#or at least that's an option. As always the tags are only ever a suggestion. I was kinda imagining an ex villain falling for the sweet one

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - Part 2

Characters: demon brothers, fem!MC and flirty! fem! NES (MC x NES)

How’s it gonna be , Intro – Part 0 , Part 1 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: rejection, abandonment, women flirt hard from my experience but this is mild i think, suggestive but also mild, lession 16 mentioned, MC is not stupid and deserves to vent, no comfort in this one folks, my favouritism is showing

A/N: Jesus Christ guys. On another note, for those who couldn't be tagged: please check if you can fix the problem! I don't mind sending you a private message, but it's easier this way :)

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It was a surprise for Lucifer, somehow, seeing someone like MC so content with someone like NES. When one smiled, the other frowned; sweet and spicy; beauty and brawn. The brothers had naively thought having MC share her room was bound to cause problems, but how wrong they were.

Four months into the second year of the program, the two girls had already merged their closets, creating a unique style with their combined clothing. They’d also decided to use one of the beds for storage, sleeping together in the other. The first time that happened and all of them had to face Belphie’s resentment, Lucifer had feared for NES’s safety and even considered confining his brother in the attic again. Thankfully, and surprisingly, the younger demon had opted for the pettier option: ignoring MC altogether and treating NES like a rotten piece of furniture.

He was probably hoping for MC to feel guilty enough to completely ignore NES and come crawling back to him, but, as different as they were, both humans quickly became two peas in a pod, always walking hand in hand, shoulders brushing while exchanging secrets that no one else was allowed to hear.

Overall, the whole situation had become a recurrent topic in the brothers’ groupchat and, while Lucifer wanted to remain as nonchalant as ever, it was impossible to hide his opinions on the matter.

He wasn’t happy.

None of them were.

.

.

Mammon wanted her gone.

He wanted her gone now.

Who did she think she was, stealing MC’s attention from him and acting like she didn’t know what she was doing? Sitting next to her at every meal, massaging her scalp during movie nights and waking her up at odd hours because she liked ‘those late night talks’ in the kitchen?

What type of talks were ‘those’? MC could have them with Mammon; she didn’t need NES! She had him, after all. Her first man!

“Well, I’m her first woman then” answered NES the time they argued over who was gonna sit next to MC in class.

Who did she think she was?!

“Are you okay, Mammon? You seem upset”

And there she came, the bane of his existence, already dressed up in her RAD uniform and dragging MC by the hand. Both of them looked tired and Mammon realized with primal horror that no noise had come from the kitchen that night.

“Why are you so tired?! MC!”

Her only answer was a yawn, so NES gave herself the right to talk on her behalf; but not before handing MC some food for breakfast, of course. 

Although half of it was burnt, Mammon still hoped MC would like it.

“Oh, we were up for a long while, barely slept at all. Right, MC?”

She nodded, happy under the pampering, but her eyelids were half closed and she didn’t seem to notice she was eating her favorites. 

Mammon stared at them in shock and distraught before sparing a glance at Lucifer, who was too occupied checking his DDD and drinking his coffee to pay attention. Had he really looked at him, though, he would’ve seen a twitch in his brother’s forehead and a stillness in his eyes; he wasn’t reading at all.

“Then maybe MC and I could take a nap after class”

They all looked at Belphie, who had started to show an unusual interest in going to RAD those last few days. He was smiling like a kid in a candy store, already gawking at the idea of spending quality time with MC, or, at least, what he considered quality time.

His expression dropped, however, when MC shared a complicit glance with NES and smiled apologetically.

“I’m sorry Belphie, but I already made plans with NES”

“We’re going to Majolish” added said girl with a sly glint in her eyes “MC saw some clothes and wanted an outside opinion” 

Belphie looked downright offended, but not as much as Mammon felt. What did she mean they were going to Majolish because MC wanted an outside opinion? He was there! He was literally a model!! Hell, even Asmo would've been a better choice!

“I’ll go with you!” he announced, not asking for permission “I’m a professional, you know? You should be thankful I’m even considering wasting my time on some dumb humans!”

The youngest demon rolled his eyes, but NES’s expression briefly flickered and that was almost enough for Mammon. Beside him, at the head of the table, Lucifer sighed. 

“Do what you want, but if you end up third wheeling, that’s on you”

MC laughed, neither confirming nor denying anything. NES watched over the brim of her mug, challenging them with unsaid words.

Mammon wanted her gone.

.

.

Famine woke Beel up, like always, so he went to the kitchen, like always. It’d been MC’s turn to cook that night and he was pretty sure she’d stored some leftovers in the fridge for him. It was nice, being remembered even when she was too occupied with NES to pay them attention anymore. It brought some comfort, as well as a small smile to his face.

But much to his chagrin, the kitchen light was already turned on when he arrived, and his mood soured when he saw what was happening. Beel’s heart dropped and plummeted through his guts, deepening the black hole in his stomach. MC was leaning against the counter, creating some concoction in a bowl, while NES hugged her from behind. Both of them waved at him when he made his presence known, getting no greetings in return.

“Hi, Beel! I left food in the fridge for you!”

He wanted to be happy and thank her for the trouble, but he wasn’t able to think properly, not when NES’s face was snuggled into the fluff of MC’s hoodie, hands sneaking around her waist and disappearing under the material.

What was she doing? Should he stop her? But MC looked so cozy… not uncomfortable at all. His throat closed at the same time his stomach roared loud enough to fill the silence in the kitchen.

“Beel, are you okay?” 

“You seem upset”

MC looked worried, but NES’s words crammed his mind. She’d said the same thing to Mammon that morning wearing the same self-satisfied expression.

Ignoring his needs and his emptiness, Beel turned around and left them alone.

.

.

MC was seething. Her thoughts were a mere blurr and a sting in her throat left her unable to speak her mind the way she wanted to do it.

Was he serious?

Were they serious? Those self-righteous hypocrites! 

“We think it’s for the best, MC” spoke Lucifer like she was a child too slow to get his point.

“She’s playing with you, honey! She’ll hurt you!”

The gall. The audacity. The… ugh!

She stared at Asmo baring her teeth, never a threat to them, but a gesture so uncharacteristic of her that it was impossible not to treat the situation seriously. The common room was silent, yet MC was sure every single one of them was able to hear the violent thumping of her heart.

“We’re doing this for you”

“FOR ME?” she screeched at Belphie.

A scream would’ve made her feel better, but she guessed the high pitch got her point across good enough, her anger reaching every corner of the room. The brothers stayed silent, eyes wide open and muscles tense, waiting for her next movement. Not even when she got up from her seat and paced they spoke.

“YOU DO THIS FOR YOU!” 

“MC, lower your voice”

“NO”

Lucifer glared at her, the red in his eyes glowing dangerously. MC wanted to keep going just to spite him, begrudgingly giving up in the end. She was close to crying out of frustration and her throat hurted, so screaming would only hurt her more.

“You were the ones that insisted so much on having another human exchange student” she reminded them, stopping in front of the fireplace and basking in the warmth for some comfort, pointing to the eldest brother with clenched jaws “You said it would improve the program!”

“She’s holding you back, distracting you and using you for her own entertainment!” intervened Satan before Lucifer could speak.

“Oh, because you were so altruistic last year! Treating me with all the respect I deserved! Totally not threatening me all the time or even killing me for selfish reasons! You’d never do that to me, would you?!”

They lowered their gaze, suddenly very embarrassed, and MC felt a part of her healing. Then she saw Levi’s glassy eyes and Beel’s defeated expression. Neither Mammon nor Belphie weren’t even looking at her anymore. And she could live without Belphie’s half-hearted apologies, but not without the brothers under a pact.

“I believe this is enough, MC. Calm down and we’ll talk again in the morning”

Lucifer got up, his voice completely neutral, but his eyes pleading and desperate. He started to close the distance, but she got away, walking towards the door without breaking eye contact.

“You were so on board with this, Lucifer!”

The tears swelled in her eyes. Hot tears breaking her a little more, fuelling her anger. 

“Do you really think I’m not aware of what she’s doing? We share a room, you morons! I've lived with her more than I’ve ever lived with you!” 

There was silence again, four of them looking at her with visible pain and the other three leaning against each other.

Fuck it then.

“It’s all good and awesome when you’re the ones in favor, but when I’m the one having fun, suddenly NES has to go away?! Do you hear yourselves?! I’m so done with you thinking I owe you anything at all, let alone my fucking soul! Half of our pacts weren't even born out of friendship, so hear me out and hear me well! Get your heads out of your asses and for once in your life: LEAVE ME ALONE!”

MC walked away, closing the door at full force and leaving them behind in more ways than one.

How could they ever get over this?

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Taglist: : @stfuchaase @k1-an @meggs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006 @jonielunar @piercedddriver @cosmidaydreaming

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me angst #obey me hurt/no comfort #hurt/no comfort #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me mc #obey me oc #replaced mc au #obey me x female reader

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Teensy Little Crush

kai parker x shy!reader | requested by @luckyvampyr ; the other idea from when i asked for fluffy prompts!

summary: you have a crush on kai you haven't been able to shake for weeks. unfortunately, you're too shy to do anything about it, either. but luckily, elena steps in with a plan, and helps you win over the witch's heart.

tags: fluff, crushes, alcohol, gifts, anxiety, slightly awkward flirting, mystic falls gang (+ reader) friendship, bad planning, cooking, bad-ish childhood memories, teasing, first kisses

word count: 6.6k

a/n: this is the one i've had written for centuries & haven't been able to title. i got antsy and gave it a silly title so that i could post it 😅

You don’t know what it is, something about him just makes you giddy. Ever since the merge, he’s mellowed out immeasurably, and while he still annoys your friends, you’ve found something endearing about him. Kai, of course, is still Kai. He’s reckless, and troublesome, and doesn’t make a lot of considerations before doing things, but he’s getting better about it. He has somewhat of a grip on his emotions now, which is helping as he integrates himself into life in Mystic Falls. 

Initially, Damon assumed he’d go back to Portland after the merge, but something told you that wasn’t a possibility. Everyone knows how the Parkers grew up, either from Liv, Luke, Jo, or Kai himself. The story varies between siblings, but at least two truths in the matter remain the same: their family is tragically dysfunctional, and the coven always comes first. So why would Kai, hated by his family and his coven, return to his hometown?

Damon heaves a big sigh when you remind him of this. 

“So what do you suppose we do about him?” The man ponders out loud.

“Keep an eye on him; see how this goes. But let him figure things out here, I guess,” Elena says. 

“Ugh.”

“What other options do we have?”

You and Bonnie look over to him, and the couples’ gaze quickly follows. Kai drinks alone at the bar, scrolling his phone and bouncing his knee. He’s turned in such a way that you can see one of the dimples in his cheeks everytime he smiles. When he catches the bartender’s attention to show him something, Bonnie groans. You bite your cheek to not smile. 

“We can’t just kill him?”

“Not without killing Jo,” Elena reminds her friend. 

A collective groan now rings throughout the table, but your eyes are still on him. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the girls’ room. Drank too much at once.”

Elena’s words register with you as she stands. You then stand up, too, putting your napkin on the table. “I need to go too.”

She smiles, and the two of you leave Damon and Bonnie alone. 

You wash your hands side-by-side, and then Elena starts to fix her makeup in front of the mirror. You take the extra minute to touch up your own. 

“I can tell you have a crush on him,” she says suddenly. 

“What?” A jolt runs down your spine, and you poke your eye with your mascara brush. “Ow!”

She has the nerve to laugh. “You okay?”

“Not funny!”

“Case in point - that reaction.”

“I do not have a crush on him.”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t!”

“You’ve been watching him all night. I heard your heart rate calm when I said to let him stay here, and it sped up when Bonnie suggested to kill him. Not to mention, I can see the way you bite your cheeks to not smile at him. And don’t think I didn’t catch the glossy, lovesick look in your eyes yesterday when he winked at you from across the grill. Your heart sped up then, too.”

You can only blink at the slew of evidence stacked against you. The fact she noticed all these things and compiled a list of them takes you aback. 

“I see all, Y/N,” she jokes playfully. 

“Fine. I might have a minor crush on him.”

“It is not minor.”

“Might have a Corgi-sized crush on him.”

“I see more like a Great Dane sized crush, but okay.”

Your eyes widen. “Elena!”

She only laughs. “To be honest, I’m kind of offended that you don’t think I can read you. We’ve been friends for how many years…?” She starts counting on her fingers. 

“Okay, point made, you can read me! What are you gonna do about it?” Your tone is much more concerned than challenging. 

“What?”

“My, y’know,” you lower your voice, “crush. What are you gonna do? Tell Damon? Bonnie? Hell, Kai?”

“Of course not, that’s between us. But I think you should tell him.”

“Who?”

“Kai.”

“Oh absolutely not.”

“Why not? Because he’s a sociopath, or because you can’t approach him without blushing?”

“Elena!”

“Which is it?!”

“I don’t know! Both, I guess. Mostly the latter.”

“Well you’ve said it yourself a hundred times, he’s getting better with his emotions. Understanding them more. You could have a chance.”

“You don’t sound so certain.”

“I am! It happened with Damon.” Your eyes narrow, and she continues. “Damon was borderline sociopathic only a couple years ago, remember? When they first arrived in town, and I was with Stefan, and he wreaked absolute havoc everywhere he went. But I still developed a crush on him, and he fell for me, and I then fell completely for him, and look at us now. If you want him, the least you can do is talk to him.”

The reminder gives you hope. Maybe Kai could follow the same path Damon did. Maybe you could have something with him. Elena’s apparent support of it helps. Still…

“‘Lena, I can’t go up to him and start a conversation, or tell him that, I’m not as confident as you.”

“Then just start by talking about other things. Or start really simple and wink at him from across the bar like he does at you. Or, here’s an idea, get his attention in little, somewhat anonymous ways. Give him little gifts, or notes, or something like that. That, or Pavolv him with offering candy, and then whenever he sees you, he associates you with something sweet.”

“That sounds like manipulation, ‘Lena. I can’t do that. And I don’t know how he’d take it, either.”

“Don’t think of it that way, think of it that you want his attention, but don’t know how to get it straightforward, so you find it with other ways. Trust me, he won’t be offended. He’ll probably be elated that someone’s giving him little things. He’ll probably think it’s cute, too, that a shy girl such as yourself can’t look at him without blushing but is secretly, deeply craving something with him.”

“Oh my god, Elena.”

“Oh, stop being shy about it! If there’s anyone in this town who would enjoy the game in corrupting your shy, innocent ways, it’s Kai.”

“I’m not innocent, I’m just shy.”

“And you can show him that once you get his attention.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me anymore after finding that out?”

“How could he not like you? You’re sweet and kind, but I know you have that badass side to you, too. He’ll see it and love it the minute you show it.” She applies more red lipstick, then smacks her lips together. “And don’t forget, we’re talking about Kai, who has never been shown any kind of affection in his life. He’ll fold the minute you offer it.”

“Who’s to say he wants it from me?” You see her point, but still have doubts.

“Me,” she answers easily, “who has never seen him wink at anyone but you at the bar. Who has watched his eyes follow you throughout the grill, and watched them get heavy with disappointment when you leave. I’ve even seen him adjust himself in his seat more times than I can count.”

“What does that mean?”

“Remember that time you spilled your drink down your shirt and had to napkin-dry your chest by reaching down your shirt?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, well when I did a grill-sweep to make sure no one was watching, he was. And when we made eye contact, his heart rate accelerated faster than a rollercoaster and he had to move his legs around because something tells me those jeans were a little too restricting.”

“Elena!”

“I’m just telling what I saw! But I’m serious, you have a chance with him. Just give it a try.”

“Okay. But if it backfires, it’s on you.”

“I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Good.” 

You both finish up your makeup, then go back to your table. 

“That was a long bathroom break,” Damon says as soon as you arrive.

“We had a little girl talk. Sorry Bon.”

“No worries, we’ve been talking, too,” she replies.

“About?”

Damon answers his girlfriend. “The weasel and his wandering eyes. Watched you guys go to the bathroom, trained them on the door waiting for you to come out.”

“Where is he now?”

“Well we’ve officially entered the hour of the frat boy,” Damon nods to the clock, which reads nine p.m., “and he’s been buried in the sea of them.”

“I say we go before they start a racket,” Bonnie says. You agree. 

“Alright, time to head out. Bon, Y/N, see you tomorrow. Elena, you coming with me?”

“For a little, yeah. But I’ll be back to the dorm by eleven.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, I’m gonna get a shot to go,” you say to the group.

“Ooh, get me one!” Elena asks, putting on her coat. 

You head to the bar and order two bourbon shots.

The bartender rings them up with a smile. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, um… Can I pay for his?” You poke your pinky finger in the direction of Kai. 

“Him? With the phone?” Kai’s the only one with his phone, unlike the ten college boys crowded around him. 

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Anonymously?”

“Just don’t give him my name.”

“Okay. That’ll be $21.30 total. $5.33 for your shots; $15.97 for his. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Friend of yours?”

“Kinda.” The sudden blush on your cheeks tells him all he needs to know.

He chuckles. “Got it. ‘Kay, you’re all set.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

You and Elena take your shots before heading out into the cold. You part ways, divided into two at the door, and send her a wink that you’ve already started on her little plan. 

Around the same time you leave, Kai decides he’s had enough of the noise. He waves the bartender over to pay, but furrows his eyebrows at his words.

“You’re all set.”

“What?”

“Someone paid for your drinks.”

“Who?”

“Asked me not to say their name.”

“Point them out.”

“Sorry man, already left.”

Kai looks to the door anyway, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of someone outside it. He sighs, out of luck. 

“Did you recognize who it is?”

“Seen ‘em in here before.”

“You’re not gonna give me anything?”

“Scout’s honor not to tell.”

Kai glares, but then ultimately gets up to leave. He’s determined to find out who it was; what their intentions are by doing such a thing. If he doesn’t, it’ll itch at him all night. 

Three days later, Kai has yet to find out who paid for his drink, but when he enters the grill that night, the bartender offers him a cheesy smile.

“What?”

“First shot’s been paid, what would you like?”

“What? Who?”

“Scout’s honor not to-”

“Okay, okay, don’t say it again.”

“What will it be?”

“Gin,” he replies, then immediately begins to look around the restaurant. 

Nothing’s out of the ordinary in terms of customers. The usual group of geezers and their beers are in one giant booth. A couple early frat boys play pool in the corner. The unofficially-named Mystic Falls gang occupies the table to his left, and Tyler and Matt chat on the other side of the bar. Kai eyes every person individually for hidden answers within their eyes. Granted, most of the people in here would probably dodge his gaze, but he still tries. 

After a while of searching, he grows frustrated. The bartender chuckles, then receives another glare. 

“Still looking?”

“Would be easier if you’d tell me.”

“Maybe they don’t want to be found.”

“Why not?”

The man shrugs. 

Kai only seems to get more agitated at that. His jaw tenses, but instead of pushing, he just orders another shot. 

Meanwhile, you watch the interaction carefully from your table. When Bonnie leaves for the restroom, you poke Elena’s arm. 

“He looks mad.”

Elena spares a glance. “He’s probably just confused,” she whispers.

“What are we talking about?” Damon asks, also whispering. 

You wrinkle your nose, but give Elena a nod to let her tell him. 

“Y/N’s finally acting on her little crush.”

“Eugh,” the man reacts, “on Kai?”

“Mhm.”

“Not just gonna let it die out? Give it a week or two, I promise, it’ll die out.”

“Damon!”

“And why are you encouraging this?” He asks his girlfriend.

“Y/N could be good for him. She’s been curiously crushing on him for weeks, it hasn’t ‘died out’ at all, and maybe she could help him. Besides, it’s not that far off from you and I. Remember when you were the psychotic killer in town?”

Damon rolls his eyes. “But this is Kai. He’s a scrawny little, magic sucking, weasel-looking, chatterbox, and is quite possibly the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s rude.”

“It’s true!” He exhales rather loudly. “Does Bonnie know?”

“I haven’t told her. Figured that wouldn’t go down well.”

“Smart. But you should.”

“I will, just not yet.”

“So what have you done? Why’s he look upset?”

Elena answers, “she’s anonymously paid for his drink twice now. We get the feeling Kai knows it’s someone in the bar, but neither of us know how much the bartender has let on.”

“That man is a secret-keeper extraordinaire. Kai knows nothing.”

You nod. “I need to steer off the alcohol path soon, but I don’t have any other ideas. Elena?”

Damon answers instead, “pork rinds. Or any food, really. But pork rinds especially. Went through a whole bag in a day in the prison world.”

Elena makes a face. “Maybe also, like… something he could wear. Or something that would remind him of you.”

“What about a ring? He wears a lot of those. I don’t know what could remind him of me.”

“Does he even know you exist?”

“Damon!”

Before you can react, Bonnie returns. “What’d I miss?”

“Y/N has a crush on Kai,” Damon says, smirking. “She’s trying to get his attention in miniscule ways through tiny little gifts.”

You plant your forehead into the table. A fraction of a second before you do, though, you see Bonnie’s eyes going wide. 

“Y/N!”

“Please don’t.”

“Are you insane?”

“Please talk quieter.”

“Are you insane?” She whispers.

“She might be,” Damon offers.

“Guys, it’s not the worst thing that could happen. And I do think she can help him.”

“Help him? Elena-”

“Kai would be a much easier ally than enemy. Dating Y/N, or at the very least, being friends, would help with that. Plus, she likes him. It’s just like when I liked Damon.”

“And I didn’t support that either,” Bonnie reminds.

“I know, but you’re best friends now.”

“Are you suggesting Kai and I will be besties after a couple weeks? No. We won’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Just… Kai will be around regardless if we want him or not. Y/N has had a crush on him for the last two months. Might as well give it a chance.”

“And if it doesn’t work out? If he attacks her?”

“He won’t! Just give it a chance, Bonnie.”

She glares at you, and you look up just a little. 

“I’m not helping your little endeavor to get his attention, but I won’t actively work against it, either. Just… be safe.”

“Of course.”

“Damon, what are your thoughts?”

The man shrugs. “I just wanna see what happens.”

You glare at him, but then raise your head and smile at Elena. “Thanks, guys.”

“Get him a ring, Y/N. He mostly wears silver… which you probably already know.”

You giggle, then drop your attention down to your food to avoid her teasing. 

In the meantime of finding the perfect ring, you give him a bag of his favorite snack, per Damon’s suggestion. He mentioned he ate them a lot, and even said the boy was snacking in their first interaction. 

“He would chew them very loudly, it was so annoying,” he said, “so make sure you give it to him and high tail it out of there.”

“Oh I’m not sticking around at all, I’m ringing the doorbell and running.”

