would tell them enough that this isn’t where they belong.”

you visibly rolled your eyes; they usually bullied you and made fun of you for being weird, but now they’re seeking help from you? no, that ain’t it.

besides, you actually feel fond of the serpents despite first time meeting. the color of their clothes made you happy, only because it mostly consisted of black. black is the color of happiness for you and your family.

“serpents should be back in their own nests.” reggie spat.

however, your attention remained on the tall serpent. “is that a tattoo?” you asked curiously, ignoring reggie and pointing at the tattoo on the tall serpent’s neck that you just caught sight of after studying him for a couple of seconds.

he raised his brows in slight surprise; why do you seem interested in his tattoo? That’s a first.

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“it looks great on you.” you complimented, causing everyone to look at you in surprise. “i’ve always wanted to get a tattoo, like the tattoo of a beheaded man holding his head.” you told him still staring at the serpent tattoo on his neck. he couldn’t help but snort at your choice.

“are you fucking serious?” reggie asked you ridiculously, looking at you as if you were some kind of a crazy person.

“i’m just speaking the truth.” you said without looking at him, proceeding to raise your fingers to touch the man’s tattoo. he tensed at first, but relaxed soon in your touch.

cheryl scoffed, “you’re ridiculous.”

you dropped your hand on your side and looked at her, “whatever. i don’t mind them staying here as long as they wear black. this school lacks of darkness, the only thing i see are pastels and a ridiculous redness of your clothes.” she gasped inaudibly at that. “i like red, it’s the color of blood. but every time you wear it, it gives me the urge to chop my head off. better wear more black like this serpents.” you said, pointing to the serpents, who were now smiling at you.

she clenched her jaw, “i’d rather die than wear the same color of clothes as this ragamuffins.” and stepped closer to you threateningly.

you tilted your head to the side a bit, “that can be arranged.” the seriousness in your voice made reggie quickly pull her back, knowing full well that you’re capable of doing it.

you slashed his wrist with a knife once after all. who said you can’t arrange cheryl’s death?

“(y/n), the southside are our enemies, not us.” reggie said with a warning tone, making the serpents let out a scoff, the tall male’s being the loudest.

you rolled your eyes, “i couldn’t care less about that northside-southside shit, you’re just making up an excuse to be a dick to somebody.” the tall male smirked. “besides, i doubt they’re gonna cause a trouble. snakes don’t really bite unless provoked.” you said, shrugging.

reggie glared, “this only means you’re betraying us.”

“i was never been on your side, mantle. though, maybe it’ll be possible if you just hand me your head so I can play with it.”

“not gonna happen.” he spat.

“right, ‘cause you’re too narcisstic to hand someone your head over.” few chuckles errupted from the serpents which made you smirk.

“anyway, good luck with kicking them out. i doubt you’ll be able to find a way with your fetus brain, but hey, trying isn’t bad.” you said rather cheerfully with a mixture of sarcasm before patting him on the shoulder and walking back to your previous place to continue the book you were reading.

“who knew he was going to defend us rather than siding with you who called him?” you heard the tall serpent say, causing you to chuckle at yourself quietly and a laughter to errupt from the serpents.

after that, well, you didn’t hear the rest of their conversation because you were pretty much focused on the book you were reading. though, you felt the tall serpent looking at you every once in a while, as if waiting for their commotion to end so he could approach you. and indeed, he approached you as soon as their commotion finished.

he placed one hand on the locker beside your head, trapping you between him and the locker but not completely. “hey, goth prince.” he greeted you flirtatiously with a smirk.

you looked up from your book and smirked as soon as your eyes met with his, closing the book to focus your attention on him. his nickname for you was so ordinary yet special. at least that’s how it sounded to you.

“what do i owe you the pleasure of, serpent king?”

he raised his brows at the nickname, “you think i’m a king?”

“well, you seem a lot like a king to me because of your tall height and intimidating feature.” you shrugged. “what do you want, though? usually people would avoid me because of how weird i am.”

“i like your weirdness, though.” he said, shrugging casually. a small smile appeared on your lips. “i’m Sweet Pea.” he introduced, moving to get beside you and leaning his body on the locker.

“that’s a strangely sweet name for a tough looking serpent like you.” you chuckled softly. “(y/n) addams, but i suppose you already know that.”

“yeah.” he chuckled. “that was a first. a northsider defending the southside.”

“i didn’t defend you, i was just being honest. this feud is getting annoying, insults being thrown here and there, why don’t you just quit with the insults and kill one another to end it instead?” the last sentence came out as a statement instead of a question.

sweet pea laughed, “you sound homicidal.”

you shrugged, “i am. everybody is. the only difference is that i’m not afraid to show it while they’re hiding it and pretending to be a normal, perfect people.” sweet pea nods his head as he mentally agreed with you.

silence took over as he studied you, taking your features in. he noticed your skin looking paler than normal, but the color of your lips still had a sign of life. your (h/c) hair fell graciously on some part of your forehead, adding more good looks on your already good-looking face. your (e/c) had a sense of darkness in them, refusing to hide and mixing with a little light. sometimes, emotions can be visible in your eyes, but it’s hard to read what emotion it is unless someone focuses on them. dark clothes fits you well and he figured it’s probably the only thing that suits you perfectly, since he can’t imagine you ever wearing light clothes.

“you seem to be enjoying the view, chéri.” your amused yet loving voice snapped him out of his daze and his cheeks flushed red, blushing at the fact that he was caught and also the fact that you called him darling.

yes, he understood french, even when he doesn’t look like he does.

he cleared his throat, “yeah... uh, right, i should probably stop staring.” he stumbled over his words and you chuckled softly.

“oh, don’t be embarrassed, chéri. i do love your attention.” you stated with a smile.

sweet pea smirked at that, starting to feel more confident with himself. now that he knows you’re loving his attention, he wouldn’t let this opportunity slip away from his fingers. he had to ask you out, he has to make you his. he decided that the moment you didn’t side with reggie and cheryl.

“so, prince...” he started, slightly leaning his head closer to you. “want to go to pop’s with me?”

you raised your brows, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“what if i am?” he smirked.

“maybe i’m going, maybe not.” you shrugged and laughed after seeing the smirk on his face slowly disappear. “i’m just joking, mon cher. yes, i want to go on a date with you.” you said with a large smile that no one has ever seen before.

a grin broke out of his lips, pure joy crossing his face. “great. you alright with after school?”

nodding, “yes, of course. but...” you trailed off, making him confused. you pointed your thumb at the side where your brother and sister stood. “you have to deal with them first.”

sweet pea looked at where you pointed and saw your two siblings — wednesday and pugsley — staring at him curiously, before he groaned, but a small smile plastered his face.

he wouldn’t mind dealing with your siblings if it meant he can go on a date with you.

© prettymadness — all rights reserved. do not repost or translate without my permission. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[ikevamp-shrine]

Thank you @yanderepuck​ for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance: 

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes: 

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes: 

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality: 

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company: 

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):  

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon  

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary. 

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

[ernestpembroke]

pidgeon+teddy for the ship meme

Also asked by @in-singh​

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? Edmund invited Ernest's brother over for drinks and Ernest stole the invitation since he was bored and his brother wasn't home.

What was their first impression of each other? Edmund wasn't even wearing a cravat and had hickeys along his neck so Ernest saw immediately that he was a bit of a rake. He also quickly proved himself to be fun and amusing company, Ernest was quick to befriend him.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? Sarah seems to be rooting for them if her willingness to help make Edmund jealous is any indication, and Edmund's sister Lavinia seems at least aware of their affection for one another, though Ernest doesn't know if she wants them together or not.

Who felt romantic feelings first? Ernest

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Ernest didn't, he just took a while to realize that's what it was. Edmund might be.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? Ernest would think it checks out, he’s thoroughly whipped.

What would their lives be like if they had never met? At this point not too different, Ernest might have decided to court Ophelia or Sarah in his absence, or even Mr. Wyatt since he is still there to find a match for himself. He’d probably also be much less confused.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? Ernest technically initiated it when he decided to joke about stripping down to pose naked for Edmund but Edmund carried it past a joke.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? They did not and still have not had an official date or courtship.

What was their first kiss like? Passive aggressive, instigated by Ernest to win an argument. Their second kiss was far more tender and meaningful, though the first cleared up the miscommunication that caused them to bicker.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? Edmund is the first person Ernest has ever fallen in love with as well as the first person he’s ever slept with.

What’s their height difference? Age difference? Edmund is an inch taller than Ernest and three years older.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Edmund is friends with Ernest’s brother and Ernest likes Edmund’s family. Around his mother and sister, Ernest behaves better and does at least try to be considerate when at Edmund’s that they live there, too. Would be very fond of his in-laws.

Who takes the lead in social situations? Ernest is very extroverted and often the first to jump forward but Edmund is not far behind.

Who gets jealous easier? Ernest, he gets jealous easily and over the most ridiculous of things sometimes.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? Ernest, often in public.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? Ernest said it one evening when he was drunk and coming undone in Edmund’s bed.

What are their primary love languages? Words of affirmation, quality time, and physical touch.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? Edmund

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? Ernest enjoys cuddling a lot but he’s often too restless to settle down during the day so Edmund will usually have to rope him in. As far as PDA goes, as a couple Ernest is happy to engage in it often. He doesn’t get too inappropriate but he makes sure they’re the couple that flirts incessantly with one another in public.

Who initiates kisses? They both do but Edmund does slightly more often than Ernest just because Ernest is not as physical.

Who’s the big and little spoon? Ernest usually winds up the little spoon but he enjoys starting out as the big spoon, likes giving Teddy back rubs and wrapping himself around him. In his sleep he usually rolls over, though and often hogs the bed and blankets.

What are their favorite things to do together? Ernest loves watching Edmund paint and as boring as modeling is, he’s always flattered when Edmund asks him to. He also enjoys reading to Edmund and will pick his favorite books, poems, and philosophers to share with him when they’re having a quiet afternoon. Later on, Ernest starts playing piano again and will play while Edmund paints.

Who’s better at comforting the other? Edmund is better at offering comfort but Ernest isn’t terrible at it, either. Ernest’s comfort is lots of problem solving and encouragement, while Edmund is good at slowing down and just being there.

Who’s more protective? They’re both protective but Ernest is unlikely to engage in anything physical unless he’s dragged into it (or if he’s truly concerned for Edmund’s safety and drunk enough not to worry too much for his own) so Edmund is likely the one who proves it more.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? They have a good balance between the two, Edmund often showers Ernest with compliments and kisses and Ernest is happy to return both of those gestures as often as he can. Ernest is better at showing physical affection, however; he often lacks the words to describe how much Edmund means to him and how highly he thinks of him.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? Birdie and Teddy!!

Who remembers the little things? Ernest is incredibly sentimental, he keeps little tokens from their relationship: the cravat he wore when they met (wears it on anniversaries), the first poem he read to Edmund (writes it in letters when they’re apart), and the first dance they did. Aside from anniversaries (first kiss anniversary, even) he’s also good at remembering birthdays and is always sure to spoil Edmund rotten on his.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes? Ernest does and it’s in a very chaotic, confusing way.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? Ernest would have liked a big wedding but he’s anxious Edmund will change his mind. Considers eloping but is talked out of it and settles instead for a normal sized wedding (still as fast as it can happen after he proposes) with Edmund’s family, Ernest’s brother, and a few close friends. They have an argument if Edmund wants to invite Kenneth and Ernest demands an apology from him in order for him to be alright with it. Is not the bigger person, does not apologize in return, but if he’s given one he’ll stop bickering about him being invited.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? Edmund already has a daughter and Ernest adores and spoils her like she’s his own. They adopt two more kids; one boy and one girl. Their son is rowdy just like his fathers and their daughters are thick as thieves. None of them are easy children but they’re well loved and all very close.

Do they have any pets? Their daughter finds a stray cat and brings it home and Ernest doesn’t have the heart to tell her they can’t keep it, although he’s allergic. He sneezes a good deal while the cat is in the room and will claim to hate it but clearly is fond of it since he’ll let it sit on his lap while he’s working or reading.

Who’s the stricter parent? Edmund. Ernest hates disciplining their children and is the dad to go to when you want to be told yes. When their kids enter their adolescence, Ernest does get a little more strict, not wanting them to be as wild as he was at their age.

Who worries the most? Ernest worries often about all sorts of things but it’s usually kept to himself until it spills out of him one evening after he’s had too much to drink.

Who kills the bugs in the house? Their staff

How do they celebrate holidays? Holidays with the Pembroke family were not a huge affair since Ernest was never close to them, aside from his brother. He happily adopts Edmund’s holiday traditions, though will invite his brother to join or else they’ll visit him some years, instead.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? Edmund. Ernest stays up late most nights and wakes up early, he operates off of very little sleep most of the time and yet still seems full of energy.

Who’s the better cook? Neither of them are good cooks, they’ve both had staff to do that for them all their lives. Ernest did, however, learn to bake when his staff all resigned and will give it another go every now and again. He’s not very good at it and the cake is usually a little flat and sad looking.

Who likes to dance? They both enjoy dancing though Edmund is better at it, Ernest isn’t bad himself. Ernest is always thrilled when Edmund asks him to dance.

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back

That’s why I’m so tough on Dipper. So when the world fights, he fights back.

or,

five times that Stan helped Dipper recover after an encounter with the supernatural, and one time Dipper returned the favor.

~~

Here’s my first attempt at a 5 + 1!  My ideas and notes for this ended up getting super long, so I decided to break it up into different chapters instead of posting it all at once!

AO3

Stan can tell it’s the kids coming in through the gift shop door without even looking up from the stash of earnings he’d been counting. The height of tourism wouldn’t come until next month, and sitting around in the gift shop waiting for tourists to come by when he could always just close early to watch TV tended to get very boring very quickly.

He glances upward to greet them, and he’s surprised to find that they’re covered head to toe in cuts and scratches, and there’s twigs and leaves stuck in their hair. 

“Yeesh, you two get hit by a bus or something?” he jokes, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t stick. The young twins just blink at him in eerie synchrony, and he can’t help but notice as they make their way to the living room that they’ve both got a slight limp in their step, and...come to think of it, hadn’t Dipper been wearing a cap when he left? 

“Hey, uh, hold on a second”

Both twins freeze, and turn back around to face them with their soft brown eyes tinted with exhaustion. Stan clears his throat. “W-wouldn’t you know, I uh, accidentally overstocked on some inventory, so, uh, how’s about each of you take one item from the gift shop? On the house”

The grin that spreads across Mabel’s face is bright enough that it could put any electrician within a ten mile radius out of business. Her brother seems less convinced, and raises his eyebrows at Stan in an expression that nearly mirrors one of his own. 

“What’s the catch?” 

“The catch is do it before I change my mind, now pick something”. 

