#and now every little inconvenience is a disaster to me

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Don't you think it's a bit sad how socially if you're bad at something or something doesn't go your way you can talk about it freely and everyone is sympathetic and when something finally goes right everyone cheers

But if things usually go well for you you're supposed to shut up about it lest it sounds like you're bragging or trying to make others feel miserable and when something finally goes wrong everyone calls that "karma", is happy about your misfortune or tells you to suck it up because "everything else goes great for you why do you care"

I don't know I suppose I'm just a privileged whiny child that is upset that something isn't as good as she wanted it to be

[sescoups]

on my knees - choi seungcheol

masterlist

summary: your best friend and roommate is out of the country, and you come home to find nothing short of a disaster. who else would you have called but her brother?

word count: ~9k oops

a/n: I have no fucking clue what happened to me, but I just started writing and then didn't stop for like 4 hours so. here you go. you're welcome and also I'm sorry.

18+ MDNI!! warnings under the cut!

warnings: heavy kissing, seungcheol is the epitome of a Simp, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't), oral sex (f receiving), slight size kink, let me know if I missed something!

You had been best friends with Sua since you were both six years old. One of the older boys had pushed you onto the ground, wanting to be ahead of you in the line for the slide. Most of the other kids had laughed as tears started pouring down your cheeks, your knee rubbed red and raw and your pretty dress covered in dust and gravel.

“Are you really so immature you can’t even wait your turn?” a small voice had piped up.

Through the haze of your tears, you had seen a pretty black-haired girl kneel down to help you out. She had brushed away the worst of the dirt from your dress, and leaned in to look at your knee.

“I don’t know much about scrapes,” she said thoughtfully, “but I think you should clean it. That’s what my mom always says to me and my brother.” Then she smiled before standing up and glaring at the boy again. “You’re a poopyhead, and I will never play with you.”

Thinking back on it as adults, you always laughed at her phrasing; even more amusing was the way the little boy had taken Sua’s comment way too seriously and tried to fight her in the playground. Before any of the adults had been able to intervene, Sua’s older brother had stepped between the two of them menacingly, arms crossed across his chest. He was three years older, so the other boy quickly back-tracked when faced with Seungcheol’s nine-year old frame. After the little boy had run away out of fear, crying, the two siblings had helped you off the ground and to your parents.

The rest was history; playdates as children, study dates in middle and high school, and spending every single summer vacation together. You had gone from climbing trees to shopping at the mall, and from learning the alphabet to crying your way through chemistry together. Well, you more than her, but still. The suffering was mutual.

Your dynamic remained largely unchanged throughout the years. You were the crier, and Sua was the fixer. You hated the way you cried at the smallest inconveniences, and often felt bad for Sua for having to fix it, but she always said it was cute. She said you were just like that, and that was okay. Sua had her own quirks, mainly being quick to anger - you reassured her that you didn’t mind holding her back from fights and silencing her before she could yell insults at undeserving people, so really, you were the same. Just, you know, in a different way.

Another thing that never really changed was the way Seungcheol took care of the both of you. He helped out with homework when he could, taught Sua how to fight (truly a dubious decision considering her anger, but that was his business and not yours), and scared away any icky boys that were mean to you.

It was a very different dynamic to how other siblings seemed to act, but since you were an only child, you wouldn’t really know. Though, to be fair, he seldom held back the snarky comments when the opportunity presented itself. He would roll his eyes whenever you cried, call Sua an idiot when she didn’t understand a math problem, and generally be a dick when you played games together. It was all in good fun, you supposed.

Now, being 24 years old and two years out of college, Sua was your roommate and your rock. She was the one who put up with your generally messy habits and lack of cooking acumen, and she only complained once a month or so. In return, you were the one to make sure bills were paid on time and keep the freezer stocked with ice cream during the hot summer months. A symbiotic relationship, if you’d ever seen one.

You saw significantly less of Seungcheol, though he was far from an uncommon fixture in your household. He knew the code for the keypad on the door, so sometimes he just showed up unannounced to raid your kitchen and take a nap on your couch, but you didn’t mind. He did tend to fix anything that was broken and clean up whatever you couldn’t be bothered to, so the transaction was fair in your opinion.

One fateful Tuesday, you received a call during your lunch break at work. Usually, you wouldn’t answer, preferring to take your 45 minutes to scroll down your social media feeds aimlessly while eating your food, but Sua had always had special privileges, so you picked up anyway.