Your shyness earned a chuckle from the man. 

And you do exactly that. Kai has nothing close to a schedule, but you’ve observed him well enough to know he’s usually in his apartment at three in the afternoon. It’s the time in between his morning walk, afternoon lurk, and nighttime drink. When you drop off the bag in your hands - a brown paper bag of pork rinds, with a posy of red gerbera flowers - you have to be quick to find a close hiding spot.

For the record, the flowers were your idea. Deciding which type was a little difficult. You and Elena went back and forth between gerberas and chrysanthemums for ten minutes, liking the deep, red shades in both. After a bit, the florist approached and helped. Ultimately, you liked the symbolization of ‘desire’ behind the gerberas, and Elena was convinced the daisy would make him smile. 

After assembling the gift, you creep towards his door, knowing he’s often on edge and listening intently. You can hear his footsteps inside, along with sounds coming from a phone. For a moment, he laughs, but then his heavy boots retreat again. 

You almost run away, filling your own head with thoughts. This is such a bad idea. This is cheesy. This is pointless.

But then Elena texts, “you better not be talking yourself out of it.”

You take a deep breath, put it on his doorstep, ring the bell, and then hurry to the stairs. Luckily, you have a knack of getting out of situations quietly; it’s a perk of being introverted and shy. 

In the stairwell, you stop to try and hear his reaction. You don’t dare look up, but you do wait just a moment. Even from a distance, you can hear his excited reaction. He sounds like a little kid given Legos. It takes everything in you to not poke your head up and see. 

His boots start to sound down the length of the hall, possibly looking for the person who left it, and you take that as your cue to leave. As tempted as you are to see him in this moment, you’re not quite ready to expose your crush. 

Kai hears movement in the stairwell. He quickens his pace towards it, acknowledging whoever it is seems determined to keep their identity a secret. They should know he’s equally determined to learn who it is, though, and Kai always wins. 

As you hurry around the corner, he catches a glimpse of your hair flying behind you. He bites his lip, fighting a smile. He could recognize your hair any day. 

Instead of calling out, he keeps to himself. He’ll give you this victory today; he’ll let you think he’s still totally clueless, for both your sakes. You clearly aren’t ready to face him, and Kai kinda likes the game you’re playing. Besides, he needs more time to sort out his own feelings. He’s known he’s liked you for weeks, but knowing he might have a chance with you is a game changer. As confusing as it is to recognize he has a crush, he finds himself excited, too. 

For the rest of the day, he takes to the couch with the pork rinds, and lets his mind run wild, thinking about you. 

When you finally find the perfect ring, you really haven’t been looking at all. It catches your eye through a window of a jewelry store, while your best friends are debating on whether or not to go into the neighboring store. The four of you are having a much needed break from the chaos of your local town. It was Caroline’s idea to drive an hour away to somewhere new. 

A foot away, you can hear their musings. 

“I think I might just go in for a minute,” Elena says, “I feel like if I walk away, I’m gonna regret not at least looking at that shirt.”

“I’ll go in if you go in,” Bonnie nods to her, “mostly to get out of this loud entryway.”

“But after, we need to find fries. Like, seriously,” demands Caroline, for the third time. 

“We will! Shirt first.”

“Fine!”

“Caroline,” you wave for her attention, “you know a lot about jewelry.”

“Yes I do,” she agrees, leaving to join your side as the other two go into the store. 

“You know what I’m doing with Kai, right?”

She narrows her eyes and a suggestive smile forms on her lips. “Doing with him?”

“Not like that! I mean-”

“Calm down, I’m teasing. Yes, you’re trying to get his attention because you have a crush.”

“Right. Do you think he’d like this ring? ‘Cause like, I know he wears silver, but I don’t know if he’d care about the little sliver of green in there, but I happen to know a lot about crystals, and know that is malachite, but I also know he hates his name, so I don’t know if that would be well received, or if he’d be upset.”

Caroline lets you ramble. As soon as you’re done, she begins to giggle.

“What?!”

“You’re so overthinking this, it’s adorable!”

“Caroline!”

“I don’t think he’d be upset, I think he’d like it.”

“But do men even care about color in rings? What if he only wears silver ones and doesn’t want any color? Let alone a crystal with his name in it!”

“Omg, Y/N, calm down. You’re stressing yourself out over this. Do you want to go inside and ask to see it? Let’s do that.” She takes your hand and goes immediately to the counter. A moment later, you admire the ring in your hand. “It’s pretty,” Caroline comments.

“Yeah… What if he thinks I’m trying to propose or something?”

Before the girl can erupt in more laughter, the salesperson replies, “this isn’t an engagement ring, actually. Are you looking for those?”

“Oh no, not at all!”

“My friend here has a crush on a boy who wears similar looking rings-”

“Caroline!”

“-and she wants to get him one instead of just telling him she likes him.”

“Ah,” the woman smiles. 

“And she particularly likes the green on this one.”

“Well this is actually a crystal known as malachite.”

You nod, “his name is Malachai.”

“That’s fitting!”

“You should get it,” Caroline nudges your shoulder. 

“This is one of our less expensive rings, but that doesn’t mean the quality isn’t as good as others. The malachite is ethically sourced from Australia, and the ring itself is made here in the US,” she starts her spiel. 

“Okay, I’ll get it.”

“Perfect. Size?”

“Uhhh…”

“Average size for men is 10.”

“He’s six foot,” you provide.

“We’ll do a 10. It’ll be easy to size if he needs to.”

“Okay.”

She goes to the back to pack it up for you, and meanwhile, Caroline snickers.

“What?”

“You’re adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“Y’know, this is probably going to be the most expensive thing he owns.”

“It’s not even that much, Care.”

“Still… probably stole his other rings somewhere.”

You’d be upset at the accusation if it wasn’t most likely true. You whisper, “probably stole them off someone after killing them.”

She giggles. “And yet here you are, crushing on him.”

“Can’t help it. And you’re one to talk,” you refer to Klaus.

“This isn’t about me!”

“He wears rings, too. He might like that one over there.”

“Shush!”

The woman comes back and you both hush. “Here you go. That’ll be $43.50.”

You swipe your card. “Don’t tell Bonnie.”

Caroline snorts. 

“She already thinks I’m insane for crushing on him.”

“This is quite the gift for a crush,” the woman mentions.

“Oh crush is a light term. Y/N won’t admit it, but she’s totally in love with him.”

“Care!”

“He likes her, too. But he’s just as shy about it as she is.”

“Stop talking,” you say through gritted teeth, face hot with blush.

“Well I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.” 

“You girls do too.”

Bonnie finds out immediately by way of pressing why you took so long in a jewelry store. Incidentally, she then becomes part of your plan in getting it to him. 

The four of you decide you’re going to “run into him” by accident, where you’ll then present it as something you just “came across” in passing. It’s a horrible plan, but it’s the only one you have. And, it’s not entirely untrue, which will minimize the amount of stuttering you’d have while giving it to him.

At seven, Damon texts Elena that Kai had just sat down at the bar. He then calls her and loudly invites the four of them to dinner. Minutes later, you join the smirking vampire at his table.

“Nice shit plan you guys have.”

“Shh!” Caroline scolds, “it kinda needs to be shit if these two are ever going to actually talk to each other.”

Damon gets the point immediately. You’re too anxious to register Caroline’s words. 

“Okay,” Elena turns to you, “I need a shot. Y/N, can you order a round?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t stutter!” Elena smacks her boyfriend. “Kidding,” he tells you. 

You roll your eyes. As you near the bar, you take a couple deep breaths. Your friends watching this whole thing is certainly not helping your anxiety, but it’s now or never to act on this plan. 

“Y/N,” the bartender nods as you slide up to the counter. You take the seat beside Kai, but don’t look at him yet. “What can I get you?”

“Five shots of bourbon, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kai bounces his knee nervously as he thinks of what to say to you. After a second, he blurts out, “hi.”

You face him. “Hi.”

“You here with someone or are all those shots for you?”

You laugh. “Nah, I’m here with all those,” you gesture to your friends.

Kai follows your hand. “Ah.”

“Hey, um…” three of your shots are poured. “I know you wear rings, and I saw this one the other day, and it looked like something you’d wear, maybe, I don’t know. But um,” you produce it from your pocket, “I got it for you anyway.”

The way his eyes light up warms your heart. He takes it gently and admires it.

“The green is malachite,” you say quickly, “I didn’t know if you’d like it, because I know you don’t like your name all that much, but still thought it was kinda cool.”

“It is cool,” he confirms, “I love it.” He slips it onto his right, middle finger, then smiles up at you. “And I like the malachite. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Your shots, Y/N,” the bartender hands you the five on a small plate.

“Thanks.” You turn back to Kai. “And, um, you’re welcome.” For a moment, you sit in silence, wishing you had the courage to confess, but you don’t. “I’m gonna go bring these to them.”

“Okay.”

You climb off the barstool, but of course stumble over one of the legs on your way down. Kai’s hands reach out to stabilize you. One grabs your shoulder; one’s under your arm, dangerously close to grazing your breast.

As soon as you’re stable, he pulls his hands away. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t forget your shots.”

You smile, give him one more awkward “thanks”, then grab your shots and return to your table. 

“Smooth,” Elena says immediately.

“Shut up.”

It’s been three days since you gave him the ring. You haven’t gone to the grill, nor seen him otherwise, partly in an attempt to avoid him. The ring was the first time you actually went up and talked to him, instead of indirectly giving him gifts or slipping in a hello during group conversations. And then, of course, at the end of your interaction, you managed to embarrass yourself. Kai was nice about it, which says a lot because he has little patience with most people, but you’re still embarrassed nonetheless. 

So the next time you run into Kai, you’re not expecting it at all.

You’re in the kitchen of the boarding house with Elena, when one minute you look up, and he’s standing right across the counter from you. 

“Well hello,” he greets, dimpled-smile wide. 

Elena pops up from the floor, a cooking skillet in her hand that she just dug out from the lower cabinet. “Hello,” she greets questioningly.

“Hi,” you finally say. Short and sweet.

“What brings you here?” She nods to him.

“Bored. Wondering what’s going on in the big, giant mansion.”

“Just us cooking.”

“Ooh, fun. Y’know, I happen to be a pretty good cook.”

“Really? Prove it.”

You glance at Elena, silently cursing her for inviting him even closer to you. She smiles. 

“Really?”

She nods at him. 

“What were you making?”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Ah. I used to make that for my siblings’ lunch. There’s a spice you’ve got to add in the soup that you wouldn’t think about, but it makes all the difference.”

“Impress us. We’ll make the sandwiches.”

Kai starts on the stove, and all you can do is stare. His back is turned to you, but everytime he reaches, you get a glimpse of his hands. The veins on the back compliment his long fingers. Two rings adorn his left; one is on his right - yours. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight. He turns around suddenly. “Where’s your spice rack?”

Elena points to the pantry. “On the door.”

“Thanks.”

“I remember you saying you could cook when you kidnapped me. The memory’s starting to return.”

“Awh, I did say that, didn’t I?” He smiles. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Yeah… who taught you how?”

“My father, surprisingly.” As he moves back to the stove, Elena nods at you to retrieve the bread, butter, and cheese. You do, as she turns on the fire. “Taught me how to measure with my eye. Taught me what spices do best with what dishes. He was more of the cook than my mother.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she was busy wrangling six kids.”

“Were your siblings all close in age?” You ask, hoisting yourself on the counter. The more he talks, the more your confidence grows, even if just a little at a time.

He looks up at you before tending back to his soup. “When Liv and Luke were toddlers, the oldest aside from Jo and I was thirteen. Pretty close.”

You nod.

“Interesting to me that your dad did most of the cooking,” Elena says, “usually men make their wives do all the work, especially in the time you grew up.”

The boy smiles at her subtle prod at him being way older than he looks. The reminder makes you gulp and shift your legs. 

“Yeah, well, he loved her. He would’ve done anything for her. They both did the chores around the house. Jo and I, too, if I was allowed. I mostly cooked, though. They put up a baby gate so the toddlers couldn’t crawl into the kitchen when I was in there; they trusted me that little.”

“Was that for a reason?”

“I siphoned them more when I was younger, sure. By the time I was sixteen-ish, I had mostly learned my lesson not to do that anymore. As a kid, though, it was hard to resist. Sometimes I’d still steal from my oldest younger brother when he’d piss me off. He wouldn’t tell because he knew he deserved it.” When Elena gives him a quizzical look, he explains. “Early nineties, we had a computer, and Joey was obsessed with this wizard game that my mother hated. She thought it was too violent. So he’d wake up really early in the morning to go play it and would always wake me up. He’d let me siphon so I wouldn’t tell on him.” Kai winks. “Sometimes, too, we’d roughhouse when we weren’t allowed. He would always start it. He’d come into my room and throw something at me, or would slap me for no reason. Or, would just stand in the doorway and stare. If I caught the upperhand, we’d wrestle on the floor until he apologized. Then he’d let me siphon so I wouldn’t tell mom that he went in my room, because he wasn’t allowed to do that.”

You both nod, somewhat understanding. Sibling stuff. It’s familiar, siblings coming into your room just to piss you off, and then bribing them not to tattle. Kai just happened to use his lack of magic as his bribe; desperate to have something he was born without, despite all his siblings having unlimited access. You couldn’t blame him, really, especially with his brother teasing him as much as he seemed to have. 

Kai turns off the stove as his soup begins to bubble. He looks up at you again, then chuckles. “You look cute up there.”

Immediately, you blush hard. You tuck your knees up, resting them on the edge of the cabinet door below you. “Thank you.” It comes out in a whisper, and he replies with a wink. 

“Bowls?”

Elena points to the cabinet beside you. 

“Ah, great. Watch your head,” he mutters, opening the door. You duck a little as he reaches into it. His shirt rides up slightly, skin rubbing into the counter’s edge. 

“Do you need help?” You ask, holding your hands out to grab a bowl.

“Yeah, thanks.” He hands you one after another, then shuts the door. Elena turns off the stove, then nods at him for plates. “Which one?”

“The one she’s blocking.”

“Ah.” You start to get down, but Kai insists, “no, I can work around you.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you duck and shift to the left. Within seconds, his body is centimeters from touching yours. The softness of his gray shirt brushes against your exposed knee. “Hold,” he hands you a plate. You take it and set it down, then grab the other two from him. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

As you recover, he starts to organize the dishes. Elena goes to the fridge for drinks, but then clicks her tongue. “Gotta go to the basement fridge. Out of coke in this one.” She winks. She’s gone before you can say a word. 

Kai finishes his task, then comes back to your side. He puts a hand on your knee, his right one, and then offers a smile. 

“I like my ring. Thank you for it.”

You force a smile as you try to calm your racing heart. “You’re welcome.”

“And the pork rinds, I enjoyed those.”

“I didn’t do that.”

He chuckles. “The shots, too. Plus the pretty little daisy.”

“I didn’t do that, either.”

“Oh come on, princess. Admit it.” You tense up at the nickname and he can see it. “You can’t hide from me anymore.” He hooks a finger under your chin, but you refuse eye contact. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t even know where to buy pork rinds.”

“You’re so cute when you’re trying to lie to me.” You blush even more at that and he smiles. “Y’know, the shade of those daisies reminds me of the blush on your cheeks.” He licks his lips. “You can’t deny it, just admit it.”

“Kai, I can’t.”

“Can’t what? What’s wrong?”

“What do you even want me to admit?”

He laughs, as if the question is crazy. “Admit that you did it. Gave me cute little gifts and paid my ever-growing bar tabs.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I did. Happy?”

Apparently not. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I thought you just wanted to know if I did it.”

“I did, and know I want to know why.”

“Kai-” you start, whining. He’s still holding your chin and it’s getting harder to not look at him. 

“I like the way my name sounds on your lips, cutie,” he whispers. “Why don’t you just admit it and I can put something else on your lips?”

You finally look at him, eyes wider than a mouse’s. 

“Awwh, there you are. Hi.” You stare, speechless. “Can I ask you something?” You only nod. “Is it safe to assume you have a little crush on me? Is that the reason for all this?”

You shake your head ‘no’.

“No? Really? Find that hard to believe.”

“Kai-”

“Princess, this’ll be so much easier when you just admit it.” He cocks his head. “What if I told you I have a little bit of a crush on you too, hm? Would that affect you at all?”

“You do?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sweet, and shy, and just so cute. I mean, look at you. Perched on this countertop, and I could so easily grab you and hold you in my arms.” He smiles. “I’ve seen you moving around out of the corner of my eye. I know there’s a reason you’ve given me all these little gifts. Like this ring,” he shows it to you, “only you would care enough to do that. Not to mention the crystal inside it being part of my name.” You bite your lip in response and he grins. “See, I got you.”

“The food’s getting cold, we need to eat it.” You try to slide off the counter, but he catches your waist. 

“Ah, ah, ah, not yet, little girl. Admit it first.”

“I already did!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine!” You give in, “I might have a tiny, little crush on you. And I thought if I give you things, you’d notice me.”

He smiles, satisfied with his win. “There it is! You have a crush on me.” You don’t look at him. “For the record, I already noticed you. And I’ve been watching you since I arrived in this town. Your gifts only told me that you were interested, too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So what now?”

“You could let me kiss you. I bet you taste sweeter than you look.” He runs a finger along your jawbone. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nod. 

Kai wastes no time pressing his body into your legs and cupping your face in his hands. “You’re so cute,” he mutters. Then, a second later, kisses you softly. Your lips part in pleasure before you start to kiss him back. He takes advantage of this, sucking your lower lip in between his teeth and making his next kiss more passionate. You let your hands rest on his chest, but don’t push him off. A couple seconds later, he breaks it off himself. 

“Even sweeter than I could imagine,” he says cheesily. 

“Really?”

He pinches your cheeks. “Perfect.”

“What’d I miss?” Elena appears in the doorway, three drinks in her hands. 

Kai smirks. “All the fun.”

The girl knows immediately. “Finally?”

“Finally,” Kai confirms.

“Wait- did you two-?” You point back and forth. “Did you-?”

“Promise, I didn’t say a word to him!” Elena swears.

Kai agrees, “not a word between us. You’re just bad at keeping secrets.” He bops you on the nose. 

“You suck.”

“And you’re adorable when you pretend to be mad at me.”

You pout in response, peeling yourself off the counter. Kai kisses your cheek as you pop off, making you blush. 

“Sandwich time?” Elena asks, “I have a story about that ring that you would just love.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to need to hear this.”

“No! Elena, don’t!”

The three of you take your sandwiches and soup into the dining room, and she tells the story anyway. 

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #kai parker fluff

[softpascalito]

Presents - Pedro Pascal Characters Headcanons

Summary: Which presents do the Pedro boys give you for Christmas? I have some ideas.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader, Javier Peña x Reader, Dieter Bravo x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader Tags/Warnings: Non-explicit smut, Fluff, Headcanons

notes: some more headcanons for you darlings <3

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Joel Miller

Joel is actually surprisingly good at giving presents. He'll pay extra attention to what you're saying or what you may need in the weeks before Christmas.

During patrol, he keeps an eye out for your favorite foods and products, storing them away into his backpack to add them to the ever-growing list of presents for you.

He prefers giving to getting, even though he's always more than thankful when it comes to his own presents. But nothing beats the look his loved ones get in their eyes when they unwrap a present from him and it's just the perfect one, showing just how well Joel knows them.

Come Christmas Eve, there's at least half a dozen small packages waiting under the Christmas Tree for you. Joel loves to spoil you.

He gets creative as well, making use of his woodworking skill to add a few more personal gifts to the pile, carving you small figurines of your favorite animals.

Javier Peña

Javi gets lost at least three times while he visits the mall to go Christmas shopping. He does not like the over-crowded stores at all but he knows he needs to find something that let's you know just how much you mean to him.

When asked about his own wishes for Christmas, he only asked for a pack of Malboros (needless to say, he gets a few packs AND a proper present).

He's about to pick out a frangrance that seems like you'd like it when he runs into Connie. She instantly sees that he looks like a fucking lost puppy in between all the products and options and takes pity.

She helps him pick out a few things you'll actually like and even reminds him to grab some wrapping paper. She also promises to not tell you about her helping out a little bit.

You're blown away by the gifts he picked for you, trying not to show how surprised you are he actually knew what to pick.

At the DEA's Christmas Party, you run into Connie. She just winks when you ask her if she'd been helping Javi. You both never tell him.

Dieter Bravo

Dieter thinks about whether or not to get you drugs (he doesn't).

He loves giving gifts that he knows will benefit him as much as they do you- something for your shared apartment or something for you to wear.

There's a cozy sweater and a hat from your favorite brand under the Christmas Tree, but there is also some more ... naughty clothing.

You like dressing up a little for Dieter, teasing him more than once throughout Christmas-time by suggesting to get one of those little red and white outfits that would perfectly highlight your figure.

He gets you a few, unable to decide on just one when he begins to imagine how good you'd look in them.

Dieter and you both name the white lace one as your favorite, detailed with little, glittering snowflakes all over the fabric.

Needless to say, the rest of the presents dont get unwrapped until the second day of Christmas.

Din Djarin

Din is absolutely lost when it comes to presents. The two of you are inseperable, which doesn't really make secretly buying something easier.

The opportunity presents itself when you decide to shop for some new clothes and he gets a little while to himself.

A Mandalorian wandering around the aroma and lotion shop turns heads but Din can't bring himself to care. He tries a few items, holding them below his helmet so that he can take a whiff.

He settles on a set of lotions and creams that smell refreshing, a note of pine in them. You always prefer the wooded planets to the desert ones so he hopes that it's a safe pick.

You love it more than he expects - and he does too. For the next few weeks, his entire ship seems to smell like the store did, fresh and gentle, and you seem surrounded by the scents he got you. It begins to smell like home.

He insists, as soon as you have used the bottles up, to go back and get you new ones, stocking up on the lotions and soaps and oils. If you ever leave, he tells himself, he'll at least remember the smell.

(You never leave).

#softpascalitosadventcalendar #pedropascaladventcalender #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller / reader #din djarin #din djarin / you #din djarin / reader #headcanons #hcs #pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña / you #javier peña / reader #dieter bravo #dieterbravo / reader #dieter bravo / you #softpascalito #tlou #the bubble #the mandalorian #narcos

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 31

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

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

Perhaps sending an urgent message to summon Lan Qiren back to his side at once was a little excessive, given that there was no genuine need for such urgency, but Wen Ruohan did not especially care. Would it be thoroughly undignified to admit that he was sulking?

Because he might be sulking.

“Oh no, you are definitely sulking. Unbelievable amounts of sulking,” Lao Nie said, quite cheerfully.