The answer seems to pacify the kid. Mabel excitedly sprints off to the opposite side of the store as something shiny seems to catch her eye, and as much as the kid’s trying to hide it, Stan can’t help but notice how much slower Dipper’s moving without his sister’s arm wrapped around his shoulder for support. It seems he’s gotten the worse beating between the two of them from...whatever it is those kids have been up to all afternoon, and even from where he’s standing at the register Stan can see the dark purple ring of a bruise sitting just below his eye.

He’d always bruised much easier than his sister.

Even when they were the tiniest of kids, and he’d take the eight hour drive down from Gravity Falls to babysit them in California, Dipper would always end up with bruises all over his arms and legs from the smallest of falls. For the longest time, he’d chalked it up to being a terrible babysitter, and it was only a matter of time before Mabel would end up the same way, until one day when he witnessed them trip over the same dent in the rug within ten minutes of each other. Where Mabel had been able to get right back up and be on her merry way, Dipper had cried about the scraped knee the short fall gave him for at least ten minutes.

Stan clears his throat. “Hey, uh...kid?” 

Dipper turns from where he’d been admiring his new hat in the small shelf-side mirror. “Yeah?”

Stan fidgets anxiously with the collar of his suit. There’s gotta be something the kid’s not telling him, right? There’s only one other  person Stan knows who could wander off on his own for half an hour and come back looking like he’d been fending himself off from wildlife for the past month, and it didn’t take much to notice the kid took after him in a lot more ways than one. “I…”

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” Mabel suddenly shouts from the other side of the room, startling his train of thought away. When he and Dipper turn to her, she’s dangling from the ceiling.

“Uh…” Stan blinks. “Wouldn’t you rather have a doll, or something?”

Her grin only grows wider, and she pulls the trigger again to loosen herself from the ceiling. She lands to the ground with a heavy thump. “Nope!”  She aims her grappling hook towards the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and flings herself towards it. She smacks against the door, but with a quick “I’m okay!,” she stands to her feet and disappears through the door with it.

Beside Stan, Dipper chuckles, and it’s light and genuine. “Good luck getting that back from her ever again. Mom and Dad bought her a bedazzler for our twelfth birthday and she slept with the thing under her pillow for six months. She’s never giving that thing back”.

Stan shrugs, amused. “Heh, well, least now I know she’ll be able to defend herself if the goat turns on her.”

Dipper laughs. “After she got banned from the petting zoo I doubt she’d even need the grappling hook in that kind of situation”

...That’s a story he’s going to need to hear for sure.

But no, he’s getting off-track. Might as well bite the bullet before the kid heads to bed and he loses his nerve to ask. There’s a brief moment of silence between them, like Stan’s waiting for Dipper to speak up first, but then…

“Kid, are you sure you’re doing okay?”

Dipper tenses, and that should probably be enough of an answer for Stan, but Stan knows the kid, and he knows a white lie when he sees one, even if it’s just in the way Dipper carries himself. Stan’s had a lot of practice undermining how he’s feeling for the sake of other people. After you’ve been doing it for so long it becomes pretty easy to recognize in other people.

“Yeah!” Dipper’s voice squeaks, the way it does when he’s lying. “What makes you think that I’m not?”

Stan raises an eyebrow at him. “You and your sister come in looking like you’ve been mauled by a bear, and you’ve got a huge bruise on your face that your sister doesn’t” he gently taps at his own cheek to indicate its location.  He sighs, shaking his head. “Look, you don’t gotta disclose to me how it happened, if it’s scary, or embarrassing, or whatever, but I want you to be honest about how you’re feeling. Your parents are trusting me to take care of you for the summer and I can’t exactly do that well if you hide things from me”.

Dipper frowns, his gaze turning away from Stan and down towards the cuts and scrapes on his arms. He looks as though his mind’s racing at a hundred miles per hour, and Stan almost wishes he had the power to read minds just to make this whole ordeal easier. 

He settles for a shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, you know me.” His voice is more controlled than it had been a moment ago, but he’s still not making direct eye contact with him. “I’ve always been clumsier than Mabel. Must’ve gotten it when I tripped over that tree root sticking out of the ground.” He tries to dismiss the thought with a wave of his hand, but it’s as if he’s trying to demonstrate what he means, because his elbow bumps against the edge of the counter and he hisses in pain. He rubs at it tenderly, and when he stops and moves his hand away his fingers are lightly caked with blood. 

Stan’s mouth forms to a tight, straight line. He punches the cash register to open it and put the rest of the day’s earnings inside. “Alright, that’s it. Come with me” 

Dipper looks horrified. “You’re not taking me to the hospital, are you?” A quick glance to his hands, and he finally notices the blood. “I don’t need stitches, do I? Am I gonna get some weird, gross infection, or-”

Stan kneels to his level. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy there, kiddo” he says, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I’m not taking you to the hospital. Doesn’t look like nearly enough blood to need stitches anyway. We’re just gonna go into the kitchen and get the first aid kit, okay?”

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay”.

He follows Stan into the kitchen like he’s his shadow, gripping onto his elbow like his life depends on it. He hops into a chair at the kitchen table and watches Stan’s every move, tight grip on his elbow not lightening up. Stan takes the seat besides Dipper, placing the first aid kit on the table beside a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. 

“Alright,” Stan clicks the first aid kit open. “Show me what the damage is” 

Dipper flinches at the use of the word damage, but he finally loosens his death grip on his elbow. It’s caked with dry blood, but Stan’s relieved to find that it doesn’t look like it’s gushing. He’d been right in assuming that he must’ve reopened the cut banging his elbow on the gift shop counter. Stan hums a noise of acknowledgement as he stands to wordlessly tell Dipper he’ll be right back, and pulls a washcloth from the drawer next to the sink. He runs it under cool water for a moment before he squeezes out the excess water and offers it to Dipper. 

“Clean that off with this” Stan scrunches his nose. “Last thing you need is dry blood blocking the thing’s airway, and I can’t see how bad it actually is ‘til you clean it out. I’d help you with it, but, uh, I tend to have a hard time being gentle”

There’s a quiet laugh as Dipper takes it from him. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan”, he says with a smile, and Stan ruffles his hair as he sits back down beside him.

“Yeah, well don’t go telling anyone that I’m going soft. I owe too many people too much money for word to get around that I’m a good guy, or something”

Dipper stares blankly at him for a moment, like he’s trying to decide if he’s joking or if he means that statement completely seriously, but then he rolls his eyes as he wipes the cut clean. Once he’s sure that he’s finished, he holds his elbow up towards Stan so he can check to see how it looks. It’s bigger than Stan expected it to be, but he’s relieved that it doesn’t seem very deep. He takes a tube of triple antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit, and squints as a shaky hand moves to keep Dipper’s arm still. 

“Alright, this is gonna sting a lot while I rub this stuff all over the cut, but I’m gonna need you to stay still.” With his free hand, he grabs for the miniature box of bandages and offers it to Dipper. “Take one of these. I’m gonna need you to put it on while I check over everything else”.

Dipper doesn’t reply with anything other than a nod of acknowledgement, though the look in his eyes is something reaching admiration. Stan can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips at the sight.

Once that’s taken care of, he gives the kid a one-over to make sure his other injuries don’t need as much attention. He still doesn’t know what the kid’s been up to all day, but if his brother’s first journal is anything to go by then he knows there’s no such thing as being too careful. He doesn’t look like he encountered any huge monsters, as there doesn’t seem to be any significant bite marks anywhere on his skin, and Stan’s relieved to find that the majority of Dipper’s scratches are already in the process of fading. 

Just to be safe, for the scratches around his cheeks that had gathered small patches of dirt, Stan dabs a gauze into the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and gently wipes at the scratches with it until the dirt clears away. Without standing from his chair he tosses the gauze towards the trash can, but it bounces off the rim and lands to the floor beside it. 

Dipper snorts in barely-contained laughter, and the sound of it has Stan smiling again. 

“See? Good as new” Stan says, gesturing vaguely towards Dipper.  He blushes, smiling towards the floor, before he stands from his chair and rushes forward to give Stan a hug that’s over as quick as it starts.

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan”, he murmurs, and he’s running towards the staircase before Stan’s even finished processing the hug. He’s just about to reach the top of the staircase when something finally comes to Stan, and he rushes towards the stairs just before his nephew can disappear around the corner.

“Hey, Dipper?”

He stops. “Yeah?”

“Just…” Stan taps at the hand railing with his fingers. “Just promise me you and your sister’ll try to stay safe, okay?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but eventually Dipper nods his head. “I promise”.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Could you please rec cherik fics where they still have powers but being mutant is well accepted? (Kind of like the Daycare Verse by brillingspoons) THANK U SO MUCH YOURE INCREDIBLE

Hi anon, of course I have a list for you. I am so sorry for the delay. I have been super busy lately with work and home renovations, but I’m back and I have a looong list for you. Now, the nature of x-men as a parallel of the very real fight of minority groups for civil rights makes it pretty hard to find fics where everyone accepts mutants.That’s actually why I love the x-men, because they represent the fight of those who are ostracised. So, some of these might have some social commentary, but the main focus does not lie there. Also, if you love the Daycare Verse check out pocky_slash’s fics (who actually wrote the majority of the Daycare Verse). 

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Cherik ´Still Have Powers Modern AU´ Fic Recs

irreconcilable differences (make for surprisingly good bedfellows) – pocky_slash

Summary: Tonight on The Evening Report with Malcolm Stevens, noted geneticist and mutant equality proponent Dr. Charles Xavier faces off with the infamous mutant rights activist Magneto in a live televised debate over the Genetic Nondiscrimination Act.

(At least, if they can stop flirting long enough to stay on topic.)

Words and Pictures – pocky_slash

Summary: When Lorna's powers manifest early, Charles Xavier's mutant picture books are the perfect teaching tool. Erik just hadn't expected the author to be so young. Or attractive. Or available.

For the Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

(Another segment of this series is posted under the Cookie Cutter fic collection - thanks again, Takmarierah!)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

You Show Me Yours - endingthemes

Summary: When Erik receives nudes in the middle of the night from an unknown number, he's confused and mildly amused. He doesn't expect it to turn into an actual conversation...with feelings.

As if that's not baffling enough, his friend's brother ends up crashing at his place, further complicating everything.

Some Such Place (The Big Screen Classics Remix) - Pocky_Slash

Summary: Erik's spent the last eighteen months having lengthy socio-political conversations and casual sex with Charles Xavier after seeing Monday matinees at a dingy little independent movie theatre in the Village. That doesn't mean they're friends. Or that Erik should have any say in what Charles is going to do with his future.

(At least, that's what Erik keeps telling himself.)

Into Your Tar, Honey  - tomato_greens

Summary: Really, Alex doesn’t know why he’s in the damn class.

(Or, the one in which Charles teaches an online Introduction to Biology course, and Alex reads more than he expected to.)

Heli Cases - Black_Betty

Summary: "Heli Cases" is a program on PBS whose aim is to educate on the rapidly increasing occurrence of genetic mutation in the general populous by breaking the complex science down into palatable, easy to digest pieces.

It is also the only thing that helps Erik get his fussy daughter to fall asleep.

(Featuring Dadneto, baby Lorna and the struggles of single fatherhood, and Charles as the host of a late night show about genetics.)

Bound - FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

An Exercise in Frustration – ikeracity

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr's latest critically-acclaimed film Shame features a full-frontal nudity scene. His long-suffering husband Charles is really very peeved about it.

Eyes on Fire - Black_Betty

Summary: Every once in a while, fashion tycoon Emma Frost invites her favourite male models over to entertain her. And by "entertain", I mean she makes them have kinky consensual sex in front of her....Emma never touches herself when she watches, but she always has a glass of wine with her. Emma likes it best when they eventually forget that she's watching.

Charles and Erik meet each other through Emma...

(I've taken some liberties with the prompt, but all the sex is still there, and it's wholly consensual...and gradually, becomes more than just sex...)

Order Up - ikeracity

Summary: Charles has a terrible habit of multitasking, and that is probably why he absentmindedly tells the pizza man that he loves him when hanging up.

Then the pizza man says it back. And Charles is pretty much smitten from there.

Some Assembly Required - manic_intent

Summary: "Alex and Hank were two teenagers who frequently fight in school. One fight got so bad that the principal called in their fathers (as both came from single-parent families)/ guardians for a conference. This was how Charles and Erik meet."

Limited Release - rageprufrock

Summary: When Alex Summers broke out of supermax to rescue his stupid kid brother, he had no idea it was going to be so fucking complicated.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

PART 2 of Math Reasons

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

apple season – pocky_slash

Summary: "You know," Charles says while they're sitting around the kitchen table reading the paper, "You should take Anya apple picking."

"Don't you mean 'we?'" Erik responds. The silence that follows is enough to make him re-examine his own apple picking memories a little more closely. Uneven ground littered with apples, tree roots, holes, and narrow passage between rows of orchard trees. "Oh," he says.

rooms/shares – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik is single, working a cube job he hates, letting his master's degree in mutant studies collect dust, and living on his best friend's couch. When she kicks him out, he's forced to trawl Craigslist for the least-offensive rooming option within his meagre budget. He never expects a response from the persnickety, high maintenance ad he replies to as a joke, but it's possible this too-nice apartment and mysteriously absent roommate might be the answer to all four of his problems.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

Tough little baby telepath – aesc, pearl_o

Five Part Series

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that.

Frosted hearts – aesc, palalife

Summary: Emma Frost has 99 problems, but a date ain't one. Specifically, she has no time to play the dating game--which is fine with her, because she'd much rather run it instead. From a set of sleek, silver and white offices on Fifth Avenue and with her trusty, stylish, and silent partner Janos Quested, Emma has built Frosted Hearts into New York City's premiere dating service, built on the principle that money, and a sufficiently rigorous psionic scan, can, in fact, buy you love.

Somewhere in Frosted Hearts's server is one Charles Xavier, genius and geneticist, with the kind of nicely-starched good looks that sell well on brochures for New England prep schools. He's also a telepath who's decided to give up pursuing serious relationships and instead spend his thirties doing what he should have done as a teenager: have a lot of sex with random people. Fortunately for him, Erik Lehnsherr, metallokinetic and engineering executive, has absolutely no time in his heart or his schedule for anything more serious than... well, absolutely nothing romantic at all.

Mercy of the Fallen (the AirDrop Security Update 2.0) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr feels defined by his past sins and after years of acting against his own moral compass, he's finally struck out on his own. He's his own boss now, and determined to work hard to help the mutant community and make up for years of doing someone else's dirty work.

Complicating this is Charles Xavier, mutant advocate, genetics professor, unfairly attractive telepath, and owner of the coffee shop below Erik's office. Erik may not think he deserves to be a part of the community he's thrown himself into helping, but Charles has other ideas on the matter, and he's determined to do everything in his power to make Erik see himself as a force for good.

you follow and i’ll lead – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: When Charles discovers how frustrated and self-conscious his best friend Erik is about his ignorance about sex, he's eager to volunteer to help teach him and practice. Charles might not have any more direct experience than Erik, but he does have a telepath's mind full of accidentally picked-up fantasies and memories, as well as knowledge of a few dirty books - and more importantly, he's been madly in love with Erik for years. This seems like a brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he can't pass up.