“Hey, sorry, I know I’m interrupting your scheduled vegetable time,” she started, and you snorted in response.

“I am not eating anything with vegetables in it, and I think you know it.” You were opening the store-bought lunchbox while speaking, your phone tucked between your elbow and your cheek.

“If I didn’t cook you dinner every day, you would have scurvy,” she shot back without a second’s hesitation. “No, dumbass, I meant your own brain-turning-to-vegetable time. Duh.”

“Oh, that,” you replied, unphased by her insults and generally snarky tone. You were used to it. And also kind of deserved it.

“Yeah. Well anyway, something came up at work and I’m gonna have to take an unscheduled work trip.”

“Cool. Where to?”

“Tokyo, so not that far,” she sighed, and you could picture her running her fingers through her hair. She never did well with unexpected travel plans. “I have to leave tonight. I just thought I’d let you know, so you can make plans to get takeout tonight.”

You scoffed down the line, placing a forkful of bulgogi in your mouth and chewing quickly. God bless convenience store lunchboxes. “I know how to take care of myself, mom.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you slob.” Again, you could picture Sua’s nose crinkling in disgust. “I’m kidding, by the way. I know you can take care of yourself. Just letting you know I’m leaving so you don’t think I’ve been kidnapped or killed or something.”

“Thank God I don’t have to deal with the paperwork for a missing person,” you deadpanned and took a drink of your Sprite. “No but for real, enjoy the trip. I’ll be fine, and so will you.”

“Thanks,” your best friend sighed back. “I’ll be back in a week or so. I’m gonna go home and pack now, so if anything’s a mess when you get home- actually, nevermind. That doesn’t bother you at all. Bye.”

“Hey-” you started to protest, but the line went dead and you rolled your eyes.

Well. At least now you could have sushi for dinner without having to listen to Sua complain about the smell of raw fish.

You were so ready to become a couch potato as soon as you came home. One of the new employees at work, Jun, had screwed up a pretty important document, so you’d had to stay late and help him fix it. It wasn’t his fault, he was still new, but you were tired nonetheless. You took your shoes off by the door and turned the lights on in the kitchen, placing the bag of takeout on the counter before you heard it.

The water.

You had never had any issues with the pipes in your apartment, but something had obviously gone wrong with the pipes under the bathroom sink, because the floor was absolutely flooded. You gasped and shut your eyes tightly for a second, willing the problem to be miraculously gone as soon as you opened them again. Alas, no such luck.

The tears pressed behind your eyes, begging to make their escape. You tried to hold them back as you thought about what to do to solve the problem. The faucet wasn’t on, so it was definitely the pipes. Damn. You thought about calling the apartment management and asking for help, but their turnover time was two days at the best of times, and the office was already closed for the day. You heaved a deep sigh as you settled on the best option you could think of. You pressed the name in your contacts and begged the universe that he would pick up.

“What’s up?”

Seungcheol sounded relaxed and unbothered, and you could hear the chatter of a TV in the background. You hated to bother him, but hey, it was his little sister’s apartment too. You cleared your throat to try and get rid of the thickness in your throat brought on by the tears.

“Hey, Cheol,” you began, and you heard him sit up immediately and pause whatever was playing on the TV.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He sounded worried; he usually only called you an endearment when he was worried or teasing you. Clearing your throat had evidently not been enough to get rid of the tears in your voice. Some of them finally escaped in tracks down your cheeks, and you swore, leaning your forehead against the doorframe.

“So uh, I just got home, and Sua isn’t here because she’s in Tokyo and I-”

“Y/N, I don’t care about Sua right now. I know she’s fine, she landed half an hour ago. What’s going on with you?”

“The guest bathroom is flooded, like completely, and I don’t know what to do.”

You heard the rustling of clothes and what sounded like keys jingling through the phone. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were fucking dying,” Seungcheol scolded, and you hiccupped a little, apologizing. “No, don’t worry darling, I’m coming over to help, okay?”

“Okay.”

You were sniffling, and you heard him curse under his breath. You hung up after a quick goodbye, and then you were left alone with the mess again. Looking closer, you realized that the bath mat was soaked along with a towel left on the floor. You sighed and took your socks off, deciding to do something productive while waiting for your knight in shining armor.