“I’m not sulking,” Wen Ruohan informed him firmly, only to have Lao Nie nod at him with an air of deep wisdom and exactly zero belief, an expression which he somehow managed to make simultaneously both condescending and scornful. “I am not!”

“Of course not. What a ridiculous thought. Why would you ever sulk? What possible cause could there be for your sulking?”

Truly, Lan Qiren had been indisputably correct when he had described Lao Nie as the most obnoxious man in the cultivation world.

“Are you going to help or not?” Wen Ruohan scowled at him. He hated having to need Lao Nie for anything – as he unfortunately now did.

Qingheng-jun had surrendered, and so, out of lack of better options and cursing himself for a fool the entire time, Wen Ruohan had taken him prisoner. But with Qingheng-jun’s strength and cleverness, Wen Ruohan didn’t dare entrust him to anyone he wasn’t certain could defeat him in battle, and never mind that he was disarmed and technically had surrendered voluntarily.

Tragically, that left only himself and Lao Nie.

And between the two of them, it couldn’t be him, because if Qingheng-jun didn’t stop smirking, Wen Ruohan was going to give up on all of his good intentions and just haul off to murder the man.

It would feel so good, too.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take custody of him,” Lao Nie said, rolling his eyes at him and even sticking out his tongue at him like a child. “I’m always willing to help, Hanhan, you know me. Now go off and pine for your sweetheart like some adolescent with a crush.”

“I do not pine.”

“Mm, right, right. And you don’t sulk, either.”

“I am not sulking,” Wen Ruohan sulked. “It would be immature.”

“Hanhan,” Lao Nie said, with great affection. “You are immature. It’s part of your charm.”

Wen Ruohan had been so offended by that suggestion that he’d nearly managed to forget about Qingheng-jun for a whole shichen thereafter, which in retrospect was probably at least part of what Lao Nie had intended. Wen Ruohan would reluctantly admit that he did have something of a bad tendency to dwell overmuch on things that had gone wrong, or which did not please him – which was not the same as sulking – and at present there wasn’t time for that. He had more than enough to do, between managing the increasingly worried residents of Lanling City, managing the increasingly irritable Madame Jin, and managing his own army, which had finished collecting the cursed coins…not to mention figuring out what to do with the coins now that he’d started to amass quite a collection of them.

Currently he was thinking of just throwing them in the smelter and calling it a day.

Yes, he could probably figure out a way to remove the curse if he put some time and effort into it.

No, he did not care enough to do that.

There was really no point in studying the coins themselves – if he wanted to learn more about the curse, he could just ask Lan Qiren to dig up whatever weird Lan sect book he’d found it in, or for that matter interrogate Qingheng-jun himself. On the other hand, melting down the coins would help break down the curse, making it easier to banish it using standard arrays and talismans against resentful energy. The only reason to go to the effort of preserving the actual coins themselves in their present form was if someone wanted to keep them as they were.

Which, being as they were cheap gaudy trash no one actually wanted, no one did.

Wen Ruohan supposed that there was some argument to be made that the coins represented the last thing Jin Guangshan had created in his life, give or take some bastard children yet to be born, and therefore ought to be maintained as some demonstration of respect.

Which settled it. They were going into the smelter for sure.

There was also the matter of arranging for both Jin Guangshi and his family and little Jin Zixuan to go to the Nightless City. Wen Ruohan had thoughtfully managed that matter on Lan Qiren’s behalf, mostly through a combination of loudly blaming Madam Jin for the various issues they’d encountered since arriving in Lanling City (assassinations, deliberate obstruction, and so forth) and making a number of pointedly implied threats related to exposing the depth of her husband’s involvement in the matter of the cursed coins.

It wasn’t that difficult an accusation to make. There were already all sorts of rumors going around Lanling City (and indeed the entire cultivation world) about Jin Guangshan’s so-unfortunate death, the nature of the Wen sect’s quite justified retaliation for what had happened at the Lotus Pier, and even some clever people who’d made an effort to connect it all to what had happened so recently in Xixiang. Madam Jin and Wen Ruohan both knew quite well that it wouldn’t have been hard at all for Wen Ruohan to push the rumors in a direction that would have been utterly disastrous to Madam Jin’s attempts to retain legitimacy and maintain Lanling Jin’s face and power in the cultivation world. Even for someone who was as cunning as she, there was no choice but to yield in the face of evidence that her husband had tried to murder not merely a rival sect leader, but the entire cultivation world, though Madam Jin certainly made a decent effort.

She particularly hadn’t wanted to give up her son.

Such a pity for her, then, that the person extorting her was not Lan Qiren, who would probably have tried to appeal to her better nature (likely non-existent) or the health and happiness of her son (probably irrelevant to her beyond him being healthy and alive) or maybe even to the greater good (even less relevant), but rather Wen Ruohan, who had no problem skipping the solicitude and going straight to outright blackmail.

Wen Ruohan might have had more sympathy for Madam Jin’s position if she hadn’t shifted so smoothly over from genuine concerns about Jin Zixuan’s well-being – which had faded rather quickly as soon as she’d realized that Wen Ruohan intended to put Lan Qiren in charge of him, right alongside his own children, thereby guaranteeing him both the most prestigious education in the cultivation world and a chance to make valuable future political connections both – to political calculations designed to shore up her own power as regent. It wasn’t as though Wen Ruohan couldn’t respect someone using wits and ruthlessness to get ahead, but for personal reasons he felt a particular level of distaste for Madam Jin’s obvious attempts to use the taking of her son as hostage to as leverage to get all sorts of assurances that Wen Ruohan would replace the benefits of her son’s presence with his own promise of support.

As it was, Wen Ruohan simply ignored her requests, whether implicit or stated outright, and instead followed Lan Qiren’s idea of referring her to his army any time she had an objection to his proposed plan. It was objectively hilarious how many colors her face turned every time he reminded her of it.

Coins handled, army settled (and military discipline strictly maintained, as promised), Lanling City’s domestic leadership reassured – really, Wen Ruohan had been very productive. Far too busy, certainly, to be said to have been sulking.

Not that he would be. Because he wasn’t. Just like he wasn’t pining, because that would be absurd.

Why would he pine?

Lan Qiren was his. They were married, together for a lifetime. They had all the many years of the future to be together, and if Wen Ruohan had anything to say about it, there would be very many years indeed. Lan Qiren had given him his heart, had fallen in love with him, and the Lan of Gusu Lan took such things incredibly seriously – and Lan Qiren more seriously than most.

It wasn’t as though he were suddenly going to change his mind just because he’d gone home for a visit.

Lan Qiren didn’t change his mind easily about anything. He didn’t like change at all, and he’d already gotten accustomed to the Nightless City. There was really no need to worry that he would be swept by a wave of nostalgia and homesickness upon visiting the Cloud Recesses and refuse to return. Nor was he so lacking in spine that his Lan sect elders would be able to bully him into staying by demanding that he return to his duty, or succeed in any effort to try to split them up, to force him to request a divorce…not that Wen Ruohan would ever grant one.

There was no need to worry, so Wen Ruohan didn’t worry.

He certainly didn’t pine.

He’d called Lan Qiren back because he needed help in managing all the things he had to do, and that was all.

Yes, fine, technically, none of the things Wen Ruohan was doing at the moment actually required Lan Qiren’s presence, much less urgently. Lan Qiren’s particular talents aside, Wen Ruohan was far better suited to diplomatic political maneuvering of the sort he was currently engaged in with Lanling Jin. His army was largely self-sufficient, he was accustomed to managing all sect matters on his own, and there wasn’t much he could do to help encourage the coin collection in the other Great Sects, since they would only grow less cooperative if he got involved. Even dealing with Qingheng-jun wasn’t that urgent, though naturally it’d be better to resolve that matter sooner rather than later.

There was no actual need to summon Lan Qiren back.

Wen Ruohan just wanted him back.

Which had nothing to do with pining, no matter what Lao Nie might imply. Life was simply more interesting when Lan Qiren was around. Life was simply better when he was around.

Really, Wen Ruohan had to hand it to himself: with each passing day, he grew increasingly assured of his own brilliance, both in general and specifically for his genius move of having sought and obtained Lan Qiren in marriage when he had. He would never again encounter such a heaven-sent opportunity to steal such a precious treasure from another Great Sect, not even if he destroyed them all and raided their treasuries to claim them for his own. Lan Qiren was the finest treasure he would ever be able to find, a pearl beyond pearls, priceless and unique, and he was his.

Wen Ruohan wasn’t giving him up, not for anything. Even if the Lan sect now regretted giving him up, as surely they must, it was surely too late…

“Sect Leader, report! Senior Lan has arrived.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said, brightening and setting aside the paperwork he’d been dawdling over. “Send him over to me at once.”

He was admittedly curious to know how Lan Qiren’s efforts to scold his sect into virtue had gone. Wen Ruohan was, on account of his personal age, one of the only sect leaders not to have to deal with the baggage of sect elders, and he greatly appreciated having that freedom. Still, he certainly remembered what sect elders were generally like – and not especially fondly.

They were always a bunch of old farts that thought they were due deference if not outright groveling by the younger generations just because they’d managed to not die, each one of them puttering around and opining on things that didn’t concern them as if unable to resist the urge. His Wen sect was well rid of them, in Wen Ruohan’s view! Still, during the period that his own sect elders had been alive, that seemingly endless collection of uncles, aunts, older cousins, grand-uncles and the like, even he hadn’t dared go forth and lecture the whole lot of them for their unethical behavior, as it seemed Lan Qiren had been planning to do. Whatever happened, it would make for an interesting story, even if Lan Qiren was almost certain to tell it in the dullest way possible; he was the sort of person to treat miracles as commonplace.

Anyway, Wen Ruohan had his own news to share. The matter with Qingheng-jun…

No, he wasn’t going to think about that at the moment. Nothing was going to spoil his reunion with Lan Qiren, not even his own sulking.

His own bad mood, he meant. Not sulking. Because he wasn’t sulking.

And then Lan Qiren walked in, healthy and here, and Wen Ruohan really wasn’t sulking any longer.

“You’re back,” he said, unable to hide his pleasure.

“And you are well,” Lan Qiren said, looking visibly relieved – and notably more powerful than the last time Wen Ruohan had seen him.

Not literally glowing, the way he had immediately after their dual cultivation, so filled with spiritual energy that his skin had seemed almost luminescent, but nevertheless genuinely more powerful, in a solid and stable sort of fashion. He’d somehow managed to assimilate all the power they had generated into his golden core, rather than using it up or needing to break it down over time.

Very impressive.

Not that he would ever be anything less.

“Of course I’m well,” Wen Ruohan said, arrogant as always, and enjoyed how his self-aggrandizement only made Lan Qiren look amused. “Are you implying that you doubt my skills…?”

Lan Qiren snorted, the tension flowing out of his shoulders: it seemed he really had been worried, which might have been genuinely annoying if the battle hadn’t actually been quite difficult. “Merely your communication skills,” he said, his amusement settling into simple contentment. “You sent an urgent summons, so I thought something might have happened. You could have clarified in your missive.”

If Wen Ruohan had clarified, Lan Qiren might not have arrived so quickly. Though perhaps Wen Ruohan could see to it that next time, in his benevolence, he would include a small note confirming his well-being, if only because it would spare Lan Qiren some unnecessary panic.

Provided that Lan Qiren properly appreciated him for doing so, of course. He had ideas on how.

“I am nevertheless quite pleased to see you alive and well, even if it is no more than I had expected. Obviously I would never have left you to manage alone if I had had any actual concern,” Lan Qiren said, which was a very nice balm for Wen Ruohan’s ego. “What ended up happening in the end? Is my brother…?”

Wen Ruohan grimaced, his poor mood immediately rushing back to him at the reminder.

“He’s alive, unfortunately,” he said, lips twisting in disgust. “He surrendered, right at the very end before I could finish him off. He even had the gall to mock me for my restraint, knowing that I would not execute a prisoner on your behalf without a fair trial. I had to entrust him to Lao Nie just to keep from employing further violence…!”

He trailed off. Lan Qiren was smiling warmly at him, approval written in every line of him.

It was worth every single one of Qingheng-jun’s smirks.

“I assume that that approach meets with your approval,” he added haughtily, fishing for compliments. “Naturally I would have had no such restraint if it were up to me, especially since we both know that it will be easier to keep his misconduct secret if he is already dead. But I know you have scruples, and will undoubtedly insist on having all the relevant accoutrements…”

“A trial is not an accoutrement,” Lan Qiren said, but he was still smiling. “It may make things more difficult, I admit, but what will be will be; we will find a way through. You did very well.”

Wen Ruohan preened. Of course he had.

“I will be expecting an appropriate reward, of course,” he said, which made Lan Qiren laugh.

“Of course, that is only natural,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Positive reinforcement is a critical part of pedagogy. It is only reasonable that good behavior deserves a commensurate reward, and I intend to reward you thoroughly.”

Wen Ruohan smirked. “I should hope that you’re not using this particular type of positive reinforcement with any of your other students.”

Lan Qiren gave him an admonishing look, though the fondness he couldn’t conceal undercut the severity of it. “Do not be vulgar. Do I need to turn you over my knee again?”

Wen Ruohan wouldn’t mind.

In fact, he itched to take Lan Qiren to bed right away, forgetting everything else. Lan Qiren had come straight to him, not even having washed the (metaphorical, given Lan sect robes) dust of the road off his boots. He had not eaten, had not rested, had not deviated in the slightest, as if he was just as desperate to see Wen Ruohan as Wen Ruohan had been to see him.

It was immensely gratifying.

He wanted…but there would be time enough for that later, when Lan Qiren had had some time to recover and would be able to perform at his best.

“Tell me first about your visit to the Cloud Recesses,” he said, and Lan Qiren’s expression somehow managed to get even more approving. “I can already see that you had the opportunity to consolidate all that spiritual energy. I take it everything went well?”

“Very well. Better than expected, even.”

He then relayed the story, which turned out to involve a formal ethics debate – only in Gusu Lan, really, what unbelievable weirdos – and some really rather fascinating bits of information about what had happened in the past with Qingheng-jun and his unfortunate wife, as well as the ultimate result and disposition of events.

“Do you think Lan Zhengquan will be executed?” Wen Ruohan asked, mildly curious. “Or merely confined involuntarily?”

“Involuntary confinement is not ‘merely’ anything. But, in answer to your question – yes, in this instance, I believe it is likely that he will be executed following a proper, if confidential, trial. I may disagree with everything Lan Zhengquan has done, up to and including the justifications he put together for his behavior and that of his brother ten years ago, but I will not deny that he has the courage of his convictions. If he remains unwilling to abandon those justifications even in light of the evidence and final judgment against him, he is within his rights to demand an execution, which will be carried out at an appropriate location outside of the Cloud Recesses.”

“A pity.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. “I agree with the sentiment, but for whatever strange reason I suspect our regret comes from different sources. I regret the loss of life, and the loss of the wisdom, experience, and advice that Lan Zhengquan would have provided the sect, should he instead have been able to accept correction, sincerely repent, and live on. Whereas you…?”

Such sentimental tripe was most certainly not Wen Ruohan’s concern.

“It would have been more narratively satisfying if he suffered the same fate as your sister-in-law,” he explained, and Lan Qiren snorted. “What? It would have been. From what you say, he was the one who led the charge in favor of executing her back then, which is what caused your brother to save her life by marrying her, converting the sentence from execution to imprisonment. For him now to suffer imprisonment in the same manner would be an especially meet application of justice. You could have even put him in the same house!”

“Luckily, Gusu Lan does not determine its punishments by what would be narratively satisfying,” Lan Qiren said sternly. “And now I am clearly going to have to conduct a review to ensure that the Nightless City does not do so, either.”

Wen Ruohan would have complained, but in all truth the Nightless City’s justice system could probably stand to be reviewed, and he couldn’t think of anyone better to do it.

He shrugged in implicit consent, and changed the subject: “What about your sect elders? Was it entirely wise to leave them to debate the matter of their own punishment themselves? He who suffers the penalty ought not impose it, after all.”

“I have confidence that they will choose to do the right thing. And if they do not, I will go back and have further words with them.”

Wen Ruohan sniffed disdainfully. “It seems to me that you have already committed to going back already in order to evaluate their proposed solution anyway. Already planning trips without even consulting me…! How rude of you, Qiren. Whatever happened to ‘be attentive to your wife’s needs’…?”

“Would you be satisfied if I promised that by the time I was done with you, you would not want to lay eyes on me for the duration of my absence?”

That sounded amazing.

“At any rate, even if I return, I do not plan to be gone for very long,” Lan Qiren said, and that satisfied Wen Ruohan even more. “Even in this instance, I will admit that your summons came at a timely moment to excuse me from the debate, which was likely to be interminable.”

“And here I thought that interminable debates were what your Gusu Lan sect did best.” Wen Ruohan chuckled at Lan Qiren’s long-suffering expression. “Very well, I will be benevolent and lend you to them – briefly – to ensure that they do the right thing.”

“You do not need to pretend in front of me,” Lan Qiren said, now even more long-suffering. “You are tremendously excited by the possibility that they will carry through on their suggestion that they all resign and leave me to manage or at minimum advise on the management of the sect from the Nightless City, thereby putting it into your control.”

Wen Ruohan grinned. He wasn’t going to lie: they were definitely going to fuck about this later. “What can I say?” he drawled. “My husband gets me the best gifts.”

“On that subject,” Lan Qiren said, eyes narrowing, “an incident arose while I was at the Cloud Recesses…”

“Did they encourage you to divorce me?”

“Not seriously – ” Which meant that they had? “– and that is not the issue in question. Have you at any point instructed your disciples to refer to me as Madam Wen?”

Wen Ruohan was not an idiot.

“Certainly not,” he lied. “I can’t imagine why they would ever do such a thing.”

Lan Qiren sighed, clearly spotting the lie and just as clearly having no idea what to do with it. “It is inappropriate,” he said. “I am your husband, not your wife, and that means I am not Madam Wen.”

“You can be my husband and Madam Wen,” Wen Ruohan argued. “It would be funnier that way.”

“It would be confusing that way. Enough people assume that I am the wife already simply because you are more powerful both personally and politically, and that it is without further linguistic snarls.”

That seemed less important than the potential for humor, at least for Wen Ruohan.

“How do you see the roles of husband and wife anyway?” he asked, belatedly curious. “You don’t seem to associate them with household tasks, with sexual positions, or with power dynamics, or for that matter, as far as I can determine, with anything else. What exactly do you see as constituting your role as the husband, as opposed to the wife?”

Lan Qiren looked surprised to be asked such a question. “There are any number of applicable rules,” he started, and Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes: of course there were. “However, to sum up the relevant duties, as the husband, it is my duty to make you happy: to love you as I love myself, to honor you more than myself, to seek to do everything in my power to see that your needs and wishes are fulfilled. In return, as my wife, you are bound to love and honor me, to be faithful to me, and to trust me, abiding by my wishes even when they may contradict your own.”

The Gusu Lan sect was insane, Wen Ruohan decided, not for the first time. What sort of ridiculous definitions of husband and wife were those? No one else put it like that! No one else even thought about it like that! What sort of monastery had Lan An come from, anyway…?

Though Wen Ruohan supposed, if one put it in those terms, then in fact that it really was more appropriate for him to be the wife. He wasn’t exactly very good at living up to ‘honor another more than yourself’ and never had been, and he was too self-absorbed to really care to spend all his time worrying about someone else’s needs, but he was certainly capable of love, respect, faith, and trust. Certainly he was the one who kept compromising his actions in order to accommodate Lan Qiren’s ridiculous notions of morality…not that doing so had impeded any of his ambitions to date.

On the contrary, with the Jin sect in his pocket, the Jiang sect heirs secure in the Nightless City, and the potential for Lan Qiren to keep his nephews there as well – an idea that had very obviously not yet arisen in Lan Qiren’s mind, but which Wen Ruohan fully intended to use to convince him that the Wen sect temporarily taking over Gusu Lan until said nephews were of age wasn’t that bad an idea – it seemed that listening to Lan Qiren was suiting him quite well indeed. How convenient that one of Wen Ruohan’s ‘needs and wishes’ that Lan Qiren was obligated to try to deliver happened to include taking over the cultivation world.

In fact, if Wen Ruohan could somehow find a way to maintain the status quo, he would have in a single season effectively conquered, in practice if not in fact, not one but three of the other Great Sects. The only one left outside his grasp was therefore just Qinghe Nie…

Ah. Right.

He’d almost forgotten.

If one thought about it in a certain light, he also stood a good chance of making an inroad into taking over Qinghe Nie, because the current sect leader of Qinghe Nie, Lao Nie, was – imminently going to die.

He could take advantage of that, if he wanted.

He could, Wen Ruohan insisted to himself, even as he was swept by a wave of revulsion towards himself at the mere thought; it was just a matter of politics, and things like that happened in politics. It wasn’t as though this were anything like what had happened with Wen Ruoyu, the betrayal of someone who trusted him. Lao Nie didn’t trust anyone, even when he loved them sincerely – and he did love him in his own way, Wen Ruohan did not doubt, only that it happened to be the wrong sort of love for what Wen Ruohan really wanted.

Betraying Lao Nie…would be more like what he’d done to his first wife.

That had been a mutual tragedy. Their needs and wants had been incompatible from the very start, but they’d made a go of it anyway, and when it had started falling apart, they had not managed their reactions well, each of them blaming each other, each of them justifying their own actions against each other, hurting each other, betraying each other, and in the end –

In the end they’d destroyed everything.

Wen Ruohan instinctively grimaced.

No, he couldn’t do that again. He would have to find another way. Perhaps Lan Qiren would be able to think of something –

Wait.

Lan Qiren.

Lan Qiren, who had no way to know that Wen Ruohan’s expression of disgust and revulsion had nothing to do with their current conversation!

“I was thinking of Lao Nie,” he blurted out, trying to explain, and then realized how badly that statement could be taken. They were right in the middle of discussion about their married life, and he’d started thinking about his former lover..!

“Yes, it was very fortunate that he was here to assist you,” Lan Qiren said, nodding with approval, apparently missing the more unfortunate set of implications entirely. “And convenient, since we wanted to speak with him anyway. Have you had an opportunity to discuss his condition? Or were you planning to wait until I was present?”

“I avoided it entirely,” Wen Ruohan said. He’d never been so relieved at Lan Qiren’s lack of understanding of innuendo. Do not give your wife reason to doubt your fidelity… “Do you think now is a good time? There is still the matter of your brother to deal with. They were friends, once, too.”

He wouldn’t mind putting off the conversation a little longer, personally.

“It will never be a good time,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “It may as well be now. Anyway, it is not as though we are going to him to offer our condolences, we are going to offer our help. Didn’t his sect doctors predict that he had ten years left? He is hardly at risk of immediate decline.”