Now he just needs to manage to keep his feelings in check, and not ruin their friendship forever.

Snail Mail – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex isn't thrilled when his boss, Erik, starts sending him to hand deliver notes to Erik's husband up at the university--that is, until he sees the Professor's hot new TA, and suddenly, the notes can't come fast enough. If only Alex could work up the guts to ask him out....

this is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Student/Teacher Relations – PoorMedea

Summary: As a TA, Charles knows he can't get involved in all his students' lives. He needs to keep professional boundaries, to make sure that he's an authority figure. But when he accidentally finds out how complicated Erik Lehnsherr's home life is, he suddenly finds that distance hard to maintain.

Fill for the prompt: Erik is the teen dad of adorable baby!Lorna. I just want teen!Erik being a dad, with adorable interactions between him and his baby. Angst is good too since there's always going to be some in such situations, but mainly I want to see teen dad Erik being an awesome dad who loves the hell out of his daughter despite whatever else may be going on.

Conspiracy of Kisses – Alaceron

Summary: Seven-year-old Erik needs to keep his telepathic best friend Charles from finding out that he wants to kiss him. But that's okay, because he has a plan - he'll put on a tinfoil hat.

Favorite Mistake – endingthemes

Summary: Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

Never Take Biology for Granite – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: Charles is an internet celebrity who garners his fame from posting educational, in-depth videos about a different animal every week, though for some reason his viewers are always more interested in his sex life with his geologist husband, Erik, who happens to frown heavily upon all living things.

Except for Charles, of course, whom he's missed these past couple days while attending a geologic convention--though considering the subject material of Charles' newest video, he's wishing he would've stayed away longer.

This Is Not Comedy – baehj2915

Summary: Written for amarriageoftrueminds' prompt for a Cherik version of Louis CK's tangent about the fuckability of Ewan McGregor.

Naturally the similarities end there. I made this about Erik's full on public lust-filled gay revelation, and the chaos that spirals from there.

Snowed In – dedkake

Summary: Charles and Erik have a one night stand, but a blizzard traps them in Erik's apartment afterward.

[patrickstargang]

The Firelord’s Promise (Kyoshi fic)

Chapter 1: Nomad’s Land

Chapter 2: A Bureaucrat's Word

Chapter 3: Throw Away Your Honor, Rally In The Streets

Chapter 4: Unfortunate Truths

Chapter 5: A Change For The Better

Chapter 6: The Roles We’re Given

Chapter 7: To Save A Life

Final Chapter: I’ll Always Be With You

*this fic contains massive spoilers for Shadow of Kyoshi

The distance from Yokoya to the Fire Nation wasn’t particularly far, but sometimes a sky bison could be unreliable in long distances. It didn’t help that everyone from the estate (minus Aunt Mui) decided to join in on Kyoshi’s “diplomatic” meeting with the Firelord. Even the Flying Opera Company begrudgingly tagged along as back up. They weren’t in support of dabbling with the authorities but they still swore loyalty to their brothers and sisters.

They found themselves in a canyon, the slightly rougher areas of the Fire Nation wilderness that bordered the capital. To get to the capital was about a day’s journey on foot, but it was already nearing dusk. Everyone made camp while the sun was beginning to set.

Kyoshi stood away from the camp, attempting to earthbend, something that should be more than familiar to her. While her state of bending improved since the day Hei-ran arrived at the estate, Kyoshi still found herself struggling with bending. She lifted up a large chunk of the ground in front of her, but it began to swivel around as she tried to push it forward. It was fragile and unbalanced, crumbling before it could make impact with anything. Her face strained as she tried again, feeling like it was more of an effort than it should be.

Rangi noticed Kyoshi struggling, seeing the Avatar having to face the obstacle of basic bending was a sorry sight. But Rangi remembered her promise, and she knew what to do in a moment like this.

She walked up behind Kyoshi, observing the towering girl as she tried to hold another chunk of stone before it collapsed. “Having trouble?”

Kyoshi shook her head with a stoic face. Rangi then stood in front of her with a knowing smirk. “Are you sure?”

Kyoshi then remembered the promise she made to Rangi, to be more honest with her when she needed to. She exhaled, letting the fourth attempt at shifting earth fall to the ground.

“I’ve just been having trouble with bending lately. Like yesterday, I couldn’t even bend a puddle, now I can’t even bend my native element.”

Rangi began to understand the severity of the situation. At first, she thought her superstition about the Avatar not learning the elements in order was becoming true, but she knew that saying that wouldn’t help. So she had other ideas.

Rangi lightly tugged on the sleeve of Kyoshi’s kimono, getting her attention. “How about some firebending practice? This time we can actually start with fire fists.”

Rangi stood back and reeled her arm behind her and swiftly let out a quick but forceful flame from her fist, like a sudden fiery jab. Kyoshi observed, noting the delicate details she might have missed the first time she properly learned the technique. She copied her motions to the best of her ability, only to have produced a light spark from her knuckles. She hid her face in her hands, filled with aggravation.

“I don’t understand! I was fine a few days ago, now it’s like my bending disappeared overnight.”

Rangi’s concern grew, she wasn’t sure if this was something that she could help with. Jinpa stood off to the side listening to their conversation, but after Kyoshi’s last statement he decided to join the group.

“Maybe it has something to do with your chi flow,” said Jinpa while stroking his chin.

Kyoshi remembered her lessons about chi flow at the Air Temples. She learned about its place as the energy that connects all life, more or less the ultimate life source. But she also learned that it is the life force of the bender , giving them the powers they possess. And as a result, she learned about chi block, an instance where bending is rendered almost useless by some physical or mental obstacle. She wasn’t being attacked in any way so she crossed off physical obstacles from the possibilities. All that was left was the more tricky of the two.

“Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t had a chi block sooner, especially with your run-in with the Yellow Necks.”

Kyoshi remembered the injuries she took from her fight with Xu Ping, which should have been a complete block of her chi from everything the Monks told her. Yet she was still able to bend after her recovery. So why was this happening now?

Rangi wasn’t entirely knowledgeable about chi, as it was a concept that was never taught in-depth at the Academy. However, she tried to move the conversation in the right direction. “Is there a way to unblock her chi?”

“Well, one way to do that is to connect to your spiritual side. Sometimes this could mean visiting a spiritual place or something as simple as clearing your mind and emotions through meditation. It all depends on how bad your chi block is.”

It was strange for Kyoshi. In terms of being the Avatar, she still had trouble connecting with the spiritual, mainly since most of her encounters with it left her in dire situations. But this gave her an idea.

“Maybe I can try going into the Spirit World, there's nothing more spiritual than talking with your past lives, right?”

Jinpa thought about it for a moment and quickly nodded in agreement. “I don’t see why it couldn’t work.”

But then an air of doubt came over Kyoshi, she looked down. “But at the same time, I’ve only gotten it to work on rare occasions. The only thing I’ve noticed is that I was able to enter the Spirit World whenever I was in a spiritual place, and as far as I know, there aren’t any spiritual places near he-”

Suddenly, a rustling came from the bushes next to camp that caught everyone off guard. It stopped for a moment before rustling again. It also sounded as if voices were coming from them. At that point everyone became alert. Rangi held out a ball of fire in her hand and Kirima brought a stream out from her water skin, ready to attack. Kyoshi got into her earthbending stance before she remembered her chi block, awkwardly dropping her hands.

Rangi stepped toward the bush, a stern authority in her voice. “Who's there! Show yourself!”

Suddenly, four different people rolled out from the small bush. They were wearing light Fire Nation clothing with long sleeves and carried small bags and satchels. One of them, a somewhat scrawny man with a big beard and spectacles, held up his hands trying to stop the tension.

“Hey, hey, we mean no harm! We didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Kirima raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, then why don’t you explain what you're doing out here in the first place. Who are you people?”

At that moment, Jinpa noticed something about the group. They were all wearing necklaces, more specifically necklaces made from fire lilies. Jinpa’s eyes widened. He moved past Rangi to meet the group.

“You-your all nomads, aren’t you.”

The bearded man smiled at the sudden recognition. “Yes my good man, more specifically we’re Fire Nation nomads.”

Kirimia and Rangi slowly let their guard down, both confused at Jinpa’s interaction. He shook the bearded man’s hand, keeping his polite demeanor.

Kirima walked up to the group of nomads. “That still doesn’t explain what you're doing out here.”

“Why, we’re out on a spiritual journey to find enlightenment. We’re here to find Szeto’s Pillar.”

A feeling of suspicion came over Kirima. “Szeto’s what?”

The bearded man turned off to the side and pointed out into the distance. “Szeto’s Pillar.”

Surrounded by a sea of cooled molten rock stood a towering, monolithic pillar of stone. With its height, it was able to partially block out the sun as it was setting.

The bearded man continued to gaze off into the distance. “During the age of Avatar Szeto, one of the volcanos near the Fire Nation capital was erupting, causing mass hysteria and panic for the people. But Szeto stopped the magma flow from the safety of his stone pillar. Now, these volcanoes will stay dormant for years to come. This pillar has become a sort of sacred spot, a place to stand where one of the great Avatars once stood.”

This gave Kyoshi an idea. Not only did she have a spiritual place to unblock her chi, but this could be an opportunity to speak with Szeto. She was able to contact Kuruk and Yangchen, this could be the next step.

She turned to Rangi, whispering so the nomads wouldn’t overhear. “This might be my chance, if I can get my chi flow back by tomorrow we’ll be able to make it into the capital safely.”

Rangi let out a light chuckle, realizing this was Kyoshi’s way of asking to leave. “You don’t have to tell me twice, go on ahead.”

Kyoshi smiled and kissed Rangi on her forehead before starting a light jog towards the Pillar.

The bearded man halted his conversation with Jinpa to note Kyoshi’s sudden leave. “Gee, your friend there is pretty excited to see the Pillar.”

Jinpa nervously rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, she can be a bit….enthusiastic sometimes.”

The bearded man let out a hearty laugh before surveying the area. “Well, it looks like you're all settled in pretty nicely, I guess our journey can wait till tomorrow. But in the meantime….”

The bearded man and the other three nomads all pulled out jars filled with a strange looking liquid.

“Who wants to drink cactus juice and find spiritual enlightenment!”

-----------------------------

Night quickly came over the canyon, the campfire lit up the darkness and spirits were high. Mostly. The nomads were already in full swing with some of their “spiritual” exercises. Jinpa decided to join in to varying degrees of success. He thought that cactus juice was a spiritual cleanser, like what onion-banana juice was back at the Air Temples. Now he was laughing hysterically at the wildlife and his own airbending while the nomads incoherently argued about who opened the most of their seven chakras.

Kirima and Wong were both amused and terrified at Jinpa’s state. The airbender was known to be somewhat of a stickler for good behavior, but now he had no regard for proper manners. Hei-ran looked as if her soul was leaving her body, watching everything that was unfolding alongside the other two members of the Flying Opera Company. She had her blackboard and chalk but even her words couldn’t communicate the confusion and distaste she felt. Atuat almost tried the cactus juice, but after seeing how Jinpa fared after trying it she decided against it.

Rangi half paid attention to the antics that were taking place, but part of her mind was elsewhere. There was a lot of uncertainty for what tomorrow would hold. Even though she was the Avatar’s bodyguard, she was also part of the Fire Nation military. Now she would have to face the idea of going against her own nation’s leader. She had fought to stop corruption in many other parts of the world, but it was a different beast to deal with corruption in her own home. If Zoryu had not kept his promise, then that means Rangi would have to go against her own code of honor.

But then another thought came to her. She had said before that she wished to share the greatness of the Fire Nation with the rest of the world, but with everything that was happening she was beginning to question how true that “greatness” really was. The more she thought about it, the more it upset her. The Saowan clan was charged not for the few people that were creating pushback, but for the entire clan itself. Chaejin and Huazo obviously had their hand in starting a commotion but there were those who were arrested without knowing what was even happening. It made her stomach churn.

But then she became much more grateful for Kyoshi, she could have pretended that Zoryu’s treatment of the Saowan clan never happened and let them all be imprisoned, or worse. But she didn’t. She became a headache for both Zoryu and the chancellors. The Firelord was trying to make an easy solution for a not so easy problem, which might cause greater harm to his people and his own status than he may realize. Kyoshi wasn’t out for what she believed was revenge, she was out for stopping injustice enacted by those who were the supposed preservers of justice. But the possibility of killing Zoryu was still a thorn in Rangi’s side, the consequences for it could be much greater than the Saowan’s imprisonment. What could Kyoshi be gaining if she went through with it?

Then on that thought, Rangi realized Kyoshi was still at the Pillar even though hours had already passed. She might be having trouble getting into the Spirit World. Rangi remembered her promise to Kyoshi, as she got up from her seat.

She leaned over to Atuat. “I’m going to go check up on her. Could you keep an eye on Jinpa for me?”

The healer chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll make sure he doesn’t embarrass himself...well any more than he already has.”

As she said that, Jinpa was reaching for another glass of cactus juice before Hei-ran took the drink out of his hands and threw it into the bushes.

------------------------------

The terrain of the cooled magma was uneven, like trying to maneuver through a valley filled with millions of small hills. Rangi skipped from the peak of each mound, getting closer to the Pillar. Once she arrived, she noticed a stone stairway around it, one that was built at some point after Szeto’s time. She ascended to the spiraling staircase, noting just how tall the Pillar actually was. Once she made it to the top, she found her Yokoya girl meditating.

At least that's what it looked like at first. As Rangi moved closer she could see the strain in Kyoshi’s brow, like someone trying their hardest to look as if they were at peace. Kyoshi let out a soft sigh and opened her eyes. She turned her head to see Rangi.

“Still having trouble?”

Kyoshi looked back out into the distance, feeling the soft breeze that such a high spot gave her. “Yeah….But I’m still not getting anywhere. I’m the only one who can bend the four elements and communicate with the Spirit World and right now I can do neither of those two things. Some Avatar I am, huh….”

Rangi gave her a concerned pout. “You seem to forget really quickly don’t you,” she said as she shifted to sit beside Kyoshi. “You may think that you have to face your Avatar duties alone, but you don’t. I’ll be here for you, even if I can only help a little.”

Kyoshi’s sardonic tone quickly changed to sincerity. She didn’t forget, but it was still nice to remember that Rangi meant what she said that night. “Thank you….”

“Now, maybe you just need a partner,” Rangi crossed her legs and put her hands together in the same position that Kyoshi was in. “Try breathing with me.”

Kyoshi straightened herself and closed her eyes, waiting for Rangi’s orders. It was like doing Horse stance again, except without the pain in her legs.