You took a picture and sent it to Sua, who replied immediately with a bunch of question marks and swear words directed to the apartment management. She also realized they would be no help at this hour. Great.

Once the soaked bath mat and towel were hung up and dripping into the tub as opposed to the flooded floor, you started clearing out some of the decorations that were taking up floor space. There was a giant plant, two laundry baskets, and a really heavy wooden dresser that held all your clean towels - you didn’t want the wood to rot.

You heard the door open while you were in the process of moving the plant. Honestly, you should have waited for Seungcheol to move this one; the plant was heavy as fuck and really awkward to carry, and you could feel your back protesting before you had even gotten it outside of the bathroom.

“What the hell, Y/N.”

The voice was closely followed by a pair of hands grabbing the plant from you and heaving it outside of the door in mere seconds. Showoff.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asked after placing the plant down on a towel, grabbing your upper arm gently. You nodded, and he sighed, squeezing your arm. “Let’s see the- oh fuck.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Hysterically. The bathroom floor was covered in two inches of water, and the sound of more spraying out was echoing off the walls. Your best friend’s brother glared at you for two seconds before he started laughing too. It wasn’t funny, but it kind of was. How had this even happened? And how had Sua not seen anything when she was home to pack?

“Sorry, Cheol,” you giggled, wiping under your eyes to get rid of the tears that were still falling. Typical. “I, uh, wanted to move the plant and the dresser to make more room and-”

“Darling, that plant was almost heavier than you are. Not to mention that dresser. What were you thinking?”

His voice soothed your panic. He had been solving your problems for the past eighteen years, after all; this was nothing he couldn’t handle. He looked ruffled, you realized. He had been relaxing after a long day at work when you called, and had gotten to your apartment as fast as he could just to help you. And now he was here, being all nice and caring and calling you sweet names. You felt like a stupid child.

“I-I’m sorry. For calling you, I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Absolutely not. You can call me about anything at any time, you got that?” he asked sternly, gazing directly into your eyes. You swallowed, but nodded. His words gave you unwelcome butterflies, the intensity of his gaze making you look away.

“Got it,” you replied when a nod didn’t seem to be enough for him. “Uhm, so how do we deal with this?”

For a moment, the only sound you could hear was the steady spray of water coming from under the sink. You realized that all the products underneath would be useless now, and you would probably have to change out the entire cabinet housing the pipes. You felt a migraine start a steady throb against your temples, and you deflated even more, resting against the doorway.

“It’s okay, I’ll fix it for you, darling,” Seungcheol said softly, pulling you in for a hug. Your stomach erupted in butterflies again. You seriously needed some psychological help.  “Just go change, okay? You must be exhausted.”

You shook your head, but relented when he lifted an eyebrow at you. You went to your room and closed the door. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at nothing. Your bathroom was flooded. And your best friend’s brother was helping you fix it, calling you sweet nicknames and saying shit straight out of a romance novel - as if your dumb crush on him needed any more encouragement. You sunk onto the edge of your bed for a moment, just breathing deeply and blinking back more tears. Enough was enough.

When you were fourteen or so, you’d had a crush on Seungcheol. Who wouldn’t? He was tall, pretty, smelled good, and helped you with your homework. Ever since then, it would come and go, usually at the most inopportune times. You appreciated his looks pretty often, particularly when he came over to fix stuff for you and Sua, but you tried not to think about it much - mostly out of self preservation. He was still pretty, still nice, still smelled good, and whenever you let your mind wander for more than five seconds, you knew you were in danger.

You definitely should get it under control. First of all, he had known you since you were six. He had seen all your weird phases, watched you find your own identity, and that came with some really cringy stuff. Additionally, you were his little sister’s best friend. You had some loyalty to her, sure, but more than anything you were sure that he saw you as an extra sister or something. Considering the amount of time you had spent at their house growing up, that would only be logical.

Armed with the reminder of why he would never be into you, you shook it all off. You located your regular home attire - bike shorts and a big t-shirt which origins you forgot - and put your hair up and out of your face. Then you steeled yourself again, vowing not to cry at the sight of the water, and walked back towards the accursed bathroom.