You don’t know that! Wen Ruohan wanted to protest. Each qi deviation could be the one that takes him away, and the only way to stop it will be to solve a problem that generations upon generations of Qinghe Nie have failed to unravel. Lao Nie will never stop cultivating with his saber, will never give up his clan’s traditions, and ten years is not as long as you might think –

Though, on the other hand, I am a genius among geniuses. Lao Nie’s ancestors might have looked before, but they never had me on their side. Maybe it’s not so hopeless after all.

“We should go see him,” Lan Qiren said, either not noticing or perhaps politely ignoring whatever was happening on Wen Ruohan’s face. Knowing him, it was probably the former. “Particularly if he’s been forced to safeguard my brother, which must be emotionally taxing given the state of their relationship. Tell me, where is he now?”

Wen Ruohan was about to answer, only to realize he had no idea, having not particularly wanted to pay any attention to Qingheng-jun for any longer than it had taken to hand him over to Lao Nie in the first place. Qingheng-jun had spent the first part of the journey back to Jinlin Tower in a dignified silence, but as they’d drawn nearer, something had changed, and he had started talking about Lan Qiren again, clearly trying to goad Wen Ruohan into a response. Wen Ruohan hadn’t let him succeed, of course, but the temptation to find a tall window and shove him out of it without a sword had been very strong.

(Sometimes Wen Ruohan missed his Fire Palace. He hadn’t even dismantled it yet, though he intended to, and he already missed it. Not that he’d be dismantling all of it. There were always people that needed to be properly interrogated, and his machines would still serve quite well for that, even if they’d now go unused the majority of the time. It was only a pity that Qingheng-jun had nothing to say that anyone needed to hear. Certainly not Lan Qiren, that was for certain.)

“Easily found,” he said with an idle shrug, and went to the door of the room he’d been using as an office, waving over one of the disciples waiting outside. “Where is Lao Nie?”

The disciple saluted. “Sect Leader, he is just outside, in your courtyard.”

“In my courtyard?” Wen Ruohan asked, surprised that Lao Nie was so close by – and in such an unguarded location, too. Lao Nie was confident in his own abilities, and rightfully so, but for all of his rage, he was typically a surprisingly cautious fighter. Normally speaking, he would not take unnecessary risks. Keeping Qingheng-jun in an open courtyard seemed a dubious choice, and yet abandoning his duty to watch over him when he had promised to do so seemed – out of character.

Not yet, surely…!

Lan Qiren frowned. “That seems unlike him,” he observed, confirming Wen Ruohan’s sudden apprehension. “Let us go at once.”

When they went out to find him, Lao Nie was indeed there, sitting on a bench and cleaning his saber with all apparent ease, seeming as though he did not have a care in the world.

Qingheng-jun…was nowhere in sight.

Wen Ruohan felt his eye twitch. “Lao Nie!” he bellowed. “What are you doing?”

Lao Nie paused in what he was doing.

Then, he very exaggeratedly looked down at his saber and the cleaning cloth in his hand, then up at the two of them. “Come on, Hanhan,” he said, opening his eyes excessively wide. “I know for a fact that it hasn’t been that long since you handled a weapon. Aren’t you married now?”

Wen Ruohan had been gearing up to shout at him, but, as so often happened, Lao Nie’s humor cut his anger off at the knees. It was impossible to remain properly angry when you were fighting off laughter, which made Lao Nie’s approach to dealing with Wen Ruohan’s anger simultaneously devastatingly effective and also incredibly irritating.

Also, Lao Nie was perfectly aware that Wen Ruohan had actually used his sword to fight against Qingheng-jun. More recently than he’d had the chance to take advantage of Lan Qiren’s ‘sword,’ too, tragic and in need of quick remedying as that was…

“That was not the purpose behind his question and you know it,” Lan Qiren said mildly. “Hello, Lao Nie. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you two,” Lao Nie said, immediately actually answering the virtually identical question in what seemed like a thoroughly unfair display of blatant favoritism. “One of the Wen sect disciples said they saw you arrive, Qiren, and go to talk to Hanhan. So I came here to wait until you were done.”

That answer was all well and good, quite reasonable, everything in order, except for one critical point.

“Shouldn’t you be watching Qingheng-jun?” Wen Ruohan asked.

Lao Nie shrugged. “No need.”

“No need?” Wen Ruohan scowled at him, annoyed all over again. “Lao Nie, did you not hear me earlier? I wanted you to watch him, because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t find a way out if the only ones guarding him were my disciples. Or yours, for that matter! He’s tricky and resourceful, even if he’s been disarmed. Who knows what trouble he’s gotten into already – ”

“He won’t be getting into any trouble,” Lao Nie said. “He’s dead.”

Wen Ruohan was about to retort with something devastatingly clever and cutting, likely about the importance of living up to responsibilities and one’s given word, but then whatever he had been about to say entirely dropped out of his mind as Lao Nie’s words entered it.

“I’m sorry,” he said blankly. “He’s what?!”

“Lao Nie, did you just say that he was dead?” Lan Qiren asked, frowning. “My brother? Dead?”

“My condolences, Qiren,” Lao Nie said, sounding completely genuine and sincere and also immensely missing the point. “Really. I know you two weren’t close, and that by the end you probably pretty much hated each other, but he was still your brother. You have my sympathies for the loss of what you could have had, if not for what you did.”

“Thank you,” Lan Qiren said. He sounded extremely polite, and extremely confused, the latter being a feeling which Wen Ruohan shared in its entirety. “I appreciate your consideration. Putting that aside, could you perhaps explain what happened, exactly? My brother is dead? How did he suddenly die?”

Wen Ruohan rather wanted to know that himself, especially since Qingheng-jun had been in perfectly reasonable condition when he’d delivered him into Lao Nie’s custody.

But then, how…?

“He killed himself,” Lao Nie said. His face was as casual and composed as if he were relaying the weather, rather than telling a bald-faced lie.

It was absolutely impossible that Qingheng-jun had decided to commit suicide.

As far as Wen Ruohan knew, the man had refused that particular route twice already, first in refusing to actively kill himself in the immediate aftermath of realizing he had murdered his wife, and second in refusing to passively permit Wen Ruohan to kill him. Even his last-moment surrender had been a deliberate ploy designed to extend his life, giving up even his dignity to do so. His dignity, his revenge, his pride…no, Qingheng-jun had been defiant and bitter to the last, blaming others and Lan Qiren in particular for all of his misfortunes.

For him to suddenly turn around and die by his own hand now, after everything – no, it was impossible. Absolutely impossible!

“Oh, suicide, really,” Wen Ruohan said, snide and incredulous. “Really, you don’t say. Tell me, if he killed himself, how exactly did he manage it? I disarmed him myself, so I know for a fact that he didn’t have access to his sword…”

“He used my saber,” Lao Nie said.

Wen Ruohan stared at him.

Lan Qiren stared at him.

Lao Nie…

Lao Nie’s lips twitched.

“Your saber,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “Your saber. Your spiritual weapon, which you entrust to no one, and which obeys only you. The saber that can, if it wishes, quite literally bite its wielder if it dislikes who is holding it. We are speaking of – that saber?”

Wen Ruohan hadn’t known about the biting thing. Was that really a thing? That seemed quite useful… Wait. When exactly did Lan Qiren have the chance to hold Lao Nie’s saber long enough to find that out?! Lao Nie hadn’t even given it to Wen Ruohan to hold!

Well, that was probably good thinking on his part. But that wasn’t the point.

“That’s the one,” Lao Nie said, sounding almost cheerful, or at least as though he were having a fair amount of fun watching their expressions, which he almost certainly was. “Good old Jiwei.”

Wen Ruohan thought, not for the first time, of how good it would feel to punch Lao Nie in the face. Just once. Once, but very hard.

Based on Lan Qiren’s expression at the moment, he might be amenable.

“Let me make sure I understand what you are saying,” Lan Qiren said, looking as though he were summoning all of his many years of emotional regulation to try to keep himself calm. “You are saying that my brother somehow managed to get hold of your saber and used it to end his own life. Is that what you are saying?”

“Not quite,” Lao Nie said, holding up his hands. “I’m saying that he killed himself, and also that if you have a doctor examine his body, you’ll find that the cause of his death was my saber.”

“Lao Nie,” Wen Ruohan hissed, finding himself appalled despite everything, up to and including his own deep and sincere desire to see Qingheng-jun dead. “What is wrong with you? Are you suggesting that he killed himself by walking into your saber?!”

Lao Nie snickered.

He actually snickered.

“Lao Nie!” Wen Ruohan shouted. “You said you were going to help!”

Lao Nie’s smile abruptly faded away. “I did help.”

“Lao Nie – ”

“Hanhan, you sometimes forget this – in fact, you often forget this – but I am not actually one of your subordinates,” Lao Nie interrupted, his expression unusually solemn. “I don’t follow your orders, and I apply my own principles to the situations I find myself in, not yours. I appreciate that you and Lan Qiren have decided that you don’t want to kill unarmed prisoners that have surrendered, particularly not without a trial, which is quite correct of you. I understand your reasoning in applying that principle even to Qingheng-jun, even when his sole reason to stay alive is to cause further harm, and if it were under any other circumstances, I’d respect it.”

Wen Ruohan was left speechless.

Lan Qiren merely pressed his lips together. “What circumstances do you mean?”

“Only this,” Lao Nie said. “That there is no greater good than showing kindness to a madman, once he has passed the point of no return.”

Ah.

That was –

That made more sense.

Given the Nie sect’s history – their traditions, their qi deviations, their ancestral madness – given what Lao Nie himself had so recently discovered about himself, about his own fate, his own imminent fate –

For a sudden moment, Wen Ruohan found himself unable to breathe.

“Oh,” Lao Nie said, watching whatever was happening on his face. “You know. I see. How?”

“Your son told us,” Lan Qiren said. “Nie Mingjue. He’s a good boy.”

Lao Nie laughed and shook his head. “Yes, he is,” he said fondly. “A very good boy – though where he got those ridiculous morals, I don’t know. He’s as inflexible as you, Qiren, in his own way. Anyway, you both don’t need to look so upset. It’s fine.”

“It is most certainly not fine,” Wen Ruohan said at once.

“Well, no, it’s not,” Lao Nie conceded. “But there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s as inevitable, as sure as the dawn.”

Wen Ruohan had heard that before, though under circumstances that had meant much less to him personally. Cangse Sanren had said something similar, equally resigned, talking about that big scary beast that was coming to tear her limb from limb, and she’d been just as certain of her immovable fate as Lao Nie was about his.

“It’s inevitable, so there’s no point in worrying about it now, is that it?” he asked with a sneer. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I didn’t say that,” Lao Nie protested.

“You meant it,” Lan Qiren pointed out, and Lao Nie, caught out, smiled ruefully. “Lao Nie, we are only saying that we wish to help – ”

“And I’m saying that it’s pointless. Don’t you think we’ve tried? My family, going back generations, we’ve all tried our best to stop it. We can’t. Once it starts, there’s nothing you can do about it – ”

If there was one thing Wen Ruohan hated in this life, perhaps even above betrayal, it was being told that there was something he couldn’t do.

He was Wen Ruohan. He had spent his whole life laughing in the face of those that underestimated him, those that challenged or disdained him, and now all those people were long dead and forgotten. These days, there was no one alive who underestimated him, no one who thought that they could tell him what he couldn’t do. He had defied even the heavens themselves, perfecting his cultivation and breaking the limits of the human lifespan, living beyond the usual expectations even for a cultivator, and he was still as hale as he had ever been. Soon enough, with Lan Qiren’s help, he would undoubtedly even break through the barrier that separated god from man, and become divine.

And Lao Nie had the gall to say that there was nothing he could do about it?

Wen Ruohan was not going to take that lying down. It was the most disrespectful thing he had had someone say to him in – well, admittedly, since Cangse Sanren, which wasn’t that long ago, and Lan Qiren wasn’t exactly all that respectful either, though in a way Wen Ruohan enjoyed rather a great deal.

No: ancestral Nie sect mystery or not, he was going to find a way to fix it. At a minimum, he was going to find a way to buy some time, to prevent any further decline and forestall death, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even Lao Nie, get in his way.

Lao Nie was just going to have to live with that.

Admittedly, at this precise moment, he looked particularly unwilling to accept that conclusion, that stubborn mule-headed Qinghe Nie look fixed firmly on his face even as he argued, rather unwisely, with Lan Qiren. As if Lan Qiren, just fresh off winning a battle of words with his entire sect, was going to let him win this one, particularly when Lao Nie’s arguments seemed to mostly revolve around the same basic point.

“It’s inevitable,” he said, dragging out the sound. “In-ev-it-a-ble. Why are you and Hanhan having such trouble with that concept? There are things in this life that we can change, Qiren, and there are things we can’t, and this is one of the latter. It’s as inevitable as the dawn, as sure as sunrise – ”

There was that phrase again, the one Cangse Sanren had used to describe her own doom. It was irritating to be surrounded by stubborn people convinced they were about to die, Lao Nie to rage and a qi deviation, Cangse Sanren to that future beast. A pity it wasn’t the other way around! There was no one better for defeating a beast than one of Qinghe Nie, descendants of butchers that they were, and Cangse Sanren seemed almost immune to the ravages of rage, forgetting each moment what happened in the previous one. Possibly that was even literal for her, given her idiosyncratic understanding of time, a remnant perhaps of living on a celestial mountain with an immortal…

Hm.

Now that was an idea.

“I am not giving up,” Lao Nie said impatiently, while Lan Qiren frowned and shook his head at him. “Don’t put it that way, it sounds bad. It’s not the same thing at all! I am just trying to be realistic. It would foolish to ignore facts and fail to adequately prepare myself, my sons, and my sect for what is going to happen – ”

“As foolish as refusing to accept help in the event that the preparations you make need not apply?”

“Damnit, Qiren, stop talking circles around me.”

“Stop being wrong first.”

Lao Nie gaped at him, then cackled. “I like this version of you,” he said. “Hanhan’s a surprisingly good influence on you, which I admit I wouldn’t have predicted.”

“We are Dao companions,” Lan Qiren said impatiently. “Naturally we mutually improve each other. Do not change the subject.”

“Qiren…”

“Lao Nie, there are things that a man may choose to face on his own. I have never denied that. If you truly deny us, we will desist – ”

Maybe Lan Qiren would.

“– but just as you are our friend, we are your friends, and we wish to help you. Would you deny us that chance?”

Oh, that was a good argument, particularly for someone like Lao Nie, and Wen Ruohan could see the exact moment Lao Nie’s resistance cracked under the weight of Lan Qiren’s earnest sincerity.

“Oh, all right,” Lao Nie grumbled, scrubbing his face and letting out a lengthy sigh. “I suppose I wouldn’t. Fine. Whatever. You can go ahead and bash your brains against the problem for a bit, if that’s what you really want…but Qiren, please understand and prepare yourself, this is something my sect has been trying to solve for a very long time. It is entirely possible, even likely, that in the end, the only help you will be able to give me is the sort of help I provided your brother.”

Lan Qiren’s stern expression softened. “I understand. But thank you for letting us try.”

“In fact, I’ve got an idea,” Wen Ruohan announced, and grinned when they both looked at him. “Well, the beginning of one, anyway. Qiren’s right, there are many benefits to taking a problem and making it someone else’s.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Lao Nie remarked, his eyes narrowing a little in suspicion. “Hanhan…”

“You need not be concerned,” Lan Qiren told him firmly. “Any idea he has, I will first approve. Or are you saying you do not trust in my good faith?”

“…fair point. All right, I retract my doubts.”

Wen Ruohan scowled. “Lao Nie – ”

Lao Nie pointed at him. “You have a torture palace.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

Now they were both looking at him with indulgent expressions that suggested he already knew the answer to that.

Possibly he did.

“I’ve already planned to repurpose the majority of it,” Wen Ruohan said defensively. “I do not require it as much, any longer.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Hanhan,” Lao Nie said warmly, and in the face of his own straightforward sincerity Wen Ruohan found that he had trouble maintaining his anger. “Really, you have no idea how happy it makes me that you’ve finally found your way out…but also, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

That was fair.

“You know, we never did get the chance to talk at the Lotus Pier discussion conference that wasn’t,” Lao Nie mused. “I wanted to hear all about how the two of you managed to fall in love – and I still do, for that matter.”

“We got married,” Lan Qiren said, as if that answered the question.

“…I’m going to redirect the question to Hanhan,” Lao Nie said dryly, clearly agreeing with Wen Ruohan on the blatant insufficiency of Lan Qiren’s answer. “Actually, while we’re at it, how did you end up proposing marriage to Qiren anyway? I didn’t even think you liked him.”

“Mm, I didn’t. It takes a truly great man to see what he has overlooked and correct his own errors, but luckily – ”

“He wanted to use me to take over the cultivation world,” Lan Qiren said with a sigh, pointedly ignoring Wen Ruohan’s bragging. “Through my students, of all things. I still think the whole notion is utterly ridiculous.”

Lao Nie’s expression went abruptly thoughtful in a way that suggested that he certainly didn’t think the idea was all that ridiculous. A moment later he grinned.

“Well, Qiren, you have to admit that putting aside the students, it didn’t work out that badly for him.”

“He has not taken over the cultivation world.”

“If you pay a little attention, actually, you’ll find that I have,” Wen Ruohan said smugly. “Or at least considerable portions of it.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Hanhan,” Lao Nie said, even as Lan Qiren looked as if he were hunting for some way to refute the irrefutable. “Don’t forget: whether you rule the world or not, you still have to clear everything you do with Qiren first!”

“That is not the situation,” Lan Qiren insisted. “He has not taken over the world – Lao Nie – stop smirking at me, you intolerable annoyance – ”

Wen Ruohan tuned them both out as he considered what Lao Nie had said. Whatever Lan Qiren’s denials, it had to be admitted that Wen Ruohan’s influence now extended well into the other Great Sects, which had previously been inviolable, with a few omissions, but equally it had to be admitted that this wasn’t exactly the tyrannical dictatorship he’d always envisioned for himself when thinking about the day that his Wen sect eventually took over.

He hadn’t counted on Lan Qiren being there, for one. And even if he had, he would never have assumed that he would voluntarily bind himself to following Lan Qiren’s ridiculously strict morality, even when the man himself was not present to object – except he had, hadn’t he? The way he had dealt with Qingheng-jun…that wasn’t a mere aberration, an outlier, a favor he’d been doing for Lan Qiren. He’d done the right thing because he knew Lan Qiren would want him to.

If he wanted to keep Lan Qiren, Wen Ruohan was going to have to do that about everything.

It was going to be a gigantic pain.

But on the other hand, he did rule the world now.

Ah, whatever. If that’s the trade – I’ll take it!

Wen Ruohan reached out and, ignoring Lao Nie’s presence, pulled Lan Qiren into a kiss.

Lan Qiren –

Well, Lan Qiren kicked him.

“Inappropriate!” he spluttered. “We’re in front of company! Keep your hands to yourself!”

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Lao Nie murmured appreciatively. “On the contrary…”

“Absolutely not,” Lan Qiren said. Firmly.

“But –”

“No.”

“Hanhan –”

“Also no,” Wen Ruohan said, and watched with interest as Lao Nie blinked, absorbing that, and then, after a moment, shrugged it off, just as he did anything else. It probably ought to have hurt to see him simply shrug off a relationship that had lasted over a decade just like that, but…well, that was Lao Nie, heartless and careless. That was the real Lao Nie, the way he ought to be.

And Wen Ruohan…well, Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren, and he was far better off for it.

“Fine, then,” Lao Nie said. “That means I can go back and find that dragon –”

“Lao Nie!” Lan Qiren howled. “You are not, and I mean absolutely not, going to go find and – ”

Wen Ruohan started laughing.

This was going to be good.

----

A/N: and that's it! next chapter is the epilogue :) thanks to everyone for reading!

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #Megafic

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Hi! First off, I want to say how awesome and well-organized this page is. I know how much work it must be to put it together. I do think that the word retired has an air of finality to it, like it's implied that the authors who appear on the retired authors list are done writing THG fics. But they might just have stuff going on in their lives or writers block and that's why they haven't updated in awhile. I feel like there might be some authors who won't enjoy finding themselves on that list. Anyway, thanks for hearing me out. I've enjoyed seeing all your posts.

Hello!

Thank you so much for your perspective! I can understand where this is coming from and did debate on what term to use for categorizing the authors, which is why I do put that note on the top of each masterlist noting the differences in categorization. I, in no way, meant to imply that these authors are never coming back into the writing game! I've seen writers take years off and come back into the writing game stronger than ever. I'm truly sorry if it came off that way.

I looked into a few other fandom blogs similar to this and noticed "retired" being a main word used for authors who haven't updated fics in a while but are active in the fandom or writing but from other fandoms. I've also seen the word "Hiatus" used and debated on that for a while. I'm always open to suggestions and comments like these, especially from authors as you are the individuals most directly affected by my word choices. I never intended to make authors feel upset and tried my best to use more inclusive terms. I chose not to do "inactive authors" series for this exact reason because I did not want someone to stumble upon the list and be hurt by it in some way.

Please continue to share your thoughts on how I can make this blog more inclusive of everyone in the fandom and how I can use my language in a better way for this specific series which is "a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year". Or let me know if the series should be terminated if the idea isn't a good one. I truly thought that by highlighting these authors it may help more people find them and perhaps inspire them to write again or at the very least have a nice few comments to discover one day. BUT if this series seems in poor taste please let me know!

As followers of the blog, or THG writers, I'd like your input on what that series should be called. I'll make the appropriate changes/edits to upcoming releases and past releases in accordance with the results of the poll.

I put the a week timer on the poll and will hold the remaining posts in that series until this poll closes and we decide on a new term as a community.

Again, I am so sorry if I offended or hurt anyone in the community. I strive to create an inclusive and friendly safe for everyone!

-Admin:e

#thg fanfiction #thg #admin:e #ask #i am truly sorry if I made anyone on that list feel bad about being on that list #I didn't intend for that and was simply thinking it'd be a good way to boost those authors up since they were still active #I thought by creating a series highlighting those authors it may shine light on their works and help them get inspired again #or at least have more nice comments to read about their works #again I am so sorry if i offended those on the list or any writer in general with my choice of words

[sfb123]

Hands Down

Chapter 2: "Waves"

Catch up here!

Pairing: Liam x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: Can Liam and Riley still find their way to each other despite Riley turning down Maxwell's invitation to Cordonia?

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,304

Song Inspiration: Waves - Dean Lewis

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out, life hit me hard the last month (both good and bad), but here it is. I promise I'll be better about regular releases.