“Now do as I do…..In.”

Kyoshi inhaled at her command, letting it linger as long as it needed to.

“And out…..”

She exhaled through her nose. Already she had a greater sense of flow than she had when she was alone.

“In…..”

She inhaled again, she was fully in sync with Rangi. While the Avatar was uncertain of her many bending abilities, she felt comforted by the fact that she still had air on her side.

“And out….”

Kyoshi could feel Rangi’s warmth beside her, every breath like an ember slowly growing its flame. It was relaxing and stimulating at the same time.

Soon the words were fading out, but she still kept into the flow of her breathing before she was doing it instinctually. Sound began to fade out completely, her mind becoming clear. She stayed in that silence for a little bit.

Then she felt a cool air come over her, like that of a mist coming over the mountains. She slowly began to open her eyes, seeing the abstract clouds that enveloped the Spirit World before she heard a voice. A voice that sounded experienced yet rough.

“It’s about time you showed up, you're a few months late.”

[indiavolojones]

CONGRATS ON 1K @obeysme​!! I am your humble servant, m. please, anything you want to exist, I will do my best to bring to u. *choked sobbing*

2.5kish words, T for blood mentions, human sorcerer!Asmodeus/demon!Solomon. 

#lil bit of gore, lilith dies here too. 

the main difference in this AU is that Solomon (and MC, but they don’t appear here) are demons, and the seven brothers are powerful human sorcerers. this is a wildly indulgent AU with a ridiculous amount of unnecessary lore already existing in my brain lmfao.

this is also... mostly just snapshots of a relationship. hopefully it’s not so jumpy than it doesn’t make sense!! but if anyone cares, lmk and I’ll clarify anything!

~~

The first time Asmodeus asks Solomon to make a pact with him, he tells Asmodeus that he’d rather pick his teeth with Asmodeus’ bones. The second time, Solomon chokes Asmodeus until the other nearly passes out, only letting go when Diavolo’s disapproving frown appears in his mind like an unfortunate conscience.

The third time, a tipsy, bold Asmodeus dares to take the empty seat beside Solomon at the party, and Solomon is ready to snap. 

“Would you make a pact with me, Solomon?” Asmodeus asks, as if that is their hello. 

I should kill you for speaking to me, Solomon nearly says, but manages to bite it down.

At Solomon’s silence, Asmodeus reaches a wavering hand out towards Solomon, expertly painted nails catching the light. Solomon does not flinch back, too proud of his status to move--Asmodeus stops inches from his chest, before he clenches his hand into a fist and pulls his arm back. 

Solomon cannot promise he wouldn’t have ripped Asmodeus’ nails from their beds should the other have touched him.  

“Is this part of your attempt to work your way up through the ranks of Hell?” Solomon asks, exasperated--it would be foolish of him to not know of Asmodeus, the insouciant, flirtatious sorcerer who has charmed his way through much of the Devildom’s upper echelon. Asmodeus blinks at him, before he laughs. 

(Asmodeus has a laugh like tinkling bells, and Solomon refuses to acknowledge the sound isn’t wholly unpleasant.)

“There are much easier ways to work my way up than by seeking a pact,” Asmodeus says, filled with innuendo, and Solomon tilts his head to the side, wondering how mad Diavolo would be if he just killed a human out of sheer annoyance. 

“Your Prince of Hell,” Asmodeus begins, and Solomon’s eyes glint dangerously in warning, as if daring Asmodeus to speak ill of Diavolo, “He’s trying to bring peace to the three Realms, isn’t he?” Solomon blinks, before nodding stiffly, interest piqued. 

“My brothers and I are some of the strongest sorcerers in the world right now. My oldest brother, Lucifer, could find a way to charm the King of the Devildom himself should he put his mind to it.” Asmodeus is drunkenly praising his brother, Solomon wants to roll his eyes.

“Then perhaps I should go make a pact with Lucifer,” Solomon says loftily. Asmodeus merely grins back, and waggles a finger with his other hand on his hip. 

“Lucifer would never make a pact with a demon. He’s too proud to give anything up in return.” 

“And you aren’t?” Solomon can’t help the soft snort. 

“I’m not so proud that I’ll turn away the kind of power you offer for something as pointless as my soul,” Asmodeus shrugs. Solomon stills, the offer mildly exciting. 

“It is a bold act to readily offer up one’s soul as payment,” Solomon begins, wondering if he should add ‘suicidal’ to the ‘idiot flirt’ to his mind’s profile of Asmodeus. Asmodeus tilts his head to give Solomon another smile, dripping with all the charm of his previous ones, but there’s something more there. A fervor that Solomon might have missed amidst Asmodeus’ flirtation, but unavoidable now that the other is loosened by drink. 

“We’ll see. But in the meantime, with however much time you higher powers grant me,“ Solomon might have laughed at Asmodeus’ higher power jibe, were it not for his interest being held by the ambitious glint in Asmodeus’ eyes, “...there’s some hell I’d like to raise.” 

How curious. 

-

-

-

Obviously, he says no. 

Asmodeus calls for him many, many times. As they do not have a pact, Solomon isn’t required to answer, and he takes malicious delight in turning them down. Unfortunately, as a Lord of Hell, Solomon doesn't get to completely avoid the other’s presence. More often than not, Asmodeus has somehow sweet talked his way into all of their important events in the Human Realm. 

Solomon is revolted to find that some people find him… charming. 

However, when Solomon feels the curl of someone’s magic around his wrist, he hesitates before banishing the tendril. Instead, he lets the tendril swirl in his palm, brings his nose down to sniff at the magic. 

Usually, Asmodeus’ summons feel like a song; haunting and sickly sweet. Tonight, it sounds like a whimper, and Solomon’s inherently wicked nature stirs in interest. Iron, salt, the stench of death, of suffering that sings to Solomon. He allows the magic to take his hand, and it carries him through the realms.

-

Asmo casts a slim, striking figure in the center of the dark room in his fitted black suit. The glass bottle of human liquor has fallen to the side, dark liquid spilling onto Asmodeus’ carpet. Asmodeus does not look like he cares, does not look anything like the provocative, teasing sorcerer he occasionally crosses paths with.

Ah. So it finally happened.

Asmodeus’ arm stretches out between them, blood dripping from his clenched fist over Solomon’s seal burned into the floor. Solomon’s breath catches at the beauty of it in the flickering candlelight, all of his senses sizzling at the barely contained wildness of Asmodeus’ magic. Asmodeus, with his red rimmed eyes, the smears of eyeliner and mascara dirtying his face--he can taste Asmodeus’ pain just by parting his lips to the air. 

It calls to him. 

For the first time, Solomon touches Asmodeus; delicate, clawed fingers curl around Asmodeus’ bloody hand. Solomon wants to pry open Asmodeus’ hand, lavish his tongue to the wound he’d find in the other’s palm; he settles for pushing his thumb on Asmodeus’ wrist, feeling his quickened pace. 

“What are you looking for, Asmodeus?” Solomon asks, quiet, as Asmodeus’ blood drips onto his own hand.

“Immortality,” Asmodeus says, and Solomon can’t help the incredulity in his voice.

“Really?” 

“No, but it will have to do,” Asmodeus sniffs, full of young, brazen gusto--but Solomon is old, and knows that willpower will only get Asmodeus so far. Solomon cannot help but think of Asmodeus’ younger sister, still warm in her grave. 

At once, the confirmation settles in his head; Asmodeus is a fool. The words do not leave his lips. Instead, he steps closer. Asmodeus watches him with stunned wonder, obediently letting Solomon open his fist. 

“Very well. I swear myself to you, Asmodeus.” 

Solomon brings Asmodeus’ hand to his face, presses the bleeding, open palm to his cheek. His lips part, tongue flicking out to lap at the wound. Solomon allows the shiver to run through his body at Asmodeus’ powerful blood, lashes fluttering at the sensation. 

“Your soul for my oath, until death takes you.”

Asmodeus’ eyes do not leave Solomon’s, even as he nods. 

“If death takes me,” Asmodeus says, his fingertips skimming across the heights of Solomon’s cheekbones. 

It is almost too easy. 

Asmo’s perfect skin will break under his teeth, Solomon will suck the marrow from his bones, and his soul is an assured delicacy. No matter how far Asmodeus reaches for his goal, there is no way he will be able to achieve what no other human has before.  

But… Solomon thinks, a wicked, undeniable pleasure curling low in his chest… What if he does? Asmodeus, with his bright eyes and soft, loose curls--could he achieve the impossible? 

Solomon realizes that he would love to see Asmodeus try. 

How curious. 

“I expect great things from you, Asmodeus.” 

“Likewise, Lord Solomon.” 

-

-

-

Solomon should have prepared himself for this, but honestly, how the hell does one prepare for someone like Asmo? From the beginning, he should have never expected someone like Asmodeus to act as predicted. Solomon should have just never made the fucking pact in the first place.

Mere moments earlier, Solomon had been overseeing the renovations for the grand ballroom in Diavolo’s palace--and now, he squints up at the ghastly human sun. 

“Solomon~,” Asmo croons, and Solomon--with all the patience he can muster to not immediately assume his demon form and tear apart this entire godforsaken beach--looks down at him. Asmo flutters his eyelashes at him from over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“You cannot keep doing this, Asmodeus,” Solomon stares down at the bottle in his hands, absolutely furious--but Asmodeus tosses an amused glance over his shoulder at the other. 

“Solomon, please, call me Asmo,” he purrs, and Solomon’s response is immediate.

“No.”

“I’ll stop calling you for things like this if you call me Asmo?” Asmo grins. Solomon gives him a glare that says he clearly does not believe him, and Asmo pouts. 

He touches his forehead, the center of his chest, his left, then right shoulder, kisses his index finger, and points upward, “Promise!” He winks. Solomon’s jaw nearly drops at his audacity. 

“Now come on,” he says, pushing his glasses up to obscure his face and presenting Solomon with his pale, bare back, and whines, “I’m going to get sunburned, Solomon,” Solomon looks back down at the sunscreen in his hand. 

Damn the pact, Solomon is going to kill him. 

-

-

-

“I summon you, Solomon--” Asmo’s voice is a whirlwind in his ears, as it drags him through the world.

“What now, Asmo, I’m bus--” The sharp retort dies on his lips the second Solomon answers the summons, hit with the sudden, unmistakable stench of burning flesh. 

“Lend me your power, Solomon,” Asmo begs, desperate, and Solomon’s eyes widen at the tears in his eyes, the blood dripping from his split lip. Curled up on the floor, his older brother Lucifer is staring at Solomon with sheer hatred in his eyes. 

“What are you doing, Asmo,” Lucifer snarls, but it’s not as intimidating as it could be when Lucifer starts to choke up blood. Asmo scrambles over, leaving his own streaks of blood on the floor after him. He holds his older brother close, hands pressing against a growing dark stain on the other’s midsection.

“Shut up, Lucifer, just shut up,” Asmo laughs, hysterical, “You can lecture me later.” 

Solomon breaks his gaze away from the two brothers, turning to face the center of the room. A blond man stands in front of a terrifying monster of a devil, hands dripping with his angry magic as he tries to stop the devil’s approach. Repulsive, Solomon thinks, the acidic scent of the human’s magic sickening him more than any amount of human gore could. 

“What are you doing here?” Solomon asks the demon, and the blond man swirls around to face him.

“Who--” The blond says, but Solomon does not give him a second glance, stepping forward to stare down the beast, seemingly frozen in place with a strange purple glow around it. It snarls mindlessly, lost to its base desires, struggling angrily against the invisible restraints. 

“Did someone summon you?” Solomon asks, hand running up the ugly, marred scales across the front of its draconic features. 

“We didn’t. They did.” The blond man spits, and Solomon sees the barely distinguishable form of bones and viscera in a pile nearby. He sighs; typical humans. 

“Die with the damned, then.” Solomon says.

The devil screams as it dies, and Solomon feels nothing. 

-

-

-

“This… this is not the way it should be,” Asmo stares down at the carnage in front of him, eyes obscured by his long curls. Satan has long taken Lucifer to a healer, and now it is the two of them amidst the smoldering room.

“And how should the world be, young Asmodeus?” Asmo flinches at the words, frowning at Solomon. 

Another moment passes. 

“Different. Not this.” Asmo sighs, gestures at the blood. Solomon is surprised to see a hint of Diavolo in Asmo’s expression. Briefly, Solomon wonders if there are any of their other personal quirks that would mesh. He quickly shuts that down, lest some bastard higher power be listening. It would be his own personal hell should the two ever become acquainted. 

“I see your eldest brother is not happy about our pact.” Solomon muses, boot kicking idly at a charred piece of rubble. 

“Probably just upset I got to do it first,” Asmo laughs, but Solomon is not so sure. There’s still a tremor to Asmo’s movements, a distrust in his eyes at every dark corner. Silence lingers between them, now that Asmo is not speaking to fill the space. 

Asmo’s search has seemed to bring nothing but misfortune, a friend would be concerned; Solomon is… not that… but… 

“Perhaps you should give up on your quest, Asmo,” Solomon does not quite know why he says it, but it comes out regardless. 

“I bet you’d love that. How boring would that be?” Asmo sniffs haughtily, one hand combing through his dirty curls, “I’m not getting any younger, now am I!” 

An unknown emotion paces in Solomon’s lungs--his hand presses on his chest, startled by the unfamiliar tightness. Asmo blinks, and looks at him, expressive eyes big with something that resembles concern. The very thought is laughable to Solomon, but Asmo leans over to nudge him with his shoulder before he thinks about it any longer.

“Come on, help me burn the rest of this place to the ground.” 

-

-

-

“My lord,” Solomon says, trying to mask the dawning horror from his expression, “Surely, you aren’t thinking of--”

“Seven of the most powerful sorcerers this century, all of whom are highly regarded in both human and Devildom hierarchies for my exchange program? Why wouldn’t I?” Diavolo grins, fist pressing against his cheek as he props up his head. The profiles for each of the seven lay splayed out in front of Diavolo, and Solomon’s dread grows at the familiar wavy curl on one of the photos. 

“Are you not excited to see Asmodeus again?” Diavolo drags out Asmo’s page from the pile, and pushes it towards him. Solomon bites his cheek to stifle the grimace, opting for a neutral, hopefully believable smile. Asmo’s cheerful face grins up at him, as well as a long list of the other’s accomplishments; the list is sizable, and if Solomon weren’t so damn horrified, then perhaps he would have maybe felt a spark of pride. 

“You could say that,” Solomon grits out, but Diavolo is already rattling off another round of orders for Barbatos. 

-

-

-

“Asmo, it wouldn’t do for you to get eaten on your first day,” Solomon laughs, but there’s an annoyed twitch to his eyes. Asmo reaches out to tug Solomon’s tie from the jacket, and steps closer to examine the color. The glance he gives Solomon through his thick lashes as he does so is irritatingly impudent, but it still stirs a wicked heat in his lungs. 