You found Seungcheol on his knees in front of the open cabinet from where the water came. He was hunched over, hand in front of him to block some of the water and seemingly looking for something. His white t-shirt had been sprayed with water, and it was sticking to his chest. You gulped at the sight, repeating that he saw you as an annoying crybaby to yourself in order to stop the stupid butterflies that had seemingly taken up permanent residence in your guts.

“Do you need a flashlight or something?” you asked timidly, making him look up at you. He paused and blinked at you once, twice, before clearing his throat and nodding. You got out your phone and turned the flashlight on, carefully stepping in behind him so as not to splash him.

“I, uh, think we need to remove this middle shelf from the cabinet,” he said, having positioned himself to shield you from the spray.

“Alright,” you replied, placing your phone to the side and leaning to grab the shelf before being stopped by one of his hands. He had placed it carefully on bare skin so as not to get your clothes wet. Damn him. “What? I’ll just grab it and get it out of the way for you.”

He scoffed. “You’ll get wet.”

Now it was your turn to blink at him stupidly, eyes wide and questioning. You could feel your cheeks burning, as did your arm where his hand was resting. This stupid, stupid man was going to make you fall in love with him, and that just couldn’t happen. At all.

“Who cares, Cheol? It’s just water. Let me get it out of your way, and I’ll hold the flashlight again, okay?”

He grimaced, but let go of your arm. You grabbed both sides of the shelf and lifted it. It took a bit of pressure, but eventually it came loose. You backed up slowly and brought the shelf over the tub with the soaked bath mat and dirty towel. Gross.

Even though you had been fast, Seungcheol had been right; your entire torso was soaked with water. You decided that you could do something about it after the leak was dealt with, and so you just ignored it and grabbed your phone again. Your friend was staring at your front with a wrinkle between his brows, mouth open a little, and you rolled your eyes affectionately.

“Cheol.” He looked up at you. “It’s fine. I know you wanted to shield me or whatever, but it’s just a shirt. Now please, help me solve this?”

He nodded wordlessly and turned back to the considerably more spacious cabinet, taking a deep breath. His pout was cute, and you hated your heart for beating faster at the sight of him.

Seungcheol seemed to finally have found what he was looking for, and reached into the cabinet. You altered the angle of the light to make sure he could still see what he was doing despite the shadow of his arm. He grabbed ahold of something and started tugging, his biceps flexing distractingly and his eyebrows screwing up in effort. You were definitely not holding the flashlight in a particularly helpful way anymore, but thankfully your helper didn’t seem to mind.

After a second or two the water slowed before stopping completely, and you cheered out loud. The sound had somehow become grating after only an hour, and the silence was very much welcome. Seungcheol stood up with a wince, holding a hand to his back like an old man. Without thinking, you pulled him into you and gave him a bear hug. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, but held them back. You were just so grateful to have him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You felt him laugh against you before he wrapped an arm gently around you and returned the hug. You pressed your cheek to his chest, just standing there and enjoying the embrace for a while before your brain would inevitably come back online. You felt his chin press against the top of your head for a second before he pulled away suddenly.

“Shit, sorry, I’m all-”

“I said I don’t care, stupid,” you scoffed, but your cheeks were definitely getting red now. How could you have just grabbed him like that? And embraced him? You would have cried if you hadn’t been so tired your head felt like it was full of cotton.

Now that you thought about it, you were extremely tired. It felt like a movie effect, the way your blood pressure just suddenly dropped and you swayed to the side. You were expecting a splash and a very uncomfortable kiss with the tile floor, but instead you found yourself back in Seungcheol’s arms. Oh.

Again with the stupid romance novel shit. The universe was testing you for sure. How were you supposed to resist him, really? You were doomed. Even the thought of your infatuation with him being one-sided could no longer bring you back down to the ground. You were simply fucked.

“When was the last time you ate anything?”

And he cares? Fuck the universe, seriously.

“Uhm, I think it was lunch. I stayed pretty late at work, so-”

“Please tell me you have food.”

“Y-Yeah. It’s uh, it’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

Without hesitation, the man picked you up and carried you into the kitchen. Your heart was going crazy, as were the butterflies in your stomach. You were at a loss for words, just going limp in his arms as he brought you to the dining table and placed you on one of the chairs gingerly. You continued to simply blink at him as he disappeared back into the hallway and came back with his hoodie, pulling it over your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

You wanted to scream and kick your feet, because was this man even real? You had no idea how you had deluded yourself into thinking your feelings toward him were sisterly, because currently, your pussy was screaming for him to come ruin you. And honestly? Both your heart and your head kind of agreed at this moment. You were so screwed.