A/N 2: Thank you to @ao719 for the song suggestion, and helping me work through some of the made up in my head issues.

A/N 3: This was not properly beta'd, so please excuse the many errors.

Tags are below the cut/in the comments. If you'd like to be added or removed, please let me know!

“His Highness, Crown Prince Liam Rys.” 

All conversations halted, and heads turned to the doors at the front of the room as Liam entered the ballroom. It was the final night of the social season, and he was only hours away from becoming the King of Cordonia. 

This also meant he was only hours away from having to announce which suitor would become his queen. 

He surveyed the room, observing each of the women, hoping for some sign as to who the right choice would be. He had spent the last few months with them at various events, spending one on one time with each woman, trying to make a connection or find a spark of something. He would always end up comparing them to her, and they would always come up short. 

But she wasn’t here. She rejected the invitation. 

Throughout the social season, his mind would drift to thoughts of Riley Brooks, memories of their night together. But that’s all they were, and all they would ever be. He had barely slept since the season began, spending his nights going over his options, trying to figure out who would be the best choice to rule by his side. 

Kiara Thorton, a polyglot with a natural sense of diplomacy. She would certainly be an asset in building relationships and alliances. But would she have the compassion and candor needed to win over the citizens? 

Penelope Ebrim, compassionate to a fault. However, her naivete would prove challenging during the more complex aspects of the job.

Hana Lee, a newcomer to Cordonian court. In the brief interactions Liam had with her, he found her to be kind yet incredibly timid and insecure. It was a toss up which one of them was least enthused to be a part of all of this. She was obviously there on her parent’s order alone.

Olivia Nevrakis, one of Liam’s oldest and dearest friends. She certainly cared for him, and he for her. But not the way a husband should care for his wife. Besides, she was a Nevrakis, a family with a checkered past in the Cordonian history books. She would be a controversial choice, questioned by many. 

And finally, Madeleine Amaranth, the top contender in the press and with the council, including Liam’s parents. She had been his brother’s chosen suitor, jilted when he made the decision to abdicate. It was an unofficial betrothal agreement when they were children, so she had spent her whole life in training to sit on the throne. Everyone was sure that she would be Liam’s choice. Everyone, except for Liam. 

While he did agree that Madeleine would be an excellent queen, there was something missing. He didn’t feel he could be the best king possible with her by his side. He needed a wife that would see him, and support him as a man, not just a king. He wanted to be able to retire for the evening and spend time as a family. He didn’t see that with Madeleine, her strength was also her weakness. He needed to be able to just be Liam sometimes, with Madeleine, he would always be the king. 

“Little brother!” Liam was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of his brother’s voice. 

“Leo? What are you doing here?” 

“I couldn’t miss your big night!” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “So, have you made your choice?”

Liam sighed at the question. His choice would have been for Leo to live up to his birthright, allowing him to remain the spare and hold on to a small semblance of freedom. “You will see in due time.” He responded, not wanting to admit that he still hadn’t decided. 

“Oh, come on. Not even a hint?”

“How was the cruise?” Liam asked, diverting the attention away from himself. 

“Ugh,” Leo groaned. “It didn’t go quite as planned.”

“So that woman, the one Madeleine found in your bed?” 

“Yeah, she’s in someone else’s bed now.” He said nonchalantly. 

Liam’s jaw ticked, as his fists clenched at his side. The woman who had captivated Leo so much that he had abdicated the throne, and put all of this on Liam’s shoulders, was with someone else. Leo gave everything up for nothing. 

“Your Highnesses,” a voice interrupted before Liam could respond. The brothers turned to find a photographer holding up a camera to them. “Can I get a quick picture?” 

“Of course, my good man!” Leo threw his arm around Liam, pulling him to his side. Liam put on his most stoic smile, hiding all of the emotions that were flowing through him in that moment. 

Once the picture was taken, the photographer thanked the pair before bowing and stepping away. 

“I don’t regret a second of it,” Leo continued once they were alone. “Everyone comes into your life for a reason, she helped me to see that this wasn’t the life I was meant for.” He signaled to the opulence of the room around them. “I needed to step away and find my own path. I’m not there yet, but I’m figuring it out.”

Liam nodded, noticing the parallels in their situations. In that moment, it all clicked, and he knew exactly what his decision would be. “If you’ll excuse me Leo, I need to meet with father before the announcement.”  

“Of course, knock ‘em dead, bro!” 

As Liam walked across the ballroom, looking for his father, his mind began to race. Maybe Riley wasn’t the love of his life, maybe that night was just meant to be a sign. Perhaps he could have it all, be the best king he could be without sacrificing his happiness. 

“Excuse me,” Liam said, interrupting Constantine, who was deep in conversation with Madeleine's father. No doubt making plans for the impending engagement tour. “Father, if I may have a word with you, privately?” 

“You’re going to be making your announcement shortly, we can speak afterwards.” He replied dismissively. 

“Please, it’s urgent.” Liam insisted. 

Constantine excused himself from his conversation and followed Liam into his study, closing the door behind him. As soon as they were away from the eyes of the court Liam’s demeanor changed, he seemed anxious, pacing back and forth across the floor. Constantine attributed it to the changes he would be going through in the next hour, and was grateful that he was able to conceal those emotions when he was in front of others. 

“Godfrey and I were just discussing the engagement tour. We are going to begin in Fydelia, since it is the home of your future betrothed.” Constantine broke the silence in the room.

“I’m not choosing Madeleine.” Liam stated flatly. 

Constantine’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Well, there will certainly be some damage control needed, but it’s not the end of the world. Don’t tell me you’ve chosen the Nevrakis girl. I know you two are close, but she was only invited to participate out of obligation. She cannot sit on the throne.” 

“No, I’m not choosing Olivia.” Liam took a deep breath, preparing himself. “I will not be choosing one of the suitors.”

“But son, you need to be engaged to ascend the throne. You know I’m in poor health, I need to step down before…”

“That’s why I wanted to speak with you,” Liam interrupted. “I would like for you to make a change to the law. One final decree as reigning king.” He noticed his father’s trepidation, and continued speaking. “I just don’t think I can be the king Cordonia needs, or deserves, if I am married to one of those women. You know how important it is for a king to have the right queen by his side.”

“I do, that’s why I’ve been encouraging you to choose the countess. She has been preparing for this role since she was a child.” 

“So have I, I went through all of the same lessons that Leo did. I can be a great king on my own, until I find a queen that will be good for this country, and for me.” Liam pleaded with his father. 

Constantine studied Liam’s expression, he was steadfast and unwavering. “And if I refuse?”

“Then when I go up on stage tonight and I will announce my abdication. I believe the line of succession would then fall to the Nevrakis girl,” he mimicked Constantine’s earlier tone. “And you’ve made it quite clear how you feel about that.” 

The reigning king’s eyes went wide at Liam’s ultimatum. “You would throw thousands of years of tradition away over this?” 

“Over my happiness? Absolutely.” Liam’s expression softened in a final attempt to get his father to understand. “Cordonia deserves me at my best, and I cannot do that with one of these suitors, so I would rather step down than give them anything less.” 

“You are certainly a fierce negotiator.” Constantine observed. 

“I’ve learned from the best.” Liam replied, he smirked at his father, hoping to lighten the mood slightly. He was unsuccessful. 

“And where do you imagine you’re going to find this woman?” Constantine asked. “I will not have you plastering your personal information all over these dating websites I’ve been hearing about.” 

“No sir, I wouldn’t,” Liam assured. “I much prefer making a face to face connection.” 

Constantine stood in pensive silence, thinking about Liam’s proposition, but also studying his son. He was looking for even the slightest break in his expression, but there was none. Liam knew he was being tested and failing was not an option. 

“If I do this for you, you will make the announcement and deal with any of the fallout on your own.” He warned. 

Liam nodded in understanding. “Of course.” 

“Son, this conversation has shown me that you will be exactly the ruler this country needs.” Constantine placed a hand on his shoulder. “With or without a wife.” 

“Thank you, father.” Liam’s tone remained even, afraid his father might change his mind if he showed too much enthusiasm. Inwardly, he was screaming. 

“I will need about an hour to make the arrangements. You are to return to the ball, and keep this information to yourself. No one is to know until you step onstage and make the announcement.” 

“Yes sir,” Liam extended a hand, which his father shook briefly before pulling him into a hug.

“I’m proud of you, son.” Constantine said, patting him on the back before pulling away. “Now get out there and keep everyone occupied.”

Liam nodded with a smile, and returned to the ball feeling lighter than he had in months. 

As soon as he set foot in the ballroom, he was approached by Penelope, who asked him to dance. He obliged, and led her to the center of the floor. Penelope hadn’t stopped speaking once during their dance, but Liam didn’t hear a word she said. All he could think about was his announcement, and what this meant for him. He was one step closer to living his dream, and falling in love. 

Once the dance was over, Liam parted ways with Penelope and made his rounds through the room, his eyes intermittently flickering toward the door. As the time passed, his nerves grew, worried that his father may renege on their agreement. 

Liam was in the middle of a conversation with the Beaumonts when the music stopped, and a throat clearing over the speakers pulled his attention. He looked up to see his father standing on stage. 

Once the crowd quieted down, Constantine began to address them. “The moment we’ve been waiting for all season has finally arrived. It has been my great honor to serve Cordonia these last few decades.” His expression sombered as he continued. “We’ve had turmoil, but Cordonia has pulled together even during our toughest times. I couldn’t be more proud to have been Cordonia’s king.”

The crowd applauded as Constantine searched the faces for his son. When his eyes locked on Liam, he nodded. Liam took the signal and made his way to the stage. When he took his spot at his father’s side, Constantine continued. 

“I only now pass the crown to Prince Liam because I know he’ll carry on exactly as I have. I couldn’t ask for a better successor.” 

“Father…” Liam’s expression softened, touched by his words. 

“It’s true. I love your brother, but you are the king Cordonia needs.” He turned to smile at his youngest son before continuing. “You have more than proven that to me. Especially tonight. Today, I pass the royal signet ring to you. Cordonia is yours, my son.” 

As the crowd cheered, Constantine took a step back, standing beside Regina, as Liam took his place in front of the microphone. “Thank you all for being here tonight. This is an incredible honor and a responsibility that I don’t take lightly. I only hope that I can serve Cordonia with the distinction that my father did.” He turned to his father and step-mother, bowing to them before pulling them each into an embrace. 

“And now, the time has come, your prince will choose his bride.” Regina announced. 

“Actually,” Liam returned to the microphone. “In the interest of hitting the ground running, I spoke with my father earlier tonight, and he has put through one final decree as king.” Liam looked to his father, who nodded in approval. “I truly appreciate all of the ladies that participated in the season. Your grace and poise throughout the weeks has not gone unnoticed. Your unwavering support for this country is an inspiration. However, I will not be choosing a bride tonight.” 

The crowd immediately broke into gasps and murmurs as they took in Liam’s announcement. He looked out over the confused faces, taking in each of the suitors' reactions. Shock appeared to be the general consensus, until his eyes landed on Madeleine. Her expression remained impassive, but he could see the fire in her eyes before she abruptly turned and exited the ballroom. Liam did feel bad for her, this was her second time thinking she would become queen, and the second time the opportunity had been taken from her. 

Liam heard a throat clear behind him and he turned, locking eyes with Constantine. He didn’t have to say a word, Liam understood. He lifted a hand to silence the crowd. “If you will allow me to explain,” he said, once the noise had died down. “As I said, each of the suitors showed immeasurable grace and dedication to their country, all of which are crucial qualities for a queen. However, there was one very important qualification that I could not find. I was unable to connect with them in the way that a man should connect with his wife.” 

He paused for a moment, allowing a few whispers of confusion to ripple through the room. “I want to give this country my absolute best. To do that, I believe that I need to forge my own path, and find the right partner for me, and for this country.” 

Questions were shouted out rapid fire from the crowd, Liam once again raised a hand and waited for the room to quiet down. “I understand that there will be many questions and concerns, I will do my best to answer and address them all in due time. However, right now, we do need to proceed with this evening’s agenda. I appreciate your support, and look forward to continuing to guide Cordonia into greatness.”  

Liam ignored the lingering comments that were scattered throughout the crowd, and the evening went on as planned. He took his oath and was officially crowned the king of Cordonia. Despite the upset earlier in the evening, the tone for the rest of the event was full of cheer and hope. There were, understandably, lingering doubts about Liam’s decision, but the court had enough faith in him to be able to celebrate this moment for what it was, a new beginning for Cordonia. 

At the end of the night, once the guests had retired to their rooms, Liam sat on his throne, taking in the gravity of what had just happened.

“You know you don’t have to sleep on that thing, right?” The gruff voice of his best friend pulled him from his thoughts. 

“I know,” Liam responded. “I suppose I’m just letting things sink in.” 

“That’s fair,” he shrugged. “So what now?”

“Well, there will be a few interviews and photo ops with the press. I will need to be formally introduced to our allies and neighboring countries.” He paused for a moment. “I suppose we will need to rebrand what was supposed to be the engagement tour. I will work out the details in the morning.” 

“Yeah, let’s talk about that for a second,” Drake smirked. “What happened?”

Liam let out a humorless laugh. “Leo, of all things.” Drake looked at him curiously. “I was speaking with him earlier, and he was telling me about that woman from the cruise. It didn’t work out.” 

“Shocking.” Drake deadpanned. 

“Right? Well, he said something that resonated with me.” Liam explained Leo’s theory, and how it inspired him to stand up to his father, and forge his own path.

“That’s great Li, I’m really proud of you for standing up for yourself.” Drake congratulated his friend. “So when are you going to New York?” 

Liam’s gaze snapped up, meeting Drake’s. “What do you mean? Why would I go to New York?” 

“For the waitress.” Drake said with an arched brow. He knew Liam better than that. “That’s what all of this was about, wasn’t it?”

“Not quite,” Liam sighed. “Riley was my sign, not my soulmate. She made it clear that my feelings are not returned.” 

“What are you talking about? I’m pretty sure it was obvious to everyone but you that she was into you.” 

“Then why didn’t she accept Maxwell’s offer to join the social season?” 

“Seriously?” Drake slapped his palm against his forehead. “Listen, take a step back and look at it from her point of view. She has this whole life, a job, a family, friends, and you expected her to give all of that up and join this mess because of a couple of hours? Nobody in their right mind would do something like that.” 

Liam let out a deep breath, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, the moment has passed. I’m sure she’s moved on.” 

“Li, you literally changed history for this woman. You mean to tell me that you’re not even going to try?” 

“I changed history for myself.” Liam corrected him.  

“Fine, you changed history for yourself, but it was because of her.” Drake rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a couple of weeks before the tour starts, right?” Liam nodded. “Okay, so take care of all the press and that stuff now, once that’s died down, fly out to New York and find her. If she’s going to reject you, at least have her reject you to your face so you know for sure.” 

A silence took over the room as Liam considered Drake’s words. 

“At least think about it.” Drake finally spoke up.

Liam locked eyes with his friend. “Thank you, Drake” 

Drake nodded and took his leave, not wanting to push any further. It was a decision Liam would need to make on his own. 

As Liam walked to his room, the king’s quarters, he found himself more conflicted than ever. He thought that his announcement would leave him feeling lighter, more at ease with his new role as king. However after his talk with Drake, he had so much more to think about. Should he return to New York? Was it possible that he could still have a chance with Riley? 

He needed to start focusing on his duties as king, but once again, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. 

Permatag:

@3pawandme @alj4890 @busywoman @charlotteg234 @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @differenttyphoonwerewolf @emkay512 @foreverethereal123 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @imashybish @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @secretaryunpaid @sincerelyella @tessa-liam @theroyalheirshadowhunter @tinkie1973 @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Liam:

@amandablink @custaroonie @jared2612

TRR:

@21-wishes @ao719 @bascmve01 @belencha77 @burnsoslow @imjusthereforliam @kristinamae093 @lovingchoices14 @the0afnan

Hands Down:

@umccall71 

@choicesficwriterscreations

#the royal romace #trr #choices #choices trr #choices the royal romance #play choices #choices stories you play #cfwc #cfwc fics of the week #king liam #liam rys #king liam rys #liam x mc #liam x riley #trr liam #trr king liam #trr riley #trr riley brooks #trr au #trr au fanfic #the royal romance au #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr fan fic #trr fan fiction #trr fanfiction

[drabbles-of-writing]

Pretending Not to See Your Ghost

AO3

Chapters: 1, 2

Summary: Darius has begun to notice a  few...𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 between Hunter and his old mentor. From  appearance, to speech, to the smallest of characteristics, he always  swears he'll blink, and his mentor will be standing right where Hunter  once was, as though nothing had ever changed.

But he's sure it's only a coincidence.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Penstagram, unfortunately, had become more of an eyesore than it used to be.

The Emperor clearly had no understanding of technology, and it became evident to many Coven members that places like Penstagram were practically free-range to do pretty much whatever they wanted. Of course, plenty still used it to find the locations of wild witches, but for quick communications or revealing faces, barely anyone batted an eye. There would be no punishments for it.

Darius tried to use Penstagram for normal things. Occasional pictures, deleting DMs he very much did not want to see, passively aggressively shit-talking his coworkers, and shooting a few quick, non-incriminating messages between himself, Eberwolf, and Raine when needed be.

And then there was Hunter’s account.

He’d only followed it to keep an eye on him. He knew the intricacies of what was and wasn’t allowed on Penstagram, but Hunter might not have. He found it ludicrous to suggest the kid would blurt Coven secrets on his account, but he was still paranoid. The boy thought sunlight was optional on functional growth, he didn’t know what else he’d assumed about life.

Much to his increasing migraine, most of Hunter’s posts were about Flapjack. His profile picture was of his own face, covering only one of his scars, in his Golden Guard attire.

Darius had nearly gotten a heart attack before he saw just how many people assumed Hunter was a fake account. Or some otherwise young child dressing up to pretend as the Golden Guard. He suspected the fact that most of Hunter’s posts were blurry disasters (that, to his credit, did exclude anything else that could be directly linked back to him or the Coven) did quite a bit to aid in this doubt.

No one would find his account on accident, it was far too obscure, and never tagged properly. Darius still monitored it, of course, but he was a little more at ease, figuring they were all in the clear. Even if he wanted to take the boy by the shoulders and plead him to be at least semi-functional with technology.

Then, as though Hunter had sensed Darius staring in dismay at his most recent failure of a post, the boy himself poked his head in through his office door.

“Uh, Darius?” Hunter asked, unsure, and Darius jerked his head up. 

He tried not to feel that old ping of nervousness when Hunter was slipping off his mask before he was fully in the office. Everyone knew Hunter’s face in the Coven, this was a normal, good thing. This was not something he had to be wary about others seeing.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Darius raised a brow, though he did set his scroll down. 

“Uh, well, y-yes, I was just doing that!” Hunter said quickly, and when Darius glanced down, he saw him holding his scroll up to his chest, walking over to his desk. “But then I started getting some messages, and I just wanted to…I wanted to see if these would be of interest?”

Darius, brow still raised, held out his hand. Hunter willingly handed it over without a second thought, Titan below this kid really needed to learn how to be a teenager, and Darius took a look at whatever he was talking about.

It was a DM, with what looked like a conversation between two hex-bots. Darius raised a brow, scrolling up—nope, that was Hunter’s texting. Good grief, it was atrocious.

The other one was a bot, at least. A very obvious one, in fact.

LIke.fabriCS? to muhc woRk ? CLICK HERE!

Hunter seemed to have been trying to respond to the bot, interrogating it about details. To which it fell apart into incoherent, insane texts.

“Hunter, this is a scam.” He deadpanned, though he supposed he could only be so exasperated. The kid had no phone, of course he didn’t know about people trying to hex scrolls.

“Gus said that, too.” Hunter frowned, ears pressing back. “He told me not to click a link?” He added, frowning, face scrunched up. 

“The underlined words. Of which he is correct.” Darius said, deciding not to ask who that was as he handed the phone back. “You’d get hexed.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter sounded truly disappointed, looking down at his scroll screen. “I thought more fabrics would be nice, ‘cause you have your own…”

“I have money to get more, just borrow mine.” Darius sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. He tried not to feel too twisted up when Hunter looked at him with pure shock. “In the future, just don’t talk to any messages you get that aren’t from your friends.”

“But how could I get hexed through some…underlined words?” Hunter squinted at his scroll, holding his phone up to his face.

“It’s a link, Hunter.”

“Like a chain?”

“Titan’s sake,” Darius groaned, dropping his face into his hand, “it’s like teaching an old man.”

“I’m not old!”

(“You’re such an old man.” Darius snickered, looking from the crystal ball to the face smooshed up against it.

“Hey!” Jasper barked, finally tearing away from it to send a pouting glare, of which Darius could only barely restrain a laugh. “I’m not old! I’m practically your age!”

“Oh, so now you’re my age?” Darius scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back, smug. “Is that why you hate being called ‘sir?’”

“I’m as spry as a fox-spitter, I’ll have you know.” Jasper huffed, placing a proud hand to his chest. “These crystal thingies are just needlessly complicated.”

“It’s only kind-of new tech.”

“It’s confusing, is what it is. I’m convinced you’re just messing with me.”)

“Figure of speech,” Darius waved it off, sure his mouth was pulling at an uncomfortable angle, “just be more careful in the future. Titan’s sake, you don’t need to fret about getting your own things.” He rolled his eyes. “I have more than enough to share. I already gave you a scroll.”

“Well…yeah.” Hunter hunched his shoulders a tad, looking from his scroll to Darius. “I-I just…you already got me the scroll, so…you’ve gotten me enough.”

“I’ll say when I’ve gotten you enough. This is not even close to the limit.” Darius said, firmly, if only because it made him feel…odd. This didn’t sound the least bit like a spoiled brat. “Now, scurry back to that important work you were having with your friends on Penstagram.”

“Acquaintances.” Hunter reminded, more of a grumble, than anything, neatly tucking his scroll underneath his cloak and into a pocket.

“No, they’re not. Run along.” Darius waved his hand, going back to pretending he was working on his own papers. “I’m sure teenagers like you have much to talk about.”

“I’m…working on that.” Hunter hummed, frowned so thoughtfully like he was solving some secret that it had Darius snorting, watching him turn away and pull his mask back down again.

Hunter’s fingers lingered, he noticed, over the nose. The tips scraping down slightly, pausing as though thinking something over. It was so painfully familiar he half expected to see a tangle of uncombed, wild hair when Hunter turned back to him.

But it was only his normal, somewhat-combed hair. Of course it was.

“Um, thank you.” Hunter mumbled, nodding jerkily. “For-for the assistance.”

“Happy to help.” Darius said, and if anyone said he sounded softer, they were a liar. “You can continue checking-in sometime in the future.”