“Isn’t that what you’re for, darling?” Asmo hums, before deftly tucking the tie back into place, and patting him on the chest, “I prefer your turtlenecks.” Asmo sighs, putting his cheek in his hand as he looks over Solomon. One of his brothers calls his name from across the hall, and Asmo’s gaze snaps to them with a wide smile, waving his arm in recognition. 

Asmo turns back to Solomon, reaching a hand out to cup Solomon by the cheek. Solomon does not flinch, has never flinched, but he’s never been pleased by Asmo’s touch. Asmo tilts his head, gives Solomon a coy smile that Solomon supposes others may find attractive. 

“I’ll see you around, Solomon.” Solomon brings his hand up to brush against where the ghost of Asmo’s touch still lingers. 

This… will be a trying year, Solomon sighs.

[malereader-inserts]

If Not For You

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Cersei Lannister x Male!Targaryen!Reader Summary: A tale of what if, a tale of being loved like one should be Word Count: 1,461 A/n: This is a complete AU and suddenly Cersei is nice-ish, what if Jaime becomes the rude twin whereas Cersei becomes the considerate one? 

“(Y/n) is a fine young lord.”

She hears that way too often that she’s resorted to scoffing, she was promised Rhaegar and comes betrothed to the second son. It wasn’t that she wanted the prince soon to be king, but she’s seen how pretty Rhaegar was, a fine prince of twenty.

“Be glad, sister dearest,” Jaime murmured, “At least (Y/n) is around our age.”

Age didn’t matter to Cersei, so be it that she was thirteen and the prince was seven years older. Cersei could tell that there was a bitter tone in Jaime’s voice, she paid no attention to it when she was more focused about being married to the middle child of the dragon children.

She did not know what you had looked like, all she could think that you were probably the least attractive man in all of the realm. She hadn’t heard tales of you in war, though there were few, she didn’t felt there was greatness to be bestowed to you. 

She was very bitter about everything, she was promised Rhaegar.

And yet, when she stood at the front of her home standing by her father and her two brothers she hears you coming from the distant, grimacing at your boyish behaviour as she could hear a melodic laughter in the wind. Then, in came you in her view. 

You were quite the man.

Riding in upon your black horse, your white hair sharp as snow with vibrant violet eyes that could glare daggers if need be. Your hair was long, like traditional Targaryen men, carefully braided. She noticed the dragon sigil on your armour and a charming smile. 

She scoffs.

She hates to admit, you were prettier than your brother, more handsome more attractive. Perhaps, it was a blessing that you were closer in age, two years age gap as she found herself smiling at you when you approached her.

Jaime doesn’t miss her rosy cheek as you kiss her knuckles before addressing the rest of the family.

“Your grace,” Tywin addressed you, causing you to look over to him, Cersei noticed how the first time in years her father looked thrilled.

You were tall, there were muscles under your armour - she could tell, fifteen years old and you were already fighting battles were as Jaime was rolling his eyes, you weren’t special.

“Ah, Lord Tywin!” You greeted, nodding his way before looking at the boys, “And you two just be Jaime and Tyrion.”

“Yes, your grace,” Jaime nods, standing at full height, he couldn’t help but noticed how you much taller than him.

“I’ll be seeing more of you in Kings Landing,” You continue whilst Jaime seethes when you’re far too happy, “Your father tells me you are to join the King’s Guard once you finish rank to knighthood.”

Cersei looks at her twin then back at you, she adored Jaime. She wanted to continue to adoring him, but one look at you he was nothing compared to you. So, when she sees her twin look at you with a glare, that you’ve promptly ignored, she tries to hate you.

She really does, but with your kind nature, she can’t help not to.

“I despised you.”

“I’m aware,” You say, half asleep and slowly falling further asleep before jerking away when you felt a hand slap you on the chest, “What is it, dearest wife?”

“I was speaking to you,” Cersei hisses at you, she leaned her chin against your shoulder, “I despised you.”

You crack open one eye open to stare at her, to find her smiling at you fondly. Her fingers softly dancing across your scars from the rebellion. The rebellion had been a few months and you had been married to Cersei for three years now. Your father murdered by her brother whilst you and your brother Rhaegar fought side by side at the Trident.

The two of you had participated in the murder of Robert Baratheon. Leaving Rhaegar to be king, he had a coronation and suddenly he was a single father nursing the child of Lyanna Stark. News had spread fast about Lyanna and Rhaegar, the secret marriage and the son that was born. 

“No, you didn’t,” You softly say, bringing your hand to move a fallen hair back behind her ear, “Your brother despised me.”

“He was jealous,” 

“You were rude,” Cersei smacks your forehead, “Ow!”

You wince in pain at the violent hit, rubbing your temple as Cersei rolls her eyes before placing a soft kiss where she had struck you.

“Is that how you treat your wife?” She teased, interlocking her hand with yours, “What will happen to Jaime?”

“Rhaegar wants him executed for treason,” You explained, as Cersei’s face falls flat, “I have convinced my brother that Jaime should be sent to the wall, I don’t think I have ever seen your father more relieved by the news.”

“My brother has never been smart,”

“Perhaps,” You hummed, as Cersei rest her head against you as you bring your arm around her, “Though, between us, murdering my father was the smartest thing he has done.”

Cersei starts to sink in relaxation to your touch, your finger tracing circles on her upper arm. She never expected to fall in love with you.

“I love you (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

“They’ll get married, won’t they?”

You looked over to Cersei, many years had passed and yet she was surprised to find herself still infatuated with you. You turn to look at her with a gleam in your eyes. 

“Aegon and Daenerys will learn to love each other,” You murmured, looking at the children who were both five years of age, “Family tradition, to keep our line pure.”

Rhaegar looking dishevelled after looking after Aegon whilst you were responsible in aiding the parenting of your younger siblings Viserion and Daenerys.

“And yet, you’ll be sending them to Essos? Why?” Cersei asked, questioningly.

“Rumours of Roberts’ brothers, Stannis and Renley are trying to declare war on our house. Sending my two younger siblings to Essos and Aegon to the North is the best course of action,” You says, looking over to her, “And you will find yourself home, back on Dragonstone.”

“I will not be-”

“Cersei, my dearest lion,” You speak with affection, caressing her cheek, “you may not be a damsel in distress, but I need my wife and my children safe.”

“And you’ll be here?” She asked, thumbing the fabric on your shoulder, “With your brother?”

“He’s my brother and we are stronger together. I fear Jaime may come back to pledge loyalty to the Baratheons and-”

“Kill him,” Cersei answers, without thinking before nodding her confirmation, “My brother would do anything to steal me away, I rather stay with you, I’d do whatever you want me to.”

“Then protect our children,” You insisted, a boyish grin she had learnt to love appearing, “Little Jaehaerys is very excited to be an older brother.”

You turn to cast your eyes to see your son, a year younger than your sister and his cousin, play with the rest of the children. You looked at Cersei, pregnant with your second child.

“The baby will be a princess,” You announced smugly.

“Perhaps, I’ll be allowed to name her this time.”

“Jaehaerys is a better name than Joffery,” You retaliated back, disgust evident when you say the name she had suggested. 

“Myrcella,” Cersei had decided as you smile, nodding.

“Princess Myrcella Targaryen,” You say, fond of the name, “You’ve convinced me with your common names.”

“It’s not-!” She paused to see your teasing smile and amused eyes, “I wonder why I agreed to marry you.”

“You didn’t agree, you were forced,” You reminded her, “You’re lucky I had my eyes set on you when you visited Kingslanding when you were twelve and I was fourteen. Imagine marrying Robert Baratheon and act as a common whore.”

“Then, the realm would be a different place,”

“Aye, my lion, aye it will be,” You agreed, before tugging her to talk to your brother, “Be merry before we part, be in the children’s lives before we go back to our duties.”

Cersei looks at the dark-haired heir and her sister-in-law, who was very beautiful even at the age of five, playing with her little boy whilst the other middle child, Viserion was sitting about glaring. She takes in the moment and found herself incredibly lucky.

She would hate to think about a different ending to Robert’s rebellion, she was happy where she was. She wanted power when she was younger, but she found herself content - she may not be queen but she was a princess by marriage, and that was good enough for her.

“I love you, my dragon.”

“And I love you, my dearest lion.”

[erinelizabethh]

Caught Your Eye | Leon x Reader (7/?)

Summary: Your little sister is the newest, most promised challenger to beat the region’s Champion. Leon is said Champion. You just have a Pikachu.

A series of drabbles following yours and Leon’s friends-to-lovers slow burn… years in the making.

1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter Seven: Must Be Fate

Chapter Summary: Perhaps fate is something to believe in.

Fate is a concept, an idea to believe in rather than accept as fact. To believe in whatever was to come meant a sense of control in one’s life, and God forbid if this world wasn’t so unpredictable. Perhaps the word is meant to comfort you, to justify the shudder in your bones at the fast-approaching return to Postwick. In fact, Sonia can go on about how she dawdles in it all, only entertaining destiny when she sees fit which is… exactly the topic of conversation upon your first step in Wedgehurst territory. With your Rotom phone tucked in between your shoulder and your ear, heat traveling to a phone increasing in stupidity the more you couldn’t figure how to navigate it, you raise a shoulder to drag your duffle bag toward the column of your neck while kneeling to bring your able Pikachu into your arms. “She must be right excited to see Leon in the flesh again, huh?” Sonia inquires in fact, expecting proof of delight in return.

The girl famous for her peach strands of hair and her brilliant knowledge of the region remains your friend through passing texts and selfies with your now ex-best friend, and his now rival Raihan. Unlike everyone else, she’s that rock that is dauntless of abilities that near rival a ghost type, choosing to spend moments of her day checking in with a, “What’s goin’, love?” despite your schedule too full to respond to left messages. Sometimes if the nostalgia is too much to bear, she recalls of outings the four of you had however rare, taking quick detours on routes home because you finally caved and relished in the way the sun’s rays traveled in the waves of the lake beside her home. Sometimes she’ll sign off her messages with a plead for you to return through the excuse that Leon and Raihan are down to one bookworm to tease; she misses a friend, a fellow girl, someone whose contact means more to her and less to you as the years are counted and lives are left behind.

No one’s fault but yours, you suppose, it was difficult to detach from the village girl in you to make residence in the city. Contacts of old classmates nonetheless are found upon the habitual scrolling through lists of numbers foreign, all besides your mother, Lydia, and Sonia having to deal with a fleeting existence never picking up. If only any of those people fortunate enough to hold a spot in your memory even bothered to call, but again, no one’s fault but yours. With a few updates every day from Mum about the abundance of Butterfree’s among her plants as if you care and a few more from Lydia mentioning a girl she’s crushing on in University as if you have any right giving her advice, your phone is dry with your recent calls your mentor and boss as the only source.

At this point, you’re not exactly positive why you bought this device.

Your Pikachu nuzzles her rosy cheeks into your forearm, appreciative of that buzz she experiences when her owner gives her attention. “He texted me back a, ‘yep’ when I told ‘im, I mean Sonia… he’s definitely a bit cross with me— oh, but the hat—“

You step outside Wedgehurst Station to find a crowd of people in your vision, and the very man invading your thoughts as the object of their affection. They ogle over the cape that dresses him so proper, aware of how contagious his smile can be, salivating at the amount of patience required to fully tame his winning Charizard. There are sparkles in the eyes of each aspiring trainer and parent searching for a distraction, asking him of favors to amuse them just a little longer. You’re somebody that doesn’t deserve paying mind to, except Leon has to perk up at your voice and turn to meet your entrance home, successfully diverting the attention from him and his most trusted Pokémon to someone who wanted none of that. The inhabitants of Wedgehurst turn heads at Leon’s change of behavior and the source, and you lower your phone from your ear as your gaze shuffles at every direction but the one where he is in your direct line of vision.

… And there it is, in your periphery. Your gift to him.

No one walked the world without finding his name on a billboard, his face plastered in hyperbolic documentaries of how the boy from nothing rose to the top and became the Champion of Galar. The world knew he was loved, yes, that he packed up his wardrobe and set out at the age of sixteen, yes, but did they know how good he was at remembering birthdays? His mother would tease him in passing by posting a picture of him when he was a teenager and the population would go mad and exclaim about his braces but were they there during his woes of them being too tight, too fragile? Would anyone have cared if he wasn’t a winner, if he wasn’t always a winner? So many questions and yet, you would think being twenty-three, all the time in the world would be offered to you to answer them.

You followed Leon’s journey to twenty-four through the eyes and ears of others, lips flat as you witnessed him having the time of his life. Lydia, with the occasional snapshot of his rare visit to his home, would encourage a grin from the adult when he found no reason to frown. You would scroll down Hop’s feed, his stan feed if you will, claiming that one day he would be Champion just like his brother, analyzing the stream of Leon’s many battles and victories. Then, if you were courageous enough, the next tab would be reserved for his mother’s profile—still kicking, still tagging your mother in articles about gardening. The occasional upload of Leon’s pose would show up if you scrolled further, with Mum sparing time to comment about how his signature stance kind of looks like a Charizard which was kind of the point, followed by the demand for him and you to meet up in Motostoke. Of course, your name in bold was to be your limit, and you proceeded to exit the application to bang your forehead against your phone two, three times.

His appearance is just as in the pictures, except you’re now able to put a voice and a soul into them. The boy, now a man, can’t seem to avert his gaze from what he deems is the more pressing matter at hand, his cheeks losing its color the more he eyes the color that fuses within yours. His hair reaches yours in length, undoubtedly as soft as silk, and perhaps one day there would come a time where he would allow you to braid it in a design that accentuates more of his silent gratitude. You squint to find the regret in his eyes, maybe contempt, only finding dandelions that sway in the lovely, constant breeze. There is no difference to be found in him so far but the growth on his chin and the tufts of hair that far outmatch yours. Rather than spare his many glances at you, gaze aligning so perfectly with the other, he now follows you to a height stunted just because your body isn’t built to be tall. However, although the number of contrasts is small, they are too significant to ignore, and you can’t help but notice that there can be no return to a boy strife with the burden of crooked teeth and expectations. Leon, although no longer a best friend, remains but a spirit meant to haunt you because no one can seem to let him go. You, unfortunately, are no different.

You, however, appear to have been obscured from both families’ requests for selfies or photos of your new flat, only a comment of how you’re welcomed at your new position, partaking in research that no one cared to find out about, so it’s quite a shock to him to find you seven years later under a new light. Quite some time has passed since yet the years have been kind to you, he’s sure. You deserve it, of course, but maybe you don’t; some part of him has to remind him of what you did to him. Regardless, there exists weights beneath your eyes, no doubt an accumulation of years of studies, yet you compensate for it with lips soft and glossy. The second that transpires before you shield your face from the sun, your irises shimmer underneath it’s rays and he’s thrown back to when the two of you were teenagers and the sun set over the horizon at just the right time when you were just in the right spot, and he’s as mesmerized then as he is now.