It sort of slipped out. Not that he didn’t mean it, but he hadn’t really thought about saying it. The words were simply out there before he could think much. Though, he couldn’t really find himself regretting it when Hunter perked up, just the tiniest bit more interested.

Perhaps that should’ve been harder to tell, with his movements so subtle and face covered. But Darius liked to think himself an expert in such mannerisms.

“Thank you.” Hunter repeated, sounding suspiciously genuine, bringing his hood up. His small strand of hair still hung free, uncovered as he pulled open Darius’s door.

It looked a lot like Jasper’s, he noticed. There was always that one strand of hair poking free, refusing to obey the chaos of the rest of his mane. Hanging right in front of his face, bothering him to hell and back.

Then, Hunter was out the door, and Darius was alone in his office.

He shook off the weight on his chest, though it lingered like fog, and reshuffled his papers.

Perhaps he should do some real work.

#the owl house #toh #fanfic #toh fic #writing #darius deamonne #hunter toh #hunter deamonne #penstagram #hex #scambots #flashbacks #familiarity #previous golden guard #darius mentor #jasper #golden guard #past character death #chapters #dadrius #ao3 #my writing #drabble post #jaspers only like 2-3 years older than darius for the record

[loreleismusings99]

Two-Body Problem

Mark Watney x reader

Grad School AU, (academic) rivals to ??????

No use of pronouns or y/n

[Masterlist]

Not Beta-read, we die like Spirit and Opportunity.

CW: networking, Inaccurate depictions of organic chemistry, probably riddled with typos, but that's all I can think of. Please please please let me know if I missed anything and I'll add it to the top of the list

The reader and Mark are both PhD candidates at Northwestern and both happen to be GTAs for an o-chem/bio-chemistry class. They schedule and meet up on neutral ground(a library) to get some grading done together and some unexpected feelings creep in.

AN: This is the first fanfic I've ever written; critique is always welcome and encouraged, but, uh, perhaps manage your expectations? Idk 😅 I'm not the best when it comes to creative writing, but there's a criminally low amount of fic for The Martian and even fewer fic centered around Mark imo. I might continue this into something more, if there's demand and if I've the energy and motivation 🤷🏾

Alright, I'll stop trying to lamp-shade; Enjoy, and thanks for taking the time out of your day to read this 💚💚💚

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Wanna meet up to put a dent in the pile of grading I know you also have? 

The two of you exchanged numbers at the beginning of fall quarter out of politeness, but it was still surprising to see the notification from Mark’s text. 

Leaning back in your chair, you considered your options, the soft sensor schematic in front of you now fully abandoned after an hour of rearranging thermocouples and resistors trying to alleviate a stubborn inductive noise problem.

Mark had been a thorn in your proverbial side since the day you met him; well, night, to be exact—your blood begins to boil at the memory. You were engaged in cordial and calculated banter with a researcher working in a lab you were gunning for before being interrupted by someone exclaiming “Dr. Hernandez!” to your left. You blinked and the fragile connection you just began to form had crumbled as the attention of the faculty member in question whirled to the side and greeted a stocky and stubbly man who Dr. Hernandez introduced to you as “Mark Watney, one of my PhD students!” This confused you since his name tag clearly said, Plant Bio and Conservation and this was a mixer in the electrical and computer engineering department; “I’m working with him and a faculty member in my own department on developing novel ways of monitoring soil properties in areas in Illinois hardest hit by industrial runoff” Mark says with a smile that oozes levels of confidence and hubris only considerable privilege can spawn. He gives you a quick glance before saying, “which actually reminds me-” and steering Dr. Hernandez away from you. Now, this certainly stung, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t get over. No, what made this a problem was Mark’s uncanny ability to draw the room’s attention to him and his work, making it a just a tad difficult to properly network without having to entertain talk and conversation surrounding the department’s charismatic new wunderkind apparent. This combined with quite publicly challenging a design of yours for a class you two shared had firmly placed Mark in your list of worst enemies. Which, admittedly, might be a bit dramatic, but after some quippy and well worded critiques and suggestions to optimize a C++ script he’d written for the same class it seemed you’d made your way onto his hit list too, if department gossip had any veracity to it—so at least the feeling was mutual.

Which brings you back to your confusion at this new development in your communication with him; Mark hadn’t exactly jumped for joy when, in some sick reversal of the infamous two-body problem, the two of you got hired as TAs for the same introductory o-chem class. You exchanged numbers, but neither reached out to the other to host joint office hours, or to work together to get through the ever-growing pile of completed homework assignments that you two need to finish grading—in fact, this is the first time either of you texted the other since the first text you sent confirming your number as yours. Staring at your phone’s screen you weighed the pros and cons of saying yes; on the one hand, it’ll help the two of you get ahead on the imposing pile of work that had accumulated just in the first 2 and a half weeks of the quarter. On the other hand, it meant that you’d have to breathe the same air as your infuriatingly handsome nemesis for longer than you were required to. Not that he was your type. Absolutely not. He just… had an objectively strong jawline…. Choosing not to think too hard about that and reasoning that getting grading done was more important than your pride, you typed out a curt sure. See you at Galter in an hour? And waited for his equally as curt sounds good before getting up to go change out of your comfy, at-home garb and head out the door with your half of the grading pile and your laptop tucked away into your backpack.

You’re chewing the last bite of a pop tart you got, realizing you unfortunately forgot to eat dinner before leaving, and scrolling through Instagram when Mark walks through the glass doors leading into the Galter Health Sciences Library. Under a mild windbreaker, he’s wearing what’s presumably a band t-shirt but with a worn-out and unrecognizable logo tucked into his cuffed light wash jeans. He"s carrying a clearly well-loved canvas satchel with a Cubs patch sewn onto the front. His hair was artfully tousled as he ran a hand through it while he looked for you in the spattering of students who occupied the library at minutes to 9 on a Friday evening. When his eyes finally land on you, he looks taken aback, the carefree look wiped off his face for a moment before he smirks at you through an obviously clenched jaw. “Glad you didn’t decide to stand me up. You reserve a conference room?” You returned his tension-filled smirk with a smile resembling a sneer and responded, “Of course. We’re on the second floor.” You stood up from your seat and started walking in the direction of the staircase, looking behind you to make sure he was following you only to find him in the middle of a light jog to position himself on your right side.

“So, how’s the dissertation writing going?” he asks over his shoulder. Scoffing, you respond with an incredulous “How’s yours?”, hoping he pics up on your clear annoyance at being asked that dreaded question yet again. Wincing at your retort of a question, he concedes with a “Fair enough” And the two of you are plunged back into the awkward silence that permeates the sparsely populated library.

after finally finding the room you reserved(the library is like a maze, capable of ensnaring even the most seasoned of academics), you shuffle into the study room together and set up your computers and piles of homework to be graded before settling into a serene flow with Mark working quietly beside you.

after about thirty minutes, you look over to Mark’s pile and notice that his “complete” pile is, unfortunately, larger than yours, which ignites a spark of competition in you. You start to try to work through your pile faster and Mark seems to pick up on your haste.“Worried about falling behind?” he scoffs with a shit-eating grin, clasping his hands together in front of his mouth. “Oh, not in the slightest; just trying to optimize my time, I've more work to get back to, you know.” you say, smirking back at him but with a glint in your eye, tacitly challenging him to try to get through his pile before you get through yours.

The two of you actually make some substantial progress in both of your piles before you encounter one of the more difficult homework assignments your students have been assigned. You’re stumped by the multi-part problem at the top of the page, trying unsuccessfully to follow the student’s work in front of you.

“... You on homework 15 yet?”

“Yep.” you nod.

“... You have any idea what Dr. C is asking them to do?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright, just checking.”

Mark sits back in his chair with a thud and runs a hand down his face. you stand from your seat and move to the small whiteboard on the wall opposite where you were sitting and start to list out the knowns and unknowns in the problem statement. You can feel Mark’s eyes on you the entire time, following along with your work and your movements as you draw out the reaction being described in the first part of the problem. You get stumped at the end of the problem, trying to piece together the end products of the reaction. You hear Mark shift behind you before turning around to see him walking toward the whiteboard to silently walk himself through your work, nodding at each step you took. He picks up a marker and starts adding onto where you were stumped and you watch intently, absorbing what he’s writing. As he finishes the problem, you get the chance to actually get a look at him while he’s working; he furrows his eyebrows and you notice a small crease he gets between his eyebrows as they cinch together, and the faint spattering of freckles across his nose becomes apparent with how close he is to you now. God, he is so close-"that should be it? I think?" He looks to you with an indiscernible look in his eye; first, a hint of shock as his eyes widen--looks like he noticed how close you are too-- then something else you can't quite identify. It takes more effort than your willing to admit, but you eventually tear your eyes away from his and look at his work on the board. It all makes sense, you also note how messily he draws his diagrams of the assortment of carboxyl groups created by the process at the center of the problem(and it also takes everything within you not to smile at that, thinking to yourself, when did this start feeling nice???). "It, uh, it looks all good to me. And the rest should follow from this too." you utter awkwardly and turn to face him again. "Yeah?" His state of mind is still elusive to you, and he responds with an almost dazed sounding "Yeah."

The moment doesn't last for long though, as a soft knock sounds at the door, startling you both out of your joint reverie. "Hey, you guys are the TAs for o-chem this quarter, right? Do you have time to talk about the homework due tomorrow?" The two of you exchange a glance and invite the exhausted looking undergrad into the alcove.

After helping your wayward student, the two of you start packing up your now completed piles of grading in silence, the awkward air from the beginning of the night settling back in now that the distraction from grading was gone. The two of you are about to part ways at the entrance of the library when Mark stops you with a "hey," and says,"uh, so, I know we have this…whatever this is? Between us" He gestures chaotically back and forth in the space between you, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "But this is the most work I've gotten done in one sitting in a while. Would you, uh, like to do this again? Maybe? But at more reasonable hour?" Mark takes a defensive steps back, and this throws you off for a multitude of reasons. One, Mark is acting nervous, which is something you've had the pleasure of witnessing mabe once in your time being around him. Two, he seems to be genuinely asking spend more time with you. And, to be honest, after the silence between the two of you was broken, that was also the most productive you've been in a while. And it probably wouldn't hurt to actually collaborate with him instead of trying to compete with him. Just as you began to fear you were taking too long to respond, Mark pulls his hands out of his pockets and puts them up in the universal "I'm harmless" pose, "you don't have to, I just thought I'd ask-" "sure." You cut him off before he can try to answer his question for you. He looks at you with what can only be described as gleeful shimmer in his eyes and smirked again; this time, though, it didn't have his usual venom behind it. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully. "Yeah." You smile in return, it reaching your eyes this time.

#the martian #andy weir #the martian(2015) #mark watney #mark watney x reader #mark watney x gn!reader #gn!reader #self insert #no use of y/n #this is my first fanfic #and yes #I was imagining 90's Matt Damon while imagining what Mark would've looked like in grad school #academic rivals #enemies to lovers #? #but perhaps not as intense? #idk man #i just work here #space pirate #mark watney x oc

[clementine-kesh]

It's such a struggle to be a Phlox fucker, I'm not even kidding. It's not the lack of hot Phlox appreciation or the other people thinking it's a bit or even the hypocrisy of Quark and Garak being treated as sex symbols (I mean yes they're hot too but you know what I mean) while Phlox is just treated as some funny guy. All of that sucks but it's not what's hardest for me. No, it's the shipping.

I have been trying really hard to find someone to consistently pair him up with in my mind - I have already given up on finding a ship there's actually considerable content for, if you go to Phlox' ao3 tag and go to filter by relationship literally none of the options even involve him which is fucked up if you ask me - but there's always some kind of snag.

(Note from future me when I was finishing writing the rest of this message: I don't touch on every possibility, only ones I think could evolve into any kind of relationship rather than a quick one off shag (thinking of Trip here) so there's not even that many but I wrote way too much, especially on candidate #3)

The first I saw suggested was Archer which, fair enough I guess, but at that point I had not yet met Shran or knew about Shrancher and now that I do it's not like I stopped with the Phlox x Archer but it's just no longer a priority. And yes, you can totally make Archer having two alien boyfriends work, especially since both Denobulans and Andorians are poly by default, but while I haven't seen Shran and Phlox interact yet (and thus could be totally off) I just don't feel like they'd vibe enough to even hang out casually tbh. Again, I do still ship this but pretty low key.

The next option I wanna talk about is T'Pol and I think that at least initially, she's the most "realistic" option and if the show had been twice as long they probably would've been at least teased at some point (in part ofc since it was the 00s and so heterosexuality was the only option but y'know) and the whole "only two non-human crew members" thing adds something that vibes with me, too, but there's just no way you could ever make them work in the long run because Vulcans are just PAINFULLY monogamous and I simply don't think she's willing to break with that. Phlox would off-handedly mention one of his wives and T'Pol would be absolutely seething. This is not a long term ship.

Then possibly my favourite so far is Tobin Dax. Technically it's only beta canon that Tobin was around during Ent (in the alpha timeline Lela died in 2226 (thus presumably when Tobin was joined) which is over 60 years after the end of Ent and there's no alpha info on what he was doing before but in the beta timeline Tobin was definitely already joined by the 2160s and probably quite a bit before) so unless you wanna go with unjoined Tobin (whom we have zero alpha info and as far as I can tell little to no beta info on) you gotta go beta timeline which I know so little about that it's hard for me to daydream about. But at least Phlox and Tobin are said to have met in beta canon tho I don't know if there's scenes of their interactions. I can probably forget about any non me made content too since beta Tobin is already "commonly" (considering it's all beta) shipped with Iloja of Prim who, fun fact, is actually given as Jadzia's favourite Cardassian writer in alpha canon. Anyway, point is I just don't know enough about (beta) Tobin or beta canon in general to generate anything here.

(And I would consider other Dax hosts as well but unless you count the (alpha timeline) three years between Lela's joining and Ent ending there's not much opportunity for this without time travel. I should mention two things here, one: I don't think Lela is one of the Daxes that I'd ship with Phlox and two: I am not strictly opposed to time travel for the sole purpose of PhloxDax and I can defo imagine him with Jadzia, Curzon, maybe Torias and possibly Emony, but it's an extra level of complication that I frankly can't be bothered with if I'm the only one doing it.)

(Also, just for completeness' sake: in the beta timeline we know Phlox was alive at least until the 2260s which would put him parallel with Dax until at least Audrid tho it's very feasible he made it until after her death in 2284, the two subsequent hosts (who as you know didn't make it long) and Curzon's 2285 (again, beta timeline, it's '86 in alpha) joining. There's different lifespans given for Denobulans (about 300y in beta tho, according to memory beta) but even by the shortest I found (which said 170 to 280) it's very much possible since Phlox was born in the 2080s (beta)/generally sometime late 21st century (alpha). But that's just additional info.)

In summary, I may have to read Uncertain Logic (last Rise of the Federation novel to feature Tobin and the one that, based on my research, is most likely to show him interact with Phlox) but it would be difficult as I can no longer read long texts after getting off my ADD meds (which mess with my antidepressants) and thus literally haven't finished even half of a book in about a decade. As I said, the struggle is real. I swear to you I don't set out with the intention of writing a dissertation in your askbox each time, it just happens. I'm sorry.

Oh, also, if you have more suggestions (or better yet: content) for Phlox ships I'd be very eager to listen! Thank you so much for your time!

-Levi

i respect the grindset so much more people should be phloxfuckers tbh. he’s got that jovial mad scientist vibe and is in an open marriage with his three wives like?? the best phlox ship i have for you is ages ago i made a post that included a joke about neelix using a temporal anomaly to moonlight as the chef on the nx-01 and beginning a torrid love affair with phlox which i still stand by. it happened to me. also i know next to nothing about beta canon but conceptually the idea of pairing phlox with one of the dax hosts is very fun

[chaotictarlos]

With love, your soulmate

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Mature | Warnings: Alternative Universe, Tarlos AU, Brooklyn Love Stories AU, Alternate Timelines, long-distance relationship, fluff, soulmate au, pen pal au, mentions of police cruelty 

Authors Note: And here we are, the final chapter of my soulmate au. It's been a ride and has taken so long to write this but I've enjoyed it alot. It was frustrating at times and I sometimes hated myself for the concept I picked to write. Brooklyn Love Stories is such a cute little short film and the inspiration was great, but I don't think I would write a soulmate au that deals with letters like this again. It was so hard at times to figure out the timeline, lol. But here it is, the last chapter and I do hope that it was worth the wait. I might revisit this series again sometime. If you ever have suggestions for things that you want to see, my DMS and Inbox are always open!

Once again, thank you to @noxsoulmate for being my beta for this fic. It wasn't always easy and it was frustrating at times but I hope you at least enjoyed it a bit.

Carlos sighs and settles into his bed as the last of his visitors leaves. He’s happy he got to see everyone - and that everyone could see that he was okay and in one piece - but he’s tired and his entire body aches. The doctor had explained everything to him, but Carlos didn’t retain that much information on what they had to do. The gist is, he was in critical condition and had to have surgery to remove the bullet but he’s going to recover and live.

Because of the injury and the time it’s going to take to recover, he’s going to have to take weeks, months maybe, off of work - a fact he doesn’t like. He’s just gotten settled into patrolling with Mitchell and now he’s going to lose all that progress. It’s annoying and frustrating, but Carlos doesn’t want to focus on that right now.

What he really wants to do is write a letter to TK or get a letter from TK and read his words, knowing that they’ll make him feel better. He can’t though, he’s too confined to his hospital bed to be able to do anything and with how long letters were taking now, Carlos is sure he’d be out of the hospital before he would get an answer back from TK.

His only other option is to sleep and that sounds good. His body is tired and Carlos knows that sleeping will help his body - and mind - to heal. He lets out another soft sigh and tries to get comfortable in the bed, but it’s hard because he has to sleep on his back and that’s never really been a position that Carlos finds the most comfortable.

He doesn’t get much of a chance to try further before he hears a soft noise near the door. He assumes that it’s probably another nurse or doctor and opens his eyes, looking in the direction of the door.

He stares in shock when he sees TK. Carlos feels like he has to be dreaming or high from the pain meds. That’s the only explanation for seeing TK in the same room as him because as far as Carlos knows, they haven’t caught up to each other yet.

“TK?” he asks, voice rough yet soft. He’s not sure what else to say or to do for that matter. He’s not even sure if this is real.

He watches as TK swallows thickly and nods.

“Hi.”

Finish on AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detectivecarlosreyes @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker @angeltarlos

#chaotic fics #with love your soulmate #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #tk strand x carlos reyes #911 ls #soulmate au #tyler kennedy strand #tarlos fan fic

[godbirdart]

Hi there! Short time appreciator of your stuff (I found you a few months ago + love your style sm!!) first time asker, and this might be an odd one, but do you have any suggestions for how to get involved with the furry community? Just, where to meet folk, maybe what to keep an eye out for (good or bad!) and such? I'd love to chat to folk and such but I'm just a very nervous person ^^;

You don't have to post or answer this if you don't want to! But thank you for all the cool art and the funny memes, I love seeing Sebastian with assorted snacks ^-^ you take care!!

aaA thank you!!

i'll be honest i personally skirt around the edge of the community because i too am a shy creature that emerges only every waning moon to hand people artwork

depending on the involvement level you want, you've got a number of options. a lot of people are still active on twitter, and mastodon and cohost seem to be picking up! i know mastodon has a few furry instances, such as meow.social, though I don't use mastodon that much so I cannot say if the community there is good, bad, or otherwise. same goes for cohost. last i checked it's very much so a twitter clone, but many furries i've noticed have skipped over there. pillowfort.social has a small Furry Artists community. if in doubt, there's also /r/furry on reddit.

if you just want to appreciate art and maybe comment every now and again, tumblr is pretty good. sure the tags can be a little broken sometimes, but at least you'll find the content you're looking for when you look up Furry in the search. same goes for deviantart and furaffinity, ofc depending on your interests you may have to dig around a little to get to the content / art style you specifically like. both tumblr and twitter i find are somewhat good at recommending similar artists if you follow some. sometimes there’s a recommended that pops up after you hit follow on the profile on twitter or a “blogs like these” section on tumblr, so there’s that.

telegram and discord are still popular as ever, though i feel finding a Good chat can be a herculean task. the r/furry reddit mentioned above has both telegram and discord [both sfw].

it’s super likely there’s a local / regional furry group for your area. some meet irl, even! most of these groups have telegram chats or discords if you want to meet people closer to home. of course there's also the Countless furry conventions going on too

it all depends on your social level as an individual. you can dip your toes in just by commenting on and following other furries, or opt to attend meetups and conventions and meet people in person

as for things to stay away from, the two biggest problems i want to mention are:

furry raiders. an alt-right furry group.

people with the zeta symbol “ζ“ in their bio /  name. now, the presence of a symbol isn’t always indicative of someone’s affiliation with something, so use discretion; but the zeta symbol is often used by people who are zoosadists / into be*stiality. these people are not furries, they don’t represent what the community is about, and everyone hates them. we can and will call the authorities on these people for animal abuse. if you see someone telling “zoos” to fuck off, there’s a 99.9999% chance these are the people that person is talking about.

these aren’t the only issues of course, but i feel they’re the most prominent ones. also maybe be wary of people who constantly say things like “no politics uwu” - especially if they turn it into some furry pun like “pawlitics”. maybe i personally have just had too many uncomfortable interactions with people like this and now i’m biased, but i’ve grown to never trust that.

apologies, i’m a bit of a hermit in online spaces and can’t offer anything more specific. if anyone has cooler recommendations they’re welcome to add them in the replies / reblogs!!

#long post #furry

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Toady FAQ!

Hey y’all! I get a lot of the same questions (both on Tiktok and here in the bog), so I thought I’d answer a bunch of em at once! As always, if you have questions not listed here, I’m happy to chat :)

Are you going to upload/continue the 90s series? (Alternatively: Upload the 90s series. You should upload it to Tumblr. Continue the 90s series.)

With all the love in the world, no. At least not for the moment—ask me again in 6 months!

Writing that series ended up being super stressful, and I’m not super eager to get back in there at the moment. I’m worried I’d continue to carry that stress and that I’d grow to resent the story, which is not at all what I want! I also don’t want to be 8 chapters into a new piece of writing and still have people asking about the 90s series, which I hope is understandable.

By all means, save the posts from Tiktok so you can revisit them. Just please don’t post them anywhere :)

Do you have Spotify? Can you make a playlist of all the songs you used in your Tiktoks?

I’ve thought about this question a lot, and basically: you tell me.

I have a Spotify account, but haven’t shared it for privacy reasons. However, if enough people wanted it, I could be persuaded to change my username and share my playlists :)

I do think it’s fun to have music to go along with a story, and it’s actually the one thing I miss about Tiktok. So the other option would be to maybe post chapters as audio posts with the text underneath, if I can figure out how to do that?

Basically: you tell me what you think, and I’ll do it!

Will your next story feature XYZ?

It depends on your request (and, honestly, the tone in which you ask it). I’m more than happy to consider requests and suggestions, but I have two stipulations:

1. There are certain perspectives and lived experiences from which I simply cannot write accurately; if you’re asking me to write about the experiences of a marginalized group, consider that I might not be the person to portray them. On top of being in a privileged position myself, I’m also just not an experienced enough writer to properly research and depict experiences so inherently different from my own. I can definitely try my best to recommend other writers, but know that, in all things, my knowledge is limited to my own exposure and experience.

2. I cannot possibly make everyone happy. If I took every request I received, I’d end up with a disaster of a story that I wouldn’t even feel like I’d written. I need to retain some creative freedom in order for this to feel worth doing, so while I welcome suggestions please don’t be offended if I don’t take every one I see!

Any advice for people who want to major in English? What are you doing with your degree?

Yes!

Find your niche. Mine was American lit, specifically the weird stuff. The weirder the better—American Gothic, true crime journalism, 19th-century Spiritualism—you name it, I’ve written about it. If you can find a subgenre of literature that you LOVE, nothing you read or write will feel like work.

Don’t edit, rewrite! Print your draft and go over it in red pen, then re-type it with your corrections. I swear by this!

Don’t limit yourself, ever! Take classes on fantasy, sci-fi, children’s lit, climate crisis fiction, religious texts, whatever you can find. You will be better for it!

Everyone is wrong. There’s a TON you can do with an English degree. I worked in finance straight out of college—I knew nothing about business, but my degree taught me to communicate effectively and synthesize information from different sources. You have valuable skills, you just need to learn to market them! Now I’m working in my field and it’s great, but it was never the only option.

DO A STORY ABOUT X IN Y TIME PERIOD SET IN THIS SPECIFIC TOWN!

Beloved, stop yelling at me.

Can I use this as a writing prompt/write my own story/create fanart using these characters?

YES! Knock yourself out, I only ask that you tag me in the final product so I can see your lovely work and hype you up :)

Do you have book/movie/show recs that are similar to your work?

That depends! Send me a specific request (ie: MMCs with similar vibes to Jasper Stevens) and I’ll try my best to recommend you something. If I can’t think of anything, we’ll crowdsource!

#toady talkin #faq #got more questions? hit me! #and please advise re spotify #also bonus fun toady fact bc i can’t get enough of overjustifying why my current work is different from previous stuff #i double majored >:) in psychology >:) my thesis was on prolonged grief >:) #so we can add it to the list #prolonged grief spirit photography gothic womanhood and ripping apart true crime podcasts #perhaps we can see why toady’s no good at romance

[couldntbedamned]

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 34

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is an Adult, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker, Passive Aggressive Canned Soup, Two Morons Trying to Try Their Best, Borrowing Characters

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Chapter 34

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He woke at four and was quiet as he dressed and left Peter asleep in their suite.

He’d grab a cup of coffee on the road - he had a long day ahead of him.

Only he was greeted at the front door by Tony and Sharon, both wide awake despite the hour. Tony, he’d expected to be awake since the man had the worst sleeping habits of anyone he’d ever met but Sharon?

“Heartburn,” she said in answer to his questioning eyebrow. “And I wanted to give you this.”

She handed him a nondescript black mobile.

“CSB issue, untraceable,” she said. “There will be an identical car at the midway point.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your help with this.”

“And that’s our stopping point,” Sharon said with a small smile. “Plausible deniability if worse comes to worst.”

“I’ll be back this afternoon,” he assured them. “Call me if anything comes up. And please,” he looked at Tony. “Take care of Peter.”

“We will,” Tony said. “He’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t used to waking up without Stephen next to him. It only happened once or twice a month - usually because of an overnight or early-morning emergency - since they’d married and he didn’t like the sensation.

At least Stephen had left a note for him.

Peter,

I’ve left for my meeting. I’ll return sometime before this evening. Behave.

Stephen

He rolled his eyes at the last line. When didn’t he behave? Sure, he had his moments every now and then but all in all, he didn’t cause Stephen or anyone else problems.

He showered and, realizing that Stephen had left before putting the cage back on him, locked himself back up before he dressed and went to eat breakfast.

He’d gotten used to the feel of it.

Sharon was in the morning room, drinking a cup of hot tea and eating a warmed chocolate croissant that both looked and smelled delicious.

"Good morning," she greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I woke up," he admitted. "It's weird, not waking up before Stephen. Thankfully it doesn't happen that often."

Sharon smiled, took another sip of the tea. "I can't relate," she said. "Tony's sleep schedule is so varied and thanks to my past life I'm a light sleeper." She winced and touched the side of her baby bump. "And this one doesn't seem to think much of sleep, either."

"More kicking practice?" Peter asked.

She nodded, still rubbing. "My internal organs are at Baby Starter's mercy."

Peter surveyed the sideboard and filled his plate with cut fruit, eggs, and fried potatoes. "Do you want anything?" He asked her.

"I wouldn't say no to some of the fruit," she said. "It actually goes pretty well with this damned leaf water Tony keeps foisting on me."

Peter dished some of the fruit onto a small plate and carried it over along with his own. He even poured himself a cup of tea in solidarity.

"In his defense it is good tea," he said after trying it. He’d never minded hot tea though coffee was definitely more aromatic.

She nodded reluctantly. "It really is. We're not telling Tony that, however."

“I’ll take the secret to my grave,” he teased. “He’s left for the office then?”

“He left just before seven this morning. There’s a board meeting he rescheduled since I’m due any day now and he wanted the meeting out of the way.” She glanced at the tennis bracelet watch she wore. “He should be back just after noon.”

“Well, I’m not a genius inventor but I’m happy to visit with you.”

“You’re too sweet for words, Peter,” she said, eyes suspiciously bright.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s funny - before I got married, that definitely wasn’t a sentiment that was applied to me very often. Maybe I’ve mellowed.”

“Oh? What would have been applied to you, then?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “‘Smartass’ and ‘wise guy’ were popular ones. One time my Aunt May’s friend Gilda called me ‘saucy’.” He smirked. “Stephen calls me a brat, but I’m pretty sure he actually likes that about me.”

“He does,” Sharon confirmed. “He really does.”

It was a lazy morning, spent out by the pool with both of them ensuring they were adequately protected with sunscreen, even though they weren’t swimming.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a dip?”

Peter shook his head and turned a page in his book. “No, I’m good. With my luck I’d drown and then there would be an investigation and publicity, and then Stephen would have a bad day…”

Sharon laughed and then cried out. “Ah!”

Peter sat up quickly. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t say anything, just rubbed her bump, wincing. “Just really active today.”

“Do you want to go inside?”

She started to shake her head and then abruptly nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best.”

Peter helped her up and was about to escort her back inside when he noticed the puddle on the ground beneath the lounge chair and that the back bottom of her yellow caftan was soaked.

Oh, hell.

“We need to call Tony,” he said.

Sharon pulled out her mobile from the pocket of her caftan.

Peter sat her down on a chair after placing a thick towel on it as cover and then pulled out his own mobile to message Stephen.

He heard Sharon speaking to someone at the office, her voice testy.

“I’m aware that he’s in a board meeting. Do you really think I’d be calling if it wasn’t an emergency?” She paused. “Listen. Just get me Pepper. Now.”

“Pep? My water just broke. I’m here at the mansion with Peter. I know Tony’s in with the board, but if you could pass on the message, that would be great.”

She looked at Peter after hanging up. “Tony will be here in probably fifteen minutes.” She smirked as she rested a hand on her bump. “Pepper will be on the warpath if the board even thinks about trying to hold him up.”

“Do we need to call for a driver to take us to the hospital?”

“No, Tony will drive us once he gets here. What I need is help getting into some dry clothes and my go-bag. Can you help me with that?”

Peter was scrambling for the owner’s suite before she even finished the question.

He came back with a dry pink caftan (had she just bought the same thing in multiple colors?), the matching cushioned slippers, and a stuffed overnight bag.

“Oh, there should be one in the nursery, as well,” Sharon said, accepting the dry clothing. “Sorry, my mind is everywhere at the moment.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Tony will be here soon and everything will be great,” Peter said. He left off for the nursery and found the bag waiting on the rocking chair next to the bay window.

When he came back Sharon was still in the soaked gown and clutching her back.

“Can you help me, please?”

He blushed but nodded.

Painfully embarrassed, Peter helped Sharon pull off the yellow caftan and slip on the pink. He could have died when she asked about dry undergarments, but he raced up and back to blindly grab a pair. He kept his eyes averted as he helped her out of the ruined pair and into the dry.

“Are you going to make it?” She asked, once she was decent.

Still blushing, he nodded. “Yes, but let’s maybe not tell Stephen about this?”

“I promise you, he won’t care, but yes, this can stay between us.” She chuckled and then winced, gripping her side.

Tony needed to get here now, he thought.

He wished Stephen was here, too.

What on earth could be more important than this?

The drive to the state of Middle California was uneventful, even with stopping at a shopping center, making a ridiculous few purchases, and swapping vehicles. He'd have to ask Sharon if spy-work was always so boring. He had a feeling the answer was yes.

He drove to a sleepy little suburban block, pulling up to a neat little ranch style brick house with white shutters and a tidy lawn. He parked behind the serviceable Bel Air and kept a pleasant smile on his face when a pretty woman answered the door.

Her honey brown hair was pulled away from her face with a head band that matched the lacy apron she wore over her pink and white gingham dress.

"Vinnie! We're so glad you could make it," she greeted. "Come on in, Rusty is in the kitchen."

Vinnie?

Bemused, he let her urge him inside, noting the secure click of the door lock behind him.

"You even get mail here?" he asked, noticing the bundle in her hand.

The woman rolled her eyes. "My partner enjoys coming up with his covers," she said, the advert-ready smile fading into something more natural as he led him back to the kitchen. A man sat at the table, a laptop in front of him. "I'm SSA Bobbi Morse but the people around here know me as Katelin Frayer, homemaker and shuffleboard enthusiast."

Stephen did smile at that.

"I take it you're Rusty?" he asked the man.

"Rusty Peltzer," he said. He wore a mechanic's jumpsuit that had oil stains in several places and sturdy black boots that had Stephen wincing in sympathy for the carpet if he didn't bother taking them off before walking in the rest of the house. Peter would probably murder him if he ever tried something like that - especially in their dining room. "Otherwise known as SSA Lance Hunter."

Stephen glanced around the kitchen. "Not a bad set-up, I'm assuming."

Lance shrugged. "It's suiting our purposes for the time being," he said. "And given our CO's attachment to this case they've sprung for just about anything we could need."

"Carter mentioned something about that," he said.

"How is Sharon?" Bobbi asked. "I miss going on missions with her. It's hard to believe I'll be retired just like her in a couple of years."

"She's glowing," he said. Sure, these agents knew her, but he wasn't going to give them specifics. Doctor-Patient confidentiality and all.

Lance snorted. "She's probably been ready to pop the tyke out since she got up the duff."

Well, the man wasn't wrong about that. (Did Sharon and Peter think they were the only two people making cross-country mobile calls? He'd talked with Tony plenty.)

"That kid is going to be something the world isn't ready for," Bobbi said. "A Stark is one thing, but adding in Sharon's genetics?" She shook her head with a fond smile.

"Probably," Lance agreed. He shut the laptop and focused on Stephen. "So, we have a civilian in our base that apparently wants a meeting with one of the CSB's most wanted. Why? Why should we trust you?"

"Sharon vouched for him," Bobbi reminded Lance.

"Sure, but why? Why do you care what the CSB does with Quentin Beck?"

"Back in August I selected a spouse through the BCSS," Stephen started.

"And we're happy for you," Lance cut in.

"My spouse was only with the BCSS because he was targeted by Beck and lost everything. Beck ruined his life. I suppose I want to ask the man why."

"I can tell you why. The man's a psychopath," Lance said flippantly.

"We can let you talk to him, but you can't hurt him," Bobbi said. "And we're not leaving you alone with him, either."

"He's just going to lie," Lance told Stephen. "He's damn good at it."

Stephen pulled out a small leather case from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Bobbi.

"I'm not worried about him lying."

Bobbi opened the case and her eyes went wide. "Well damn, Doc."

Curious, Lance stood so he could peer at the contents of the case. "I suppose it takes all kinds," he said.

It surprised the hell out of Peter that Tony was so calm.

The man had arrived and driven the three of them not to a hospital like he'd been expecting, but a birthing center. Sharon was shown to a suite that was a mix of something out of a science fiction comic and one of those Graceful Housekeeping magazines his Aunt May used to read.

"No hospital?" he asked Tony as a nurse got Sharon settled.

Tony shook his head. "We did all the research and Sharon's obstetrician has attending privileges here. They focus on the mother, not just the baby." He smiled. "And Stephen already gave his seal of approval, even though he trusts Sharon's doctor implicitly."

Peter nodded. "Sorry, I just, I don't know... I've been worried. I'm not trying to be a pain."

"You're not a pain and honestly, it's kind of nice that I'm not the frazzled one. I know I've been driving Sharon nuts with all of my plans and contingencies but now that we're finally here I'm actually steady."

Peter snorted. "You're not the one who has to do all the hard work."

"Oh, and she'll never let me forget it, I'm sure," Tony agreed. He clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Thanks for taking care of her today. It means more to me than I can say."

“She’d do the same for me,” Peter said.

The nurse called Tony back to the alcove where Sharon was resting on the maternity bed and after choosing a selection from the bookcase's offerings, Peter took a seat in one of the suite's recliners. He wasn't sure just how interesting Foundation would be, but it had to be a better read than Prenatal Perineal Secrets: How to Stretch for Success.

He wasn't sure just what his part in today would be but he figured if either of them needed coffee or a listening ear, he could provide that.

Bobbi led him down to the basement where in a locked room, sat the man who'd unknowingly changed Stephen's life.

Quentin Beck was about what he was expecting. Although he was bound to the steel chair Stephen could tell that the man was tall. Even though his dark hair was in need of a wash and his beard a good trim, it was easy to see how others would find him handsome and charming. His eyes, though... Beck's eyes weren't right.

"A visitor!" the man said with false cheer. "And here I thought this place didn't have all the amenities." He looked to Morse. "I'm not interested in talking."

"You don't have a choice," she said.

"And who are you?" Beck asked, sneering. "And why should I talk to you?"

"My name is Dr. Stephen Strange. I'm married to Peter Parker."

"Oh, a doctor?," Beck drawled. "My word, little Petey really did land on his feet, didn't he? I wondered just where he'd disappeared off to. I'd been hoping I could track him back down once all of this is over."

Stephen didn't like the sound of that at all. Beck would never get near Peter again.

"He has a good life now," Stephen said. "Unlike what you're going to have."

"Keep telling yourself that," Beck said with a snort. "I have friends in high places."

Bobbi let out a laugh. "Is that what you think? You're going into a deep, dark hole and never coming back out."

"She's right," Lance said, coming down the stairs to join them.

"We'll see." The man shrugged as much as his bindings allowed and focused his attention back on Stephen. "So, go ahead and ask me what you want to ask."

"Why Peter? Why target someone who was all but broke?"

Beck laughed. "Are you joking? That kid was worth millions and would have been worth so much more. That organic bandage that he talked about in his paper on wound care was going to change everything - I saw the scars from where he tested it on himself. It wasn't just a theory. But he never wrote the damn formula down. I tried everything I could think of to get him to part with it - I even tried to seduce him. The damned brat was just too damned stubborn and insistent on waiting for that special someone. So, I cut my losses and took his money instead: his aunt's life insurance payout and the keys to access his parents' five million dollar CSB payouts when the time came."

All of what Beck said caught Stephen's attention but he focused on the last part. "His parents weren't agents," he said. They'd been administrative workers, according to Peter's profile. Sure, there would have been life insurance but millions?

Beck snorted. "The CSB likes to give its agents cover stories, but Richard and Mary Parker were operatives. They didn't just happen to be on the bridge when it collapsed. The bridge collapsed because those two were on it. And they'd directed that money the CSB pays out to their son couldn't be accessed until he was twenty-one. So I took that information and figured I'd give it a few years. It's not like he could keep it now, even when he does turn twenty-one, considering he's a selected spouse." Beck smirked. "They don't get many rights, those spouses of yours."

Beck reclined as much as he was able, secured to the chair. "He did pretty well for himself, all things considered. He married a surgeon! All he has to do is tolerate you for a year then he’s free! But who knows, maybe he'll be desperate enough to stay."

Stephen's blood boiled, which was an odd feeling considering his cold fury.

He slowly stood and shrugged out of his blazer. Folding it neatly, he draped it over his chair, removed his tie, and began to unbutton his sleeves.

"Oh, you're going to hit me?" Beck taunted. "Whatever happened to 'do no harm'?"

"Every doctor interprets their oath in their own way. For me personally... We're in Middle California. My license isn't valid here so for all intents and purposes, I'm not a doctor at the moment."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Beck said, though there was something like fear in his eyes. "Do you really think he's worth doing this for?"

Stephen withdrew the syringe and vial from the case he’d tucked in his jacket pocket. He prepped the needle with the contents of the vial. After eying it carefully he gently flicked the glass to remove any bubbles. "My husband is worth everything."

Beck started to struggle in his restraints as Stephen approached him. Bobbi and Lance held him still.

"Now, I haven't had to worry about injecting anything since my residency days, but I'd imagine it's like riding a bicycle."

"What the hell is in that?" Beck demanded, eyes even more crazed.

"Sodium piothental," Stephen said. "With a dash of midazolam. Both are safe in controlled doses under the careful eye of a professional." He pushed up the sleeve of the t-shirt Beck wore. "But as we've discussed... I'm not a doctor at the moment." He squeezed the muscle, holding the skin taut and injected the contents of the syringe.

Beck looked wildly between Lance and Bobbi. "What the hell?"

"It's crazy how some detainees will do anything to get a fix," Lance said to Bobbi, ignoring Beck.

"Absolutely tragic," Bobbi deadpanned.

Stephen tucked the syringe and vial back in the case then made a show of checking his watch. "We'll give it a few minutes." He looked at the agents. "Is there anything to drink in this place?"

Bobbi perked up. "Oh! I make the best lemonade. Come on up!"

Lance rolled his eyes but nodded. "She really does."

The three went upstairs, ignoring Beck's shouts and cursing.

Peter had been in a visitor’s waiting room for a few hours. He’d picked up another book to read (an absolutely terrible slice-of-life romance) and kept to himself. Once he’d gone to grab coffee and a snack for Tony, promising Sharon he’d bring her all the food she could stand once the nurses cleared it.

At one point Tony came outside to update him on her progress before returning to Sharon's side.

Mostly, Peter was just alone.

He sent another message to Stephen letting him know that they were at the birthing center and that Sharon was in labor.

There was no response.

Peter finished the book and selected another. He was halfway through before Tony called him back in.

Tony was beaming while Sharon was sitting up in the bed, looking exhausted but radiant. Under a rose pink blanket, she held a dark haired infant against her bare chest.

They introduced their daughter to Peter.

“Oh, wow,” Peter breathed out. “She’s amazing.”

“Yes, she is,” Tony agreed, gaze intent on the sight of his wife and baby.

Sharon looked up at Tony. “I want that burger.”

Peter laughed. “You two stay here and I’ll order you both some food, okay?”

“Grab something for yourself, too,” Tony said. “Have them charge it to the room.”

Peter did just that, ordering two cheeseburgers with sweet potato fries, side Cardini salads, and slices of chocolate cake for the parents along with a grilled cheese and cup of tomato soup for himself.

The lady in the cafeteria, Beth, laughed when she got the order. “It’s always fun to see what meals the new mothers first order once they’re free to eat what they want again!”

Peter grinned. “She only asked for the burger but I figured she deserved some cake as well.”

Beth nodded. “Yes, she definitely does. We’ll have everything delivered to suite twelve when it’s ready.”

Peter thanked her and went back to the suite. He checked his watch and sighed. It was nearly seven in the evening. Still no word from Stephen.

Peter let Tony and Sharon know that their food would be delivered and returned to his station in the waiting room. The obstetrician was in with the small family and Peter didn't want to be in the way.

The drive back to the mid point passed him by as if he wasn't really there. His mind was turning over what he'd learned out of Beck once he'd gone back downstairs to question the man... with some assistance from Bobbi and Lance.

Outside of the injection, he hadn't laid a hand on the man, no matter how desperately he'd wanted to throttle him until all life left the crazed blue eyes. Instead, the agents overseeing his temporary captivity used some of their tricks to encourage the sharing of information. It had been unsettling to be party to and at one point he'd had to stop himself from returning upstairs to vomit.

But he had the information he needed and Bobbi and Lance had promised they'd retrieve the data keys that Beck had stolen and send them on to Stephen.

”That kid was worth millions and would have been worth so much more.” ”The damned brat was just too damned stubborn and insistent on waiting for that special someone.”

“My husband is worth everything.”

Those were the most honest words he’d ever spoke.

Stephen parked at the same shopping center, returned his purchases, and left in the car he'd swapped out that morning. His mobile had a score of messages, most from Tony letting him know that Sharon was the birthing center... Sharon was in labor... asking how he was supposed to handle this... marveling at how strong Sharon was... no, wait, she was angry at him and telling him he could never touch her again... Sharon had had the baby. His messages ended with "Come and meet your goddaughter."

Glad the cloak-and-dagger bit was over, Stephen did just that.

He'd figure out what to do with what he'd learned later.

When he arrived at the birthing center, Peter was curled up in one of the guest recliners, fast asleep.

"He's had a long day," Tony said fondly, embracing him. "But we were so glad to have him around. He really helped Sharon out this morning."

Stephen looked over at his sleeping husband. "He's pretty wonderful like that."

Tony clapped a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "Come and meet her."

He followed Tony back to where Sharon sat up in her bed holding the baby in her arms.

"Did you get what you needed?" Sharon asked.

He nodded. "Yes, but there are far more important things to discuss at the moment," he said. "Who is this little lady?"

Sharon smiled and motioned him closer. "Meet Jamie," she said, handing him the swaddled infant.

"Jamie?"

Tony grinned proudly. "Stephanie James Stark."

Stephen tried the name out. "It's perfect," he said.

"Just like Jamie," Sharon agreed. "We figured who better to honor than her two godfathers?"

"Rhodey will be here next week; unfortunately he can't just abandon mission and come straight here. It's frowned upon or treasonous or something."