Boy, does he hate it.

There is something you haven’t seen from him since you departed: a frown upon his lips that deters those who find solace in his abiding smile. Eyebrows narrowed if only for a moment, the relief of those that know a caricature of him returns when he puffs out his chest, permitting you from defacing his image by forcing out a, “Welcome home,” despite, you know, not coming back for seven years. The smile that reaches the surface is unsettling to you, as behind it there are cracks in which you are the cause, imprints of memories better off forgotten because you made them undesirable. You return the favor in contrast to Pikachu squirming in your grasp, settling with the familiarity of the boy before her. His Charizard simply huffs out his dismay, gaze observing the tremble that crawls up your skin and threatens to make an already horrid situation much worse. He flexes his growth from the cheeky yet promising Charmander to the inviolable Charizard the world knows, all because you can’t seem to stop breaking his owner’s heart. No difference found, as perhaps his form of discipline during your many study dates alone with him really was punishing you for the inevitable.

Lydia and Hop are in the back of this mess, balanced on top of their toes to witness the commotion over the shoulders of passersby, murmuring under their breaths of the lack of timing that warrants such a situation. The two grown, yet not grown enough, graduates jostle shoulders to get through to the both of you, and it is then that you notice of the increasing similarity in behavior and appearance between Leon and his sibling. Of course, there’s no time to worry about it lost, as Lydia grasps your free arm and grants you a favor after years of you slacking as her sister and her confidant. When she drags you from the fray, calling for Leon over his shoulder of her intended whereabouts, you’re not at all occupied with the intimidation of unwanted attention and off handed clicks of the tongue.

Out of all the caps to wear…

Out of all the trinkets and parting gifts that would remind you of home…

You wear mine.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

His Shooting Star - Chapter Four

Here’s the next chapter! Tell me what you think! :)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Summary: Captain Bucky Barnes loves being a pirate. He’s good at what he does. He feels as if he’s found his purpose. And yet…still there’s something missing. Until you. You in your wonder and shine, appearing as if out of nowhere. Will Bucky and his crew be able to help you find your way back home? Or will the captain decide he can’t let his newest treasure go?

Chapter Four

The festivities were overwhelming, unlike anything Y/N could have expected. She had tried to fit in and enjoy herself. However, her ears were pounding with the sound of laughter, music, and conversation. Her eyes couldn’t take everything in fast enough. People were dancing, children playing, lovers and friends were having moments that were probably meant to be private… Her skin practically pricked with the sensory overload. 

It was so much, too much in fact.

So Y/N had managed to slip away. She wandered the halls, hands fiddling with the bangles that she couldn’t bring herself to remove. They felt like a part of her. It was strange and the only thing  she wore that wasn’t “inappropriate”. Gnawing at her lip, she peeked inside one of the various rooms inside the castle, breathing a sigh of relief when she founds books instead of people.

A library — finally, something she can use. 

Her fingers ran along the spines of various works, some fiction and others non. It felt rough beneath her smooth fingers. Every bump and ridge, the engraved titles, were all something that left her thinking about the contents inside. But she was looking for something specific. Rounding the corner and walking down another aisle, she allowed herself the smallest of smiles when she saw she had found the astronomy section. The idea of avoiding Captain Barnes and finding the answers on her own was much more satisfying than having to rely on catching him in a good moment.

“Captain Barnes, I have to say, your guest is a rather peculiar woman.” 

Y/N’s hand hovered over a scroll. Her whole body tensed, freezing as the new voice caught her attention. They had a similar accent to Shuri, but it was deeper, obviously a male speaking. Peeking between shelves, she could barely make out Captain Barnes walking with someone else. The two appeared to be the same height, but she saw that this new person was dressed in silk robes. She stepped further down the aisle, trying to get closer and hear more of the conversation.

“I was hoping you’d tell me where she’s from, Your Highness.”

Highness? He was the king of Wakanda? Shuri’s brother? She wandered closer, biting the inside of her cheek. Why were they talking about her?

“I was under the impression your leaving Wakanda would mean I wouldn’t have to solve anymore of your problems, old friend.”

“I wouldn’t call her a problem.” He faltered, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear. “I’m supposed to be going to Stark soon, T’Challa.”

“And do you wish to leave her behind? Or are you hoping for an explanation to her appearance before crossing paths with Tony?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Y/N felt her heart beat loudly in her chest. She had only been on the ship for a couple days and it seemed Captain Barnes couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Was she really such a burden?

“Shuri seems to like her, Barnes. Are you sure it isn’t your own emotions making you the slightest bit paranoid?”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he turned to face T’Challa. The man had been one of his newest friends, but also one of his closest. The two seemed to understand each other well and Bucky appreciated having someone to talk to that wasn’t one of the three nosey S’s — Steve, Sam, or Shuri. Leaning against the nearest table, he crossed his arms and found himself staring at the aisles of books. He remembered when he’d lock himself away for hours just pouring himself in the books.  

T’Challa watched him with a small smile, knowing very well that the captain had become extremely guarded over the years. Bucky hand picked his crew, chose who to trust and to what extent, and didn’t take kindly to people just showing up. The man had experienced a lot of pain and because of it, kept his circles small. Still, T’Challa had yet to see Shuri warm up to someone as quickly as she did Y/N. “I know you don’t like when you’re so easy to read, but you are so easy to read, Barnes.”

He scoffed, raising a brow as T’Challa sat next to him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are a guarded man and allow yourself to be victim to the past.”

Bucky tensed at that, hands flexing and jaw clenching. “That’s not it.”

“No? Shuri seems to think so.”

“Your sister enjoys coming up with ridiculous scenarios. That doesn’t mean they’re true.”

“Then why does the idea of having that young woman on your ship terrify you so much?”

There was silence and Y/N started to wonder if she was too far to hear or maybe Captain Barnes simply didn’t feel the need to explain. The man was still a mystery and she wasn’t sure if she had the time to figure him out. Not along with everything else. Leaning closer, she barely caught a glimpse of his boots and T’Challa’s sandals. She let out a small huff and leaned against the shelves, wincing when the scrolls knocked together and caught some strands of hair. 

“Did you hear that?”

T’Challa straightened as Bucky pushed himself off the desk. He instinctively moved in front of the king and earned an amused roll of the eyes. T’Challa was more than capable of taking care of himself and had trained as a warrior before taking the throne. However, Bucky was protective and a fighter. Loyal to a fault.

“We have a party full of guests, Barnes. Perhaps one of them wandered in here?”

Y/N tensed at the thought of either of them finding her in here. It certainly wouldn’t do well to get caught if Bucky was trying to kick her off the boat. He’d probably assume that she was spying on them. Walking back the way she came, she rounded a corner and tried to keep silent.

However, that plan quickly failed when she back into a wall. A squeak escaped her as she looked up, not recalling there being a wall there. And she was right, there wasn’t.

But there was Bucky’s chest.

Jumping away from him, Y/N tried to bolt, but was quickly stopped by Bucky’s hand grabbing the crook of her elbow. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” His voice was rough, a low rumble that made her heart beat faster.

“I — Uh — I —“ Her voice was lodged in her throat, dying in whimpers as she ducked her head behind her hair.

“Barnes, you’re scaring her,” T’Challa warned. 

Almost immediately, Bucky’s face softened and his grip relaxed. He released her, dropping his hand. He tried not to think about the tingling burn that traveled up his arm, mostly relieved that Y/N didn’t notice how his fingers flexed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It — It’s okay,” she stuttered, earning a wince from Bucky. He hated making people scared o him.

T’Challa stepped forward, a hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder. “Y/N, is it? What were you doing away from the festivities?”

“Looking for…” She glanced at Bucky and hesitated. 

“Is this about the maps?” Bucky already knew the answer before Y/N even had to give it. He hadn’t realized it was so important for her to see them.

“You know about this?” T’Challa looked to Bucky, raising an eyebrow. He noticed the wince and smirked. “If that’s the case, then you can help her find what she needs. I have to return to the festivities and my sister before she decides to do something a little too crazy.” Patting Bucky on the back, he offered a smile to Y/N. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss.”

“Thank you.”

T’Challa left without another word, leaving an awkward silence between the pair. Bucky shifted awkwardly as Y/N fiddled with her bracelets. Neither knew what to do or say, but one of them had to make the first step. Clearing his throat, Bucky scratched the back of his neck and silently wondered why he was struggling to such an extent. She was just like any other girl. There was nothing different about Y/N.

Except for everything Shuri had already pointed out.

“You’re looking for astrological maps, right?” Bucky walked past her, passing a couple more aisles. Y/N watched him for a moment before she hurried to keep up. 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t realize how important it was when you first asked.” Bucky shrugged. “And that’s my mistake. It’s something I want to make right if you’ll let me.” He didn’t want to see the surprise she no doubt had. He didn’t want to let his curiosity about her opinion get the better of him. The last thing he needed was to get distracted. Picking the fourth aisle on his left, he told her, “This is where you’ll find everything about the sky.” 

“Everything?”

“Well, everything Wakanda has discovered.” Bucky chuckled as he passed the large tombs of books. “Normally I would suggest Asgard for these sorts of curiosities, but we can work with what we have. So…” Taking a slow breath, he finally looked at her. The small smile curling her lips made him…happy? “Anything specific in mind?”

Y/N smiled, practically glowing in the low light. “All of them.”

Meanwhile…

Asgard was a peaceful place. It held itself in high regard for such a feat. However, outside forces weren’t so loving towards its existence. People believed the kingdom to be selfish, butting in and trying to take over in areas it did not understand. It wasn’t until Odin started giving his eldest son more responsibilities that things began to change. Still, it was deemed more of a chaotic kingdom. Especially when the royal brothers were such a quarreling pair.

“Loki, must you let your father irritate you so?”

The mischievous prince looked up from his spot on the windowsill. Sly smile in place, he offered the smallest of shrugs before going back to his book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother.”

“Really? Is that why you refused to meet with him again?”

“Maybe I’m just not interested in wasting my time.” He looked up at her, eyes shining with that familiar glint that she hated to see. “May I get back to my book?”

Frigga pursed her lips, shaking her head. The one thing she always said she wanted was for her family to get along and it seemed they would take every step necessary in refusing to do so. “Loki —“

“My book, Mother.”

He didn’t bother looking up again, signaling his end in the conversation. Loki never had an interest in meeting someone halfway. It took too much effort and more often than not, it hurt him in some sort of way. When he was met with silence for longer than expected, his gaze shifted to peer just above the pages. Frigga had magicked her way out of the room. 

Sighing softly, Loki rose to his feet and shut the book. Really, he had been reading the same sentence over and over again. Frigga’s concern always put him on edge. He didn’t like disappointing her. Setting the book on a nearby desk, Loki smoothed out his hair and thought about what she had said. Should he really be taking those steps simply for the sake of her happiness?

“Prince Loki, I presume?”

Loki spun around, knife appearing out of thin air and gliding through the air without a moments hesitation. It missed its target by a breath, instead piercing the painting just next to her. He raised an eyebrow, eyeing her carefully as a smirk curled her lips. 

“You practice magic.”

“You practice trespassing.”

She plucked the knife off the painting, flipping it in her hand. “The window was unlocked. You were basically inviting me in.”

“Is that right?”

She wandered around the room, dark skin and mass of black hair unlike anything he’d ever seen. Her armor was foreign, something different from Asgard and yet he didn’t recall any neighboring kingdoms with similar armor.

“If you kill me, you spark a war with Asgard.”

She laughed, beaming and head thrown back, as if she couldn’t believe he had said that to her. “I never said anything about killing you,” she told him as she approached one of the shelves. Picking up a bottle of liquor, she used his knife to slice off the neck. “No, actually, it’s about a job.” She took a swig of the contents, wiping her mouth as Loki grimaced. The woman seemed to have no class whatsoever. 

Grimacing and deciding it was best to look away, he asked her, “Why in the name of Asgard would I want a job? I’m a prince for Odin’s sake —”

“Do you remember the Grandmaster?” 

Loki paused, turning to face her fully. She, this woman, worked with the Grandmaster? He placed his hands on his hips, asking her, “Last time I recalled, the Grandmaster and his employer still owed me from the last time I helped them.”

She took another swig. Chuckling, the woman jumped on his bed, crossing her legs at the ankles.“Is that so? Well,” another swig.  She leaned forward. “I was told to promise you the title and riches you were promised last time. And since I see you practice magic, I can also promise you more. Power to back the little tricks you have up your sleeve.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, his arms dropping to his sides as he walked closer to her. “You’re on my bed.” He paused for a moment before asking, “And besides, why would I believe anything you or the Grandmaster has to say?”

Brushing him off, she added, “It’d get you out from under Odin’s thumb. Out from Thor’s shadow too.”

He watched her for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Valkyrie,” she told him, smirking before finishing the last of the liquor. The empty bottle fell to the floor.

He chuckled and shook his head, looking away from her. She was amusing, sure, but he couldn’t be that easy to ready. Could he? Sighing softly, he already knew the answer. Loki met her gaze. “So what does he want?”

“For you to find someone.”

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Thirteen)

Words:  2199

Warning: Usual JW-verse violence, minor swearing

A/N: This series is two chapters away from the end with a possible epilogue posted later.

Previously: Alliances have shifted and choices needed to be made. The Underworld needed to be changed. After all those years of being controlled by someone, Rozaliya encourages you to think about what you personally want, not what you think was best for others. You decided to speak with the Adjudicator to set the record straight and stop Sokolov.

-

With Aaron tied down on a chair with two guards watching him, his sister was pacing in the hallway trying to make sense of his motives. She was hurt and furious, understandably so, due to the fact that her own twin brother hid things from her and sided with the enemy at the promise for power.

You went to speak with Caius, requesting for more supplies before releasing him from his Marker, trusting his words that he will help her regardless. You told him of your plan to see the Adjudicator, at John’s distaste, but insisted that it needed to be done. John was excused and told to wait in the hallway after that, much to his annoyance like a boy put on time out.

“The Adjudicator will be at the Continental,” Caius said, taking a drag from his cigar as he sat at his desk, “some of my people say that Sokolov is honing in on that hotel, so you better act now.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Caius.”

“Of course. And I will get information from Mister Kostas as soon as he wakes.”

He smirked, tapping cigar ash into a tray. For a moment, he became lost in his thoughts, humming to himself as his blue eyes trailed the smokey tendrils rising towards the patterned ceiling. He took another drag and let out a long exhale.

“I’m sorry… for the way things have been,” he said, “If I had known the depth of her madness, maybe things would have been different. I guess that’s how it is with family. You can love them, even when you hate them, blinded by the blood that binds you to them. I suppose that’s what Miss Kostas is going through now.”

You nodded. “Family can get complicated, as I have learned in the past few months,” you said, “Alexa is very talented. I think she’d be good here.”