"Or something," Stephen said quietly. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was just so little. Her eyes were scrunched tight and she let out a yawn. "She's beautiful," he whispered.

"Well, she takes after me, so of course she is," Tony said. "I'll have her building circuit boards in no time."

"Or learning the names of every bone in the body," Stephen suggested.

"Or she'll be doing whatever makes her happy and the two of you will just have to deal with it." Stephen glanced at Sharon, who was looking at him and Tony as if she were entirely unimpressed.

"Or that," Tony agreed easily. He checked his watch. "It's late. You should wake Peter and head back to the mansion. We have some check-ins with the obstetrician and pediatrician in the morning but we'll be up for visitors in the afternoon."

That sounded perfect. He carefully handed the sleeping Jamie over to Sharon. "I'm so happy for you two."

-------

#spiderstrange #spideystrange #stephen strange x peter parker #peter parker x stephen strange #1950s modern fusion au #1950s au #couldntbedamned fic

[tumb1r-revival-initiative]

Why Tumblr Should Be Revived

1. The staff is not nearly as strict about porn as before. They got rid of the failed algorithm that attempted to detect skin on posts. This was the biggest driving factor to the migration. Artists can now thrive on here once again without having their posts flagged as porn when they’re not.

2. There are also many porn blogs on here still because as I previously mentioned, staff isn’t as strict as they used to be. You can potentially view and own a porn blog on here as long as you are careful. At the very least, it can have suggestive pictures and explicit text posts. There are millions of those on here.

3. This community was like no other. This was the only social media where the neurodivergent, the LGBTQ, the furries, the “cringe” people, where ALL social outcasts found a home. People came here and realized there were many others out there just like them. Tumblr is the home to aesthetics and fandom and has a sense of community you can’t find elsewhere. Tumblr has always been meant for niche interests, many of which have been born from here. It’s fun to be a part of that. There’s a reason why a lot of people don’t like Twitter anymore: it’s because it’s mainly populated by former Tumblr users. Ever since the migration, people have been complaining about hating sensitive Twitter users. Niche community members went somewhere they weren’t really welcomed. This is fine because social media is for everyone, but wasn’t it so fun to have a place where the niche and different thrived? It felt special.

4. Twitter is going down in flames. It’s no secret that Twitter’s website has started to worsen ever since Elon has taken ownership. Twitter already doesn’t let you curate your dashboard as much as it should, since you’re seeing what other people like, but not what you like. It guarantees that you will see content you don’t want to more than you would on a social media like Tumblr where filtering content is so much easier. This is why it’s much easier to avoid discourse on Tumblr if you choose to do so. Also, no one on Twitter uses tags due to the short character count on a tweet, resulting in lots of unfiltered content coming your way. Yes you can mute words, but you definitely already have or will see art or other imagery you don’t want to see due to short and irrelevant captions. Additionally, Twitter is no longer being moderated by anybody. Elon Musk has fired the majority of the staff that regulates content violating Twitter’s rules. Reporting on Twitter essentially does almost nothing at this point. Apart from that, you have the option to remove ads on Tumblr, the checkmarks here are more colorful, you can have several blogs all under one email, and if all that isn’t convincing enough, you can at least leave Twitter as a “fuck you” to Elon if that’s more your style.

5. Tumblr as a website and app have both improved. Not only did they get rid of the porn-detection algorithm, but they also provided us with many more options to customize our dashboards. The app is significantly less buggy as well. And now you can choose from a set of a couple colored themes in settings for when you’re browsing the dashboard and search.

6. The amount of personalization you can have with your dashboard and blog is unlike any other website. It’s only improved but even before it was one of the key features that has made Tumblr different.

7. Tumblr is less stressful than other social medias. Due to how good the content filtering is, we can avoid a lot of unwanted content. Less discourse, less triggering, less negativity. You don’t have the other common social media pressures of following a certain amount of people because it’s common to hide that information here, along with the amount of followers you have. That means anyone here can be “Tumblr famous.” Blocking is also frowned upon on most social medias, but it’s pretty commonplace on Tumblr. Block everybody if you want to, even me.

Thank you for reading. My next post will be what we can do to revive Tumblr. In the meantime, please follow, like, share, comment, and reblog.

#Sorry for the crosstags #tumblr #tumblr revival #tumblr revive #artists on tumblr #photographers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #dsmp #mcyt #kawaii #anime #manga #grunge #meme #tumblr holidays #discourse #feminism #misogny #ask game #ask meme #webtoon #writeblr #voltron #steven universe #pokemon #politics #kpop #bts #succession

[maydaysimsold]

Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge

Welcome to the Edgar Allan Poe Legacy Challenge! I took his macabre, melancholy, and tormenting work and devised this challenge across ten generations.  Here is the link.

Please keep this mind that this is a Rated R legacy challenge. Poe’s work is a reflection of the tragedies in his life as well as the rejections he’s experienced and the addictions he struggled with.

I tried my best to note triggers prior to each generation. If you're playing this challenge, please tag me!!

Generation One: "The Raven"

Triggers: infidelity, heartbreak, isolation, depression

While the other kids played in the sun and splashed in the mud, you spent your time happily clacking away on your typewriter and playing sonnets on your violin. Your parents worried that you weren’t socializing so they encouraged play dates. 

You begrudgingly went to them until one day, you met Lenore, your raven-haired muse. (You don’t have to stick to the name Lenore).

Love blossomed quickly for you, until Lenore was suddenly gone from your life. This manifested your parent’s worst fear: you no longer socialized. They tried their hardest to get you to leave your room but they were met with haunting violin songs and frantic typing. As soon as you could, you moved out from their home to have even more isolation.

Aspiration: Bestselling Author

Traits: Gloomy, Creative, and Loner

Skills: Writing. At least level 4 in Painting and Violin.

Get a computer and join the Freelancer (Fighting Words) career as your sole source of income. Even odd jobs should be avoided unless you can do them from home. Remember, you want as little interaction with other people as possible.

Buy the Creative Visionary reward.

Write at least one book named after Lenore in some way.

Marry someone who reminds you of Lenore (doesn’t have to be the negative/sad/depressing parts- unless you want it to be!) Get creative with how you meet them. Have only one child (unless you get twins, etc.) 

Optional: Start off in a grungy, dirty home. The only item you’re allowed to cheat is your computer so you can start writing.

If you use cc’s, you can decorate your home raven-themed.

Bring home random lovers who you call Lenore in bed. Have your spouse walk in on you cheating as much as you can. 

Die of unnatural causes either a few days before or when your heir becomes a young adult.

Generation Two: "Annabel Lee"

Triggers: loss of spouse/parent

Your parents didn’t have the perfect marriage but it didn’t sour your understanding of love. You learned how to love them unconditionally, even if it meant being the parent of your parents at a young age. When you began to have romantic relationships, you always wore your heart on your sleeve. After graduating high school, you kissed your parents goodbye because you couldn’t deal with the gloom and doom of your childhood home anymore.

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Romantic, choose/randomize the other two.

Skills: Parenting and Charisma.

Have several relationships throughout your teenage and young adult life. They can be as casual/loving/serious/etc. as you’d like. 

Your career is completely up to you.

Meet the love of your life and move to somewhere by the sea.

Have at least two children. Be as present as you can in their lives, throwing incredible birthday parties, reading them to bed, and showering them with love.

Have your partner pass away before your first child reaches young adulthood.

Optional: Since your father was an acclaimed writer, you can start with a little extra money.

Have a bedroom specifically dedicated to your Annabel Lee that no one is allowed to go in but you. You can leave the urn there if you’d like.

If you remarry, they cannot know about the secret room.

Due to the graphic nature of the upcoming generations, I rather not post them on Tumblr. Instead, read the rest here.

This is my first ever challenge! Any comments, suggestions, and love notes are welcome in the askbox.

P.S. Please don't share this as your own or edit it to distribute as your own. I worked hard on this challenge and I hope that my wishes could be respected. Thank you, mayday 🌹

#sims 4 #edgar allan poe legacy #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 simblr #the sims #the sims community

[baby-girl-e]

are you still open for icemav fic based on your spotify wrapped playlist? if yes, can i request song number 10 on your playlist? but if not, feel free to skip this request hehe thank you very much in advance!

Yes of course I'm still taking submissions!!! I will be until every one of the songs are written for, however long that takes!

Song number 10 is Always Forever by Cults!

Now this one is going to be more based on the vibe of the song rather than the lyrics! I've always thought of this song to be a very sappy love song, like the singer was just hopelessly in love, so I thought what better way to convey that then Ice and Mavs very unofficial wedding! This is told in Ice's POV and it's unbeta'd and a whopping 3.2k words so.... good luck! This one really got away from me but I love it so here:

Ice and Maverick had decided to get married fairly early on. To any out couple the speed at which they’d talked about marriage was about as fast as the tomcat’s they flew but it really made sense to them. Sure they weren’t really getting married, by legal standards at least, but to them and their friends that knew it meant just as much. Ice had been the first to bring it up on their first anniversary and scared the shit out of Pete but he recovered quickly and said it was indeed something he had wanted. 

So here they were the night before their wedding, sitting on the couch in the lowlight of the almost burned out lamp and the moon filtering in from the blinds, holding each other while the radio played some love song in the background. Tom had never felt so content in his whole life, his future husbands in his arms while he played with his fingers, Pete had a proclivity for twisting his fingers around Tom’s ring finger lately and he imagines it’ll only become more frequent after they exchange rings the next day. It’ll break his heart to have to put it on his dog tags when they go to work, but they have a few days off after the wedding so he won’t worry too much just yet. 

“Baby?” Pete’s soft voice broke him out of his thoughts.  

“Yeah?” Tom continued to play their fingers together, Pete halfway on his lap with his back to Tom’s chest. 

“We’re doing the right thing right? Getting married?” Pete didn’t sound doubtful, but he did sound like he was making sure Tom didn’t have any doubts. 

“You still love me right?” Tom knew the answer, but he wanted to hear him say it. 

“Of course! Why would you say that!?” His answer was immediate and rushed as though Tom suggesting he didn’t love him was akin to him saying he hated flying. 

“I know but I wanted to prove a point. As long as you love me and I love you we’re doing the right thing.”

“But what about-” Tom cut him off by wrapping his arm around his waist and turning him slightly to face him. 

“No but’s Pete. We love each other and that’s all that matters okay? Yeah it’s not the safest option but when have you ever chosen the safest option? I seem to remember telling a certain pilot he was dangerous and he never left.” 

“Yeah I think it turned him on a little too.” That got Pete a gentle slap to the side. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” The little smirk on his face told Ice that yes he did. 

“I have it on good authority that you like that.” 

Tom just laughs and shakes his head and releases Pete slightly so he can relax back into his chest. His heart was swelling with love and he couldn’t help but just swim in his love for a moment. He felt like a teenager in love, his whole body aware of the man beside him. Part of him wanted to fucking bat his eyelashes and sigh like they did in the movies for christsake. 

“You and me Pete. Always, forever.” He knew it was quite literally the sappiest thing he could’ve said but to hell with it. He loved Pete Mitchell and he wanted him to know it. 

“Always forever.” He repeated the words back to him like they were the most natural words in the world. He supposed they were. 

The next morning they woke together and had breakfast in their kitchen before Pete headed to Carole’s to get ready. They thought that the whole spending the night apart before the wedding thing was silly, especially because for one they didn’t want to spend any night apart and for another they weren't a traditional couple anyways. 

As for their wedding attire they just went with simple black tuxedos, not really comfortable wearing their dress white’s even if they would’ve for a legal wedding. They didn’t want the Navy to have any part of their day, they had already taken so much. 

With Pete at the Bradshaw’s Tom had time to really think about what he was about to do. What this meant for him. He was about to get married in private, without his parents there, and even against the fucking law. He was essentially tying himself to a sinking ship. Even one of those things should’ve scared the shit out of him but he was as calm as he’s ever been. 

The whole secret thing was a given, they were prepared to live their entire lives together in private. They couldn’t read the future and they didn’t dare to get their hopes up. Getting married without his parents there stung a little, but he’d been prepared for this to be the case. He really hadn’t ever planned on getting married anyways, knowing early on that he wasn’t like the other boys. Now, going against the law was the only thing that freaked him out a little. He prided himself on following the rules, it was the only way he could survive for the longest time, but now he was doing the one thing that could slap him with a dishonorable discharge before he could even blink. 

But he had Pete. 

That’s what kept him from freaking out this entire time. If he had Pete he could be slapped with a hundred dishonorable discharges and he wouldn’t care. Yes he was tying himself to a sinking ship but Pete would be there to pull him up. He was sure. 

He was in his tuxedo and then went to grab Pete’s ring when he heard the door open and shut. 

“Babe you know it’s bad luck to see me before the wedding right?” He shouted out to who he thought was Pete, inevitably forgetting something. 

“Well I’ve always known you loved me but should you really call me babe? I don’t need shortstack beating me to a pulp with all of his pent up small energy.” 

Slider? How was he here? He was supposed to be in Florida for the next six months teaching. He ran out and sure enough, there was his best friend standing in his living room in a nice suit. 

“Slider!!” Tom ran to him and picked him up into the tightest hug he’s ever given the man. 

“Hey Tom, glad to see me?” Tom set him down and put his hands on his shoulders. He really couldn’t believe it. 

“Glad? I’m ecstatic! How are you here? I thought you were supposed to be in Florida?” he hadn’t checked his dates wrong had he?

“I was but it seems that your husband-to-be knows the right people. Apparently he asked Viper to get me home for a few days and it looks like he delivered.” The ever thoughtful Pete. He loved his future husband so goddamn much. And if it were possible to send the card without outing himself he would send Viper a thank you note. 

“Ron, I’m getting married.” It was suddenly hitting him now that he was indeed about to be a husband. 

“Yeah buddy, I’m here to walk you down the aisle okay?” Tom looked at him with eyes that rivaled Bradley's when Carole agreed to let him sleep over at his uncles’ house. 

“You’d do that? For me?” He knew it was a stupid question but he could’nt help it.

“Tom, I’d take a bullet for you. Of course I’d walk you down the aisle.” 

“And I am doing the right thing right?” He found himself repeating Pete’s question from the night before, now understanding where he was coming from.

“Tom, this is coming from someone who hasn’t always liked Mitchell so I hope you’ll know I’m being serious. You are about to make the most right choice you’ll ever make in your entire life. That man that pulled strings to get me here and is currently pacing poor Caroles living room is the most right person for you. He absolutely adores you so much it’s disgusting sometimes. I’m confident that this is the one thing in your life you can’t possibly regret. That and flying with me I think.” 

His friend's words hit him like a truck and he knows they’re all true. Pete is his everything and he knows he means just as much to him. He can do this. 

He tells Slider as much and he gives one of the grooms a pat on his back before walking him out. They take Slider's car so that Ice can nervously wring his fingers together on the drive. They arrive at the Bradshaw residence, which was chosen for their spacious backyard and high fences for privacy, and Ice can see the subtle decoration of white roses on the front porch. They didn’t want to draw attention and if they were caught they could easily play it off as a fancy party among friends but that didn’t stop Carole from doing what she could to make it feel like a wedding. 

“You ready for this Tommy?” Slider looked over to his anxious friend and grinned. 

“More than you’ll ever know.” Ice was the most excited he’s ever been for anything. 

They go in through the front door and find Carole waiting there for them. She had planned out the entire thing, Pete was to go out first walking down the makeshift aisle to wait for Tom at the end. 

“Hey Tom, excited?” She was grinning ear to ear in her nice pink dress and bouquet of flowers. She was going to be their only bridesmaid, accompanied down the aisle by their only groomsman, nine year old Bradley. In the small audience there would be a few aviators, Chipper and Sundown, Hollywood and Wolfman, and Merlin. 

“Ecstatic Carole, thanks for this.” He gave the woman a hug but when she pulled away she had a very mischievous look on her face. 

“If there was one more surprise would you totally kill us?” Tom couldn’t possibly imagine there was more than Slider but out walked Mike Metcalf himself. His heart dropped at the sight of the CO. Had they really been found out already? 

“Take a breath son, nobody's reporting you.” He had his hands out and he approached Tom like he was a wild animal. “I figured it out on my own a few weeks ago and when I called Carole today I asked if I could walk Pete down the aisle. He just didn’t want you to be blindsided in the middle of the ceremony.” 

His fiance was ever thoughtful. He never wanted to hurt him, even if it meant hiding while Mike made himself known before they started the ceremony. 

“Oh, well thank you sir. I’m sure Pete’s glad to have you walk him down the aisle. He speaks very highly of you.” 

“Damn Kazansky, at least call me Viper if you’re going to marry my godson. I’m going to get back to him so we can get things started, I bet you’re just as anxious as he is.” 

“That I am sir. I’ve wanted him to be my husband for a long time.” Viper gave him a look for calling him sir again but walked away to no doubt find Pete. 

Carole followed him with Bradley in tow, as they were the ones starting the procession. They had decided on a classic love song to both walk down the aisle to, not wanting a traditional wedding march to tip off any unsuspecting neighbors. Pete had probably ever Nat King Cole record to ever exist and they often danced in their living room together to his songs so it was only fitting for the opening notes to “When I Fall In Love” to play out softly in the backyard. 

Slider offered his arm to his best friend and he took it, tearing up slightly. 

“I’m so proud of you Tom. Truly.” Even Ron was tearing up. Tom didn’t trust his voice to say much else but gave him a nod before they walked out to the back porch. 

It had been decorated with grocery store flowers and his friends in folding chairs. The arch that usually stood in the Bradshaw garden was placed about a hundred feet away and his love stood beneath it with Viper by his side. Pete was a sight to see and he nearly stopped breathing. Sure he had seen Pete all dolled up but this was different. This was for their wedding. Slider gave him a little nudge and they proceeded down the aisle, Nat King Cole playing in the background. 

He never took his eyes away from Pete’s, wanting to soak up as much of this as he could, and even gave him a wink. Pete blushed slightly but never faltered in his eye contact nor his smile. This man had him in his pocket, he knew right then that he would do anything for him. Give up anything for him. 

He reached the end of the aisle and Ron released his arm. He gave his friend a hug and mumbled a thank you before turning to take Pete’s hands. He definitely didn’t miss the subtle elbow nudge Pete and Slider had given each other. 

“Hi.” He wasn’t shy, he just didn’t know what else to say. 

“Hey, wanna get married?” Tom laughed and Viper stood behind them to begin the ceremony. 

“Hello everyone, you all know me as I was once your instructor, but today I’m here as a godfather. A couple weeks ago I found out that these two had finally figured their shit out and decided to get married.” That got a small laugh out of their guests. 

“Now I know they’ve been together a lot longer than a few weeks, but to me the news was the best I could’ve ever got at that moment. I had the privilege to see them meet for the first time and to witness first hand how much love had been there even in the beginning. They weren’t as subtle as I’m sure they thought they were and I knew they weren’t paying any attention to me that first day.” 

Pete hung his head in mock shame and Tom threw his back in laughter. He really thought he was slick. 

“From that day on, I had hoped they would one day fall in love and well… I’m so glad I got to witness it. Boys, I’m terribly sorry things have to happen this way, but I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say we have your back.” He was met with cheers from the rowdy ‘86 boys, and Bradley joining in. 

“I’ve been told you prepared your own vows? Pete, if you'd like to go first?” He gave Pete a reassuring pat on the back and Pete released one of Tom's hands to pull a small folded paper from his pocket. 

“Tom, I’m not a man of words but I’m going to give it a try. No time like the present. I love you more than I can ever express and I’m so grateful to have you as my wingman forever. You flew into my life at the exact right moment, and saved my life. I know you always say I saved yours up there the day of the Layton rescue but really you saved mine. After losing Goose I was so lost, but you were there to guide me back. If you’ll let me, I want to vow to always guide you back. To be there for you forever.” 

He had said those last words with such finality that Tom teared up along with Pete. He knew he meant it. 

“I have mine memorized so, ha.” He quipped at his almost husband and earned himself a loving eye roll. “Pete, you amaze me. Every day with you I discover something new and wonderful about you and myself and I am so thankful I get to witness your magic up close. As I was thinking about what to say, a conversation I had had years ago came to mind. Back in 1986 the day you had ditched us playing volleyball to go on your date with Charlie, and I won't be holding that against you okay?” 

Pete laughed and mumbled an apology before Tom continued, “But that day when we were walking back to base from the beach I pulled Goose aside to ask him where you had gone. He told me that you were on a date. I asked “with who” because I was obviously jealous, but he said he couldn’t tell me as he promised not to tell.” 

Pete was now actively crying at the mention of his late best friend and Tom paused to thumb away his tears. 

“Instead he told me something else. He told me ‘Tom, I just want him to be happy. I don’t think she’s the one, but I hope he finds them soon because he deserves to be loved that way.’ I don’t know why he said that to me, your proclaimed enemy at the time but I think some part of him knew. He was a perceptive fellow, it’s what made him such a good RIO, but he was especially attuned to you my love. I vow to live up to his words every day, to love you in the way you deserve, and in the way Nick had always wanted you to be loved.” 

Mav all but slammed into Tom with a hug, shaking with tears and he looked up to see Carole being cuddled by her son in the same way. Tears for her late husband evident on her face. Ever since he fell in love with Pete he felt her pain. If he ever lost Pete he didn’t know how he could go on. 

“I’ll make this quick as I know you're anxious for this next part.” Pete had released Tom and his tears were replaced by buzzing energy, he was about to be a husband and he was nearly shaking with the excitement from it. 

“Thomas “Iceman” Kazansky, do you take this man to be your husband?” Finally. 

“I do.” He had never been so sure about anything in his life. 

“Peter “Maverick” Mitchell, do you take this man to be your husband?” 

“I do.” Pete was looking him dead in the eye and he could see the certainty. Deadly serious. 

“Then by the power given to me by Mrs. Bradshaw this morning, I now pronounce you husbands. Please kiss each other already.” He stepped aside for the grooms to have their moment and for Carole to step out and get the perfect shot. 

Tom pulled Pete into a kiss and sure by definition it wasn’t the best one they’ve ever shared because they were smiling through it, but it was the best one because it was their first one as husbands. They weren’t husbands by law but they could care less, they were married in the only ways that mattered. They had vowed to love each other forever and they didn’t need their government to sign off on it. 

When they pulled back Tom rested his forehead on Pete’s and breathed in the moment. Tom didn’t mind if they stayed alone together, he’d keep their love a secret forever if it meant he got to keep it. Always, forever. 

#Icemav #wedding #grooms #spotify wrap 2022 #playlist #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun #maverick x iceman #iceman x maverick #iceman kazansky #icemav fic #wedding fic #always forever