“I think so, too, and I promise that I won’t be obsessed with keeping her here, like my sister did with you. Like how I had almost been with you. Whether you manage to get out of this or not, just know that you’re always welcome here.”

You raised an eyebrow and teased, “No ulterior motives?”

“I always keep my word, Miss (Y/l/n),” he said holding his hands up as if to say he was an open book, “Now I do believe that you’ve left the Boogeyman sulking right outside my office.”

When you walked out of the office, you didn’t see John immediately, but you heard his rumbling voice down the corridor. You made your way down and found him crouched in front of a familiar furry friend.

“Cerberus!” you said excitedly, rushing over and dropping to your knees in front of the precious pitbull. He waggled happily, raising himself on his hindlegs so he could reach your face and kiss you. You squeaked, pulling him off of you and rubbed his belly as he rolled around. “Who’s a good boy? You’re the goodest boy ever! Yes, you are!”

John watched with amusement and adoration at the two beings that he cared for the most in the world. There was a heaviness that had lifted within him along with the dark veil that had been hanging over him. It felt like his veins were pumping with a new purpose, not just revenge or grievance.

You felt his gaze on you and looked up. “What?” you asked, your hand lazily rubbing at Cerberus’s sides.

“Nothing, just looking,” he said with a small smile.

You smiled back, wanting to stay with your boys at the theater, but you knew that you needed to leave. “I have to go,” you said softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

“I’m going with you,” John insisted.

You sighed, standing up. Cerberus flipped over and sat between you two as John rose to his full height as well. “You’re not allowed in the Continental.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t be outside.” He released your hand and wrapped his arms around your waist. “We have to do this together.”

You rest your head on him and nodded. “Okay, you stubborn man. But at least I’ll be doing the talking.”

-

The Underworld was filled with criminals, but never in such a long time had it been in chaos, leading syndicates to turn their back on the Table and break the rules. It was a world that was to be kept secret from regular civilians, the Table’s influence reaching politicians, world leaders, and any authoritative power they could get their hold on to keep it that way. At the rate that Sokolov was going, it was too much for the civilians to ignore and causing so much scrambling for damage control.

While the Elder preferred his solitude and safety in the desert, there was no way he could ignore the situation any longer. For the Elder to call the Adjudicator only confirmed the reality that this faction that had been so small had managed to influence enough of other factions, big ones that had their own sway in the world, and convinced them to even dare go against the Table rules. It brought to the surface all these issues that the Table could have sworn were minute compared to the big picture or issues that they didn’t realize existed.

Because of this, it was no wonder that after the Adjudicator had gotten off the phone with the Elder, Winston himself had called them and advised to lock up in their room as a disturbance erupted from the lobby. Their eyes widened and quickly complied, activating the bars on the windows and barricading the door. They heard the hotel go into lock down and aimed their gun at the door.

You told John to park the bike a block away, swearing under your breath as you realized that the Continental was under attack. You shrugged your bag on and readied yourself to approach the hotel when John grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a quick kiss.

“If things escalate, I will come in there,” John said firmly, locking eyes with you and made sure you knew how serious he was about it.

“I know, and I’ll signal you if I need help,” you said, brushing your hand against his wristwatch, having installed a distress signal in your matching gadgets that had helped earlier in dealing with Aaron Kostas. “Just please don’t go off on your own to kill Sokolov. I need to talk to the Adjudicator and see if we could at least try to get the bounty off of you.”

“I doubt they will,” he grunted.

You sighed, pressing your forehead against his, closing your eyes and relishing in his presence with John doing the same. It took a lot of effort to pull away before heading off. 

Sneaking into the hotel during lock down and going through Sokolov’s men would probably be the most tedious part than actually speaking to the Adjudicator. Winston and Charon had done well to secure the place so that no one could get in or out. Which means, you would have to get in through unconventional methods.

You climbed to the roof of the nearby building, doing quick stretches and occupying your hands with the grappling hook while you catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry, Winston,” you said under your breath as you shot the hook at the structure that opened to the roof of the Continental.

Latching the other end securely to your side, you pulled out a small staff and used it to carry yourself to the Continental roof. Once you landed, you cut the rope and made your way towards the doors, using an acidic spray to weaken the hinges and the door knob before using the small staff to break them. You pulled off the door and, as suspected, it was heavily barricaded as well. You gave the same treatment to the metal bars, muttering another apology to Winston.

Using the stairwell to reach the lobby, there was no encounter in sight until you had reached the lower floors. You stopped on a landing as a flood of voices filled the stairwell a level below you and were quickly spreading out. You activated your small staff and stood still.

Two men were climbing up towards you, too busy chatting to notice until they were halfway up. They frowned in confusion, one of them turning their head to look for the others before turning back to you with a smirk, raising his gun at you. Before he could shout at them, you kicked his stomach and struck his companion with your staff, stunning him with electricity. The others heard the commotion, but you were ready.

It had been a while since you fought this many people at once, especially in a cumbersome space like the stairwell, but you used it to your advantage. Eventually, you reached the lobby where the majority of the men were camping out. You dug out your smoke grenade, pulling the pin and timed your throw so that it would activate as soon as it landed.

As they scurried about to find the source of the grenade, you turned off your staff and used the opportunity to strike. Their guns exploded in their hand as soon as they fired, causing them to scramble as you attacked through the smoke.

The last man was knocked down as the smoke cleared, a pile of unconscious bodies littering the lobby floor. Charon emerged from a door hidden in the wall, having made sure that the staff was safe during the lockdown. He seemed to sigh in relief once he saw you, his eyes scanning the men and saw that they were still breathing.

“Are there any more?” you asked him.

“The rest were dealt with by the other patrons while we were securing the place,” Charon said, walking towards you, “I would ask how you got in, but I’m afraid to.”

You smiled sheepishly. “That’s best dealt with later. I’ve been meaning to speak to the Adjudicator, but I didn’t realize that Sokolov would attack this soon.”

“Yes, hopefully that is the only wave that they will be sending. Winston is currently calling the Adjudicator down, so we can all talk then.”

-

John was restless as he waited outside of the Continental, hiding within the shadows and out of sight of those that want his head. Peace and quiet never lasts forever for him, though, as he sensed movements around him.

He grimaced, glancing at the hotel before swinging a leg over the motorcycle and starting up the engine. He knew he promised that you would confront things together, but he would have to break it just this once.

The moment he hit the streets was when the chase began. He recognised a few of the Bowery Boys scattered about the streets, hiding under piles of blankets or sitting down with a cup in their hand, but they made sure to keep an eye on him as he passed. Sokolov’s vans were following him close behind, their heavily tinted windows rolling down, revealing assault rifles trained on him.

John cursed under his breath, searching for a way to get them away from the main streets to avoid any stray bullets hitting innocents. He wove his way through the concrete jungle, getting further and further away from the Continental and away from you. He dodged as much bullets as he can before pulling up to one of the windows to wrestle the rifle out of the man’s hand and using it against them, making them swerve.

He leaned forward and sped ahead, counting on the vans to catch up with him. Their engines revved as they try to hone in on his bike. As soon as they were a good distance away, he hit the breaks, shifting his weight to balance as he skidded to a halt, the vans zooming pass and making his hair whipped around. He then shot at their tires and watched as they swerved wildly, crashing into a lamppost and street parked cars.

His veins were pumping with adrenaline as he swung himself off the bike and stalked towards the vans, ripping the doors open and finishing them off one by one. Once he finished the last one with his hidden blade, he wiped the blood off using their jacket before walking back to the bike.

John could go back to the Soup Kitchen, finish up the remaining Bowery Boys and Sokolov’s men. He could go and track Sokolov himself and finish him. He could do all those things, but there will still be people out there wanting to kill him.

The engine was still running as he straddled the bike, his head tilted back towards the sky as the smell of rain hit his nose. His pocket buzzed with a new message, pulling him away from the small moment of stillness.

“I’ve spoken to the Adjudicator. They’re willing to make a deal, but you need to come over,” you sent, “They promise not to shoot you.”

John shook his head before turning the bike around and made his way back to the hotel.

-

Taglist: @venusgothic @weappreciatepower @anita-e-taylor @mikaneonox @sparrowsparrow @introvertedmegalomaniac @tomhardy41 @xmisssnowwhitex @red-pill-blue-pill

[gypsophiaa]

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don’t repost! reblogs appreciated (・ωｰ)～☆

meet Stella, my Blood Donation / IkeVamp Persona! more detailed description under the cut!

she's not that different from my Cradlesona, but i did change some stuff that are half true irl to make her fit well in the ikevamp universe. i mean i wish i can speak and understand several languages so i downloaded duolingo skskskksks

go make your own Blood Donation! Here's my lil reference you can use, I added some more details to fit in the story :) also, a big thanks to @trulipan for the inspiration of using the character screen!

*disclaimer: the character screen belongs to Cybird, the character info and sprite are fan made :)

Basic Info:

Nicknames: Stella, Sol (Leonardo), Peaches (Arthur and Comte)

Birthday: October 21

Age: 25

Height: 156 cm

Nationality: Filipina

Blood Type: A

Physical:

Eyes: bluish purple

Hair: gray platinum with bluish tips, short and wavy

Accessories: golden hoop earrings, sunflower pin (a souvenir she bought before arriving to the musee)

Features: beauty mark above her left lip, a fainter mark on her right cheek

Illnesses: sleep deprived (?)

Social:

Species: Human

Previous Occupation: Graphic Designer

Occupation: Right-Hand Woman (Assistant)

Relationships:

Arthur Conan Doyle, bickering writing buddy. They often get mistaken as siblings and it peeves them both. Stella dislikes his flirty and teasing personality a lot but she’s more than willing to lend a hand if he starts to run out of ideas (which is NOT her body). He loves to tease her and get her on her toes, which resulted to Sebastian lecturing him quite often. Ironically, they’re close friends

The Count of St. Germain, father-figure. They met when she accidentally dropped her sketch notebook. He complimented how she smelled like peaches and started calling her like that (which Arthur caught wind of and started teasing her for it). He spoils Stella rotten with chocolates, satiating her sweet tooth as much as possible to keep the smile on her face.

Leonardo da Vinci, language mentor. He was impressed when she understood what he was saying in Italian. Then tested her with Latin, German and Spanish. Stella was ecstatic to learn more languages causing his sly advances go over her head (much to everyone else’s relief). She organizes his room as best as she can as thanks.

Theodorus Van Gogh, mortal enemy but not really. He would always refer to her as “Arthur’s little sister” and it would often lead them to constantly bicker. However, both of them share the addicting love for pancakes and will eat it at any time of the day, this was one of the few times where they get along very well. Other times usually involve making Vincent happy and safe. Secretly, however, they look out for each other like actual siblings.

Sebastian, meme buddy. They converse in memes, confusing everyone else, when not too busy in work. She would often ask him historical facts about the others and appreciates him going the extra stretch (she likes listening to his history fanboying). He would also save her from Arthur’s teasing and Theo’s yelling, but sometimes he just stands at the corner and listen to them go mad because he finds it amusing.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, radio (I don’t know how to call it HAHAHAHA). Stella would intentionally pass by near his room just to listen to him play the piano, reminiscing the time where she had a violin. It had always been her dream to hear a live, professional recital of one of his pieces, so hearing him composing new ones just beyond a door made her very happy. Mozart knows she’s listening.

William Shakespeare, neutral but very afraid. Stella avoids him as much as possible, his words are very confusing and deep but she tries her best to understand and remain kind.

Napoleon Bonaparte, older brother figure. He knows her unusually strong peachy scent would attract others and he dedicated himself to protect her. She's probably the most casual one to wake him up — Stella earned the free slap card when he tries to kiss her as thanks for endearing his habit.

Jean D'arc, stranger. She hopes to get to know him better. She would always see him with empty eyes and worries for him. She would often secretly pray for his happiness. Jean knows this.

Osamu Dazai, laugh pill. Though she often gets startled when he enters through windows out of nowhere, its followed by laughter she couldn't control. He likes seeing her laugh and it encourages him to never use the door (much to everyone else's dismay).

Isaac Newton, neutral. They don't speak much. Stella would smile his way whenever she sees him but often receives averting eyes in response and a mutter of hello. She would sometimes lightly hop in Arthur's teases about apples.

Vincent Van Gogh, lover. Stella admires his works since forever and to see him alive and well in person brought tears to her eyes when she realized that everything happening around her was real. Their relationship grew gradually, taking soft steps together until they realized they were in love. She would always sit near him when he's painting at the garden and play with his pet raccoon. She melts when he smiles.

Personality: Artistic and bubbly, she finds beauty in everything. Very expressive, but she keeps a facade when she's sad and it is quite difficult to pin out. She's more than willing to help anyone with whatever she can do. She is easily pleased with the simplest things and gets overwhelmed with gifts. She's usually quiet but if you spark a conversation with her it can go on for a long while, she likes to listen to stories and experiences. She loves to learn different languages and cultures. Can be smart then a dumbass the next moment. Underneath the innocent face is a sultry attitude that she's mastered to control and portray to catch people off guard — though she gets flustered easily when complimented.

Before the Visit to the Louvre: A fresh graduate from BA Multimedia Arts, she earned enough money from commissions to travel to famous museums and relax before starting her work on an international news media site.

Likes:

Chocolates

Adobong Baboy (A Filipino dish)

Pancakes

All the pets!!

Flowers!!

Dressing up!!!

Warm colors

Modern day jokes

Performing

Fruits

Dislikes:

Arthur

Skirt chasers

Being belittled

"Arthur's little sister"

Not knowing what is happening

Being stagnant (not doing anything)

Washing the dishes

Skills and Special Abilities:

Can understand several languages because of her constant travelling, speaks Spanish and Filipino very fluently.

Paints

Writes short stories

Can act like a completely different person if needed

Can go for three days without sleep or sleep for three days, no in between.

Inhales food like Kirby, her stomach has a void somewhere and she gets full very rarely.

Plays the violin (when she was a kid, very rusty today)

Paired with:  Vincent Van Gogh

Life in the Mansion: On a daily basis, she helps Sebastian in his duties. Sometimes, she can be found talking business and assessing deals with Theo. She can also be seen in her room rereading Arthur's first manuscripts and editing them. When taking a break, she's sitting by the garden and having tea with le Comte, or watching Vincent paint. She would drop by the library an hour before bed to have a quick foreign language lesson with Leonardo.

Other Info:

She sings when painting very softly, especially when its raining where the pitter patter can drown out her voice.

Cries a lot in her sleep, mostly because of overthinking. She's gotten used to a life where she would be happy for one moment and devastated the next.

She bites. Metaphorically and literally. Arthur got hurt because of it one time.

Bribed easily with sweets — to an extent. She's not that stupid.

Always screams when surprised from behind while quickly whipping around to slap whoever jumped on her. She got a terrible childhood history with those kinds of surprises.

Slaps people by accident when she gets all panicky and will constantly apologize for such a rude habit.

Secretly very horny and has earned a PhD in self control. (Really makes you think that she's actually Arthur's long lost sibling)

She can't smell her peach scent which drives her nuts. A lot of people had told her that since coming in to the mansion. She's never even had peaches before.

The scent grows stronger after sex and bathing, which she found odd because none of the products she uses has peaches as an ingredient. She even uses a different perfume every time but the peach scent still somehow overpowers it.

Vampires are the only ones who can smell the scent, human don't.

Never touch her notebook. Ever. She's insecure about whatever notes and doodles she has. She's hidden it deep in her closet that even she herself forgets.

When questioned why she "doesn't look like a Filipina," she answers with deadpan eyes and a bored look. "We were colonized by the Spaniards for 3 centuries. My grandfather is Spanish." She's tired of being asked often.

Has acted for school plays all her life.

Laughs at everything.

Cries when mad, it adds annoyance to herself.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Spring

[PART TWO OF AUTUMN]

NCT Jaehyun x Reader & Jungwoo x Reader Characters: Jung Jaehyun, Kim Jungwoo, OlderBrother!Johnny Seo, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Ten), & mentions of Lee Taeyong Summary: Running away from your problems never helped anything, esspecially if it can come back and haunt you.   Warnings: Infidelity, unhappy marriage, bad relationships, angst, typos prolly, unanswered questions, don't ask for part 3 cos i wont make it lolol, etc. Words: 5k+

A/N: this is prolly NOT what yall wanted HAHAHHAHAHAHA kinda not sorry but this is what yall get. Hello, i hope you enjoy @justacinnamonroll-lover

NO MORE PART 3. THIS IS THE END. BYE. HUHUUH

---

"Hear me out though!” I chuckled as Johnny pulled a pained, slightly amused face. “Listen, I don’t care if you already bought two sky diving tickets! I’ll say it cleary, I am afraid of heights, there is no way I’m doing that.”

I chuckled at this ironically tall buffoon and tread after him and his long legs, “But oppppppppaaaa, remember, you loooove me.”

My older brother made a sound, “Die with your love.”

I pulled my head back and chuckled, “Wow, okay, violent, uhmmmmm.”

Johnny laughed and slowed his paces down. He turned to me and huffed, I nudged him on his shoulder. “Oh, come on, you know you want to.”

“We’ll see how much I want to after you buy my lunch,” Johnny spoke.

“Ooooh, bribery,” I grinned and fiddled with my fingers, “I’m down. What did you want?”

“Oh, no, no, no, the key is finding something that I want, then, then we talk.”

I laughed at the challenge proposed by my brother. “Okay, deal.” I outstretched my arm and we shook hands.

The two of us then strut down the large lobby of this hundred floor building our father owned, ready to head on out for some grub. 

At this point in time, Johnny was about to become the CEO... but we all know he doesn’t because of his car crash...

“Mr. Seo,” a voice called from a far corner. Then there emerged a man in a suit similar to my brother. He had a milky white complexion and bright eyes. When he flashed a smile, my heart skipped and my lips mimicked.

Johnny slowed down not one bit and it made it clear to me that this man was simply an underdog looking to buy some of his time. And so I caught my brother’s arm and raised my brows. He turned to me and did the same. I then shrugged and pursed my lips.

Lucky for the man though, he caught up with us before we could exit.

He airily called for my brother again, and this point, Johnny finally noticed him, or rather, finally stopped ignoring him.

“Name?” Johnny blurted, turning to the dimpled man who smiled brightly in relief.

“Jung Jaehyun,” he nodded, “we spoke on the phone, about the expansion.”

For a moment, Johnny looked clueless, up until a light bulb flashed over his head. He begins to chuckle, “Ahhhh, I remember.” Johnny chuckles, “You have such a shocking proposal, Mr. Jung.”

Mr. Jung faintly smiles, “May I offer you to talk about this matter over some lunch?”

“Ah, it’s not me you should entice,” Johnny turned to me, “but who I already have plans with.”

My brows quirked up at Johnny’s words and the man turns to me. I purse my lips and hold out a hand for him to shake, introducing myself.

“Ah, Mrs. Seo--”

“Ani. Ms., Ms. Seo, his sister.” I corrected. Johnny looked at me, a grin forming on his lips. He knew full well my selfishness with his work and how I would readily reject this man. I cleared my throat, “What you want to talk about must be important, but... I have not met with my brother in months, so please  understand.”

Mr. Jung’s jaw slacks, “Ah... ye. I’m sorry. Surely family comes first before work matters. I mean, we work for our family, right?”

My lips curve into a smile at his words and Johnny pats his shoulder, mumbling something about calling him later. As my brother and I make our way to his car, I turn to Johnny fondly, “He’s nice. I like him. Make sure to really call him, oppa.”

Johnny whipped his head to look in my direction, as if I just stole a year of his life, “Ya! What do you mean you like him?”

I rolled my eyes and got into his car. He followed. “I just like the fact he has filial piety.”

Johnny scoffs, “You think he’s cute?”

I chuckle, “Yes, but I think you’re cute too.” I tease, moving to pinch his cheeks. He scolds me in annoyance and starts his car after securing his seat belt. I fasten mine as well.

“Stay away from him,” he says lowly, “I won’t approve.”

I chuckle, “Ye, ye.”

---*

"That's how you met your husband?" Ten scoffed at the story I spoke. His wife however had the exact different reaction.

"No, no, no, don't tell me. After that you end up meeting at some some coffee shop near your brother's building and end up having lunch together." Ten says with a sour expression as he feeds his daughter some more baby food.

His wife clicks his tongue at him and Ten shrugs.

A small hand tugs on my shirt, "Can I mwake moor chowate sanwishes?" my son asks, chocolate spread marking his chin and cheeks. I chuckle at him and nod, picking up a tissue and wiping his face.

"What about Jungwoo? How’d ya meet him?" the woman asked, placing a watermelon in her mouth.

"I already told you how I met him, babe." I spoke, making Ten snap at me because of the pet name. I laughed at his cutely jealous reaction.

"Oh, ye, ye." the woman nodded. She clapped her hands. "How did you end up together then? With Jaehyun, I mean."

I breathed in deeply, turning to the blue sky above me. 

Honestly, I am so thankful that I the world allowed me to have these two as my landlord. If they hadn't been here with me all this time, I would've probably caved and gone crazy.

I turned to my baby boy, happily sitting on a picnic mat, victoriously munching on the slices of bread he assembled, looking out to the fields of green grass before him. He doesn't deserve that kind of pain, having a mad mother.

"It was at an auction. Jaehyun bought the painting I wanted at an unimaginably high price." I spoke. 

Ten clicked his tongue. "What a waste of money."

His wife gave him another look.

"Honestly, I agree," I offered, "he tried to be romantic by buying it then giving it to me, obviously in exchange for a date. But all I thought of him was haughty at that point. I only agreed because, well, I was getting such a beautiful painting at such a cheap price."

"Pah, it still worked though," Ten pointed, "you ended up marrying him anyway."

"Yes, but obviously, it wasn't the painting!" the woman yet again scolded his husband.

I chuckled, "It's not."

---*

"You're as impressive as you are beautiful," the man spoke smoothly, dimples showing. I broke into a bubbly laugh, "Wahhh, that's not very much. But I'm sure it worked on all the ladies."

We continued walking on the damp sidewalk; the rain that has passed made it glisten, similar to the stars out at this moment. I slightly jump as a few raindrops fall on my head as we pass a tree. The man beside me laughs.

"Wow,” I turn to the man who chuckled at me, “how gentlemanly of you, Jung Jaehyun."

"No," he speaks firmly, grabbing my wrist. I look at him, heart fluttering, not caring as to why his reply was such, and confusing. Jaehyun smiles widely, "you are beautiful, Ms. Seo."

My breath gets caught in my throat. 

"Are you afraid of calling me by my name?" I speak lowly. 

It'd been nearly a month since the day he bribed me out on a date, and I was drastically slipping on this slippery slope to his heart. Yet, he has never called me anything but miss Seo. It slightly worries me.

"I am not afraid of anything," he says and I want to scoff but he continues, "except maybe losing what we have made in this month..." Jaehyun trails off. My hear pounds when he ends his words by speaking my name.

"Mr. Jung," a foreign voice calls for far behind me. I turn around and see that there was an old man that came out from Jaehyun's building, the one we were currently in front of.

I move to pull my hand away from Jaehyun's, but he tightens his grip which lands on my palms. I turn from his fingers to his eyes, his expression was no longer the same. He gently pulls me behind him.

"It's late Mr. Moon, you should be at home," Jaehyun speaks clearly.

The said man clears his throat and moves closer to us, "The vice president said you went home."

"Taeyong wasn't lying," he said, voice mixed with annoyance and slight anger, "I am on my way."

I wasn't the only one who noticed this. Mr. Moon lets out a sigh, "Mr. Jung, please rethink their offer--" "I already told you what I think about their lowly offer." Jaehyun scoffs. "Don't speak to me again outside my office."

With that, Jaehyun stormed away, pulling me along with him.

He brought me to his car and I sat in the front seat. I turned to Jaehyun as he started his Lambourghini, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what, sweetheart?"

I was taken aback by the sudden pet name he used. My breath hitched and it was audible enough that he turned to me. Jaehyun smiled.

"Act cold to everyone?"

He placed one hand on the wheel and another on the gear stick. He released a chuckle, "Don't you think that it's the other way around?"

---*

"Jungwoo!" Ten's wife spoke, "tell me about him."

"Ya, you are so nosy." Ten scolded this time around.

"Wae! I can ask what I want!" she raised her voice then turned to me, "but you only have to answer the same way.” 

I chuckled at her expression and it was then that her baby started giggling at the faces her father was pulling.

"He was my happy pill. He brightened my day whenever I felt like I was on the brink."

---*

"I fucking told you, Jungwoo," I snarled, shoving him away, "I don't want to fucking go ice skating."

Why couldn't he take a hint? I didn't even want to see him today because I had seen Jaehyun being flirted with by some young woman in his office. I was bringing him lunch, but all that went into the trash, literally, I dumped it in the trash.

Now I was in a horrible mood.

Jungwoo called me and said he wanted to take me somewhere. I refused, telling him why, but he insisted, saying he could cheer me up. And now just as I knew I would, I was now taking out my anger on him.

I expect him to lash out on me at this point, but instead he chuckled and cooed, "Ah, baby, you're so cute when you're angry." Jungwoo took my hand and pulled me with me, "Kaja, the rink awaits."

The next thing I knew, I was on the ice, latching on Jungwoo for dear life, "Ah, you didn't tell me you sucked at ice skating."

I growled, "Why do you think I didn't wan to fu--" "Ah, ah, ah," Jungwoo pulled way from me, "You want me to pull away?"

"No, you asshat!" I called, gripping him tighter.

"But I will if you don't clean your potty mouth."

I huffed but complied, "Please don't let me go."

Jungwoo blinked rapidly, lips twitching, breath hitching. "Please, what?"

My brows knit quizzically, "Please... sir?"

Jungwoo threw his head back and pulled me slowly into his arms, "Baby," he spoke airily, peering down at me, "I'm not that kinky." 

He smiled, and pushed hair behind my ear. He then caressed my cheeks and licked his lips, "Jungwoo. Kim Jungwoo. Remember my name."

---*

"Okay, come on," Ten said, carrying Autumn in his arms, "Time to go home."

I turned to my son who was tumbling in the grass nearby and called him. "Come on. Picnic time is over!"

He turned to me smiling widely, "I had swo mwuch fun! Can we pwicnwic toime again?"

I walked over to him and brought him into my arms. "Of course baby, anything for you."

"Can we bwing appa next toime?"

I froze where I stood and turned to my child. He looked at me with his big eyes and my heart started to hurt.

"Maybe."

He took my words gleefully.

After cleaning up, we went into the car, and drove back home, to our noodle place.

"Oh, look, it's only eight am! It looks like we have to won't open late today." the woman in the front seat beamed. "Ah, I'm excited to cook some ramyeon."

"Darling, you always cook ramyeon. Everyday, to be exact."

"Yes, but why would I tire if it's something I love to do?"

---*

"Tell me, why would I get tired of helping you?" Jungwoo muttered softly, crushing me against his chest. I poured my tears out against his shirt, feeling my neck get pressed on by guilt.

"I'm crying to you over another man, my husband, your rival."

Jungwoo stayed silent for a moment, and at this point, I felt scared, that maybe he realized the weight of my words and would pull away. And when he did, I started to shiver. He spoke my name and I looked up at him.

"Why would I tire of you when I am so helplessly in love with you?"

My heart stopped for a second and then beat like a hummingbird.

Jungwoo wiped a tear rolling on my cheek and looked at me in the soft expression he always did. He let out a soft chuckle and examined my face, "I have seen you at your worst, when you're red in the face, puffy eyed, and runny nosed."

I turned away from him and attempted to turn away. He held me in place and took my chin, moving my head to look at his. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight of his sweet smile.

"Jungwoo--"

"Don't say anything if you're trying to change my mind." he said. "Whatever it is you are facing, I will be here to face with you. And in the same way, I hope to face every other thing you will in the future."

---*

When we arrived at the shop, I helped my son get down from the car. He hopped off cheerfully and turned to me with a smile. I smiled back at him. He moved to go inside, up until he stopped and shouted, "Appa!"

My heart dropped.

The boy ran off inside and I quickly followed after. I called his name as he rushed inside. And just as the boy said, there stood a man there, face wet with tears, eye red.

The boy ran to him and wrapped his arms around his legs, "Appa! Did you cwome for pwicnwic toime?"

The man looked down at the child and I gulped, "What are you doing here?"

"I-" his voice cracked and then he crouched down to the floor, looking the boy in the eyes. The younger version of the that teary eyed, suit clad man, smiled and introduced himself. He then raised his small hands and wiped away the tears streaming down from his face. "Do you haw a booboo?"

The older man let out a chuckle and turned away from the boy, standing up.

"Is he... mine?"

"Of course he is. Would I lie to my own son?"

The man took a step back and knit his brows, "How do you know?

"The same way you're here. It's in your bones... you feel it." I spoke. The boy pouted and tugged the man's jacket, "I can help wiv booboos."

The small person was unmistakenly his, even if he couldn't believe my words. Anyone can see that my son had his father's eyes, nose, and lips.

"If you had known, why did you leave?" he said, voice slightly angry. "Why didn't you go to me?" he added, softly.

"I didn't know I was pregnant, until I was already so far out of reach. And when I did, I figured you don't deserve the trouble."

"Trouble?! He's my son!" he raised his voice. "He's the son of the woman I love... how... how could you think that?"

"I also figured," a tear fell from my eyes, "that if it wasn't trouble, you'd find us, because that's who you are... and I have never stopped loving you."