When he came back with your sushi all plated and a glass for the drink you had bought, you couldn’t help but let the tears come back. You hated that you were so weepy, especially in front of a man you apparently were head over heels for, but it was just who you were. You were sad? You cried. Happy? Cried. Angry? Waterworks. You were helpless to it, and apparently to him, too.

“Good job picking up food on the way back home,” he teased, placing the plate in front of you. Then he poured your drink into your glass for you, promptly ignoring the way you were wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Shut up, I’m an adult,” you pouted back. He snorted loudly and sank into the chair opposite you, looking at you as you picked up your chopsticks and got ready to eat.

“Sometimes, maybe,” he drawled with a smirk. You glared at him, but your teary eyes had little to no effect, and you knew it. “I’m kidding, baby. I know.”

He was still studying your face as you placed the first piece of heaven into your mouth, sighing happily and smiling in delight. It made him smile, too, and you could have died at the sight of his dimples. At this point, you had just accepted the butterflies and their claim to your stomach; doing anything else seemed futile.

“I’m sorry I’m so weepy, Cheol,” you said between bites, pouting a little. He shook his head but you interrupted him before he could speak. “No, really. There was no reason to cry so much, or so many times, but I just- I don’t know. I literally got home right before I called you, and that was, what? At around-”

“9.30.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and tilting your head back in exhaustion. “9.30. I’m just tired, is what I’m trying to say.” You sat back up and huffed, sending him an embarrassed smile.

“And what I’m trying to say,” Seungcheol said while you readjusted the sleeves of his hoodie, “is to not worry about it. I know you’re an emotional person, but that’s okay.” He paused for a second, smiling when you almost dropped your sushi into the soy sauce. “Being emotional is just a tiny part of who you are. You excel at so much; it’s okay to have a few flaws. We all do, I promise. Besides, being emotional isn’t really a flaw, it’s just part of being human.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. First of all, he was way too well-spoken to be a man in his twenties. Second of all, if he was implying that he, of all people, had any flaws, he was dead wrong. You had never seen him fail at anything, had never seen him do something awkward, even as a child. God, you wished he had, because maybe then he could have remained the brother of your best friend instead of becoming so incredibly meaningful to you.

“As if you have any flaws,” you mumbled, sticking another piece of food in your mouth. At least the sushi was good.

“Oh please, sweetheart. I’m twenty-seven and single. There’s plenty wrong with me.”

You shook your head vehemently. “Being single is not a flaw, you dummy. It’s just a relationship status. Who cares.”

“As if that’s all it is,” he laughed back.

“Okay, so the fact that I’m single reflects badly on me? ” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Good to know.”

Your plate was empty, and your chopsticks were resting on the edge of it. The only sound in the apartment was a steady, slow drip from the drying bath mat in the bathroom. You were staring at one another from across the table. Why the tension suddenly was so thick was anyone’s guess. All you knew was that the air in your little kitchen suddenly felt suffocating.

“You’re single?” he asked after a while, and you laughed a little.

“Yeah, Cheol.”

“What about that dude, what was his name… Mingyu?”

“Ew,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “God no. We went on like, one date and then decided it was weird to be anything other than friends. He feels more like a brother than anything.”

“What about Chan?”

“Wh- Chan? That was four years ago,” you laughed, shaking your head. At the curious tilt of his head, you kept going: “He was fine, we just got stressed during college and broke up. It happens.”

Something about this line of questioning felt momentous, for a few reasons. One, he was inquiring about your dating life, a topic the two of you generally never talked about. Two, he remembered the name of potential partners that had been in your life, even ones that hadn’t stuck around for long (or at all, in Mingyu’s case). And three… the way he looked at you was different. There was something in his gaze that you couldn’t place, something you didn’t know if you dared hope for.

“Well he’s obviously an idiot,” Seungcheol said under his breath. You were probably not supposed to hear it, but you did. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he looked at you guiltily, as if he had done something wrong. “I just meant that- uhm.”

A few seconds passed in silence. You barely dared to breathe. You were hoping he would keep going, hoping he would clarify before your thoughts went way too far again. The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Finally, he let out the heaviest sigh you’d ever heard.

“No, you know what, I meant it. He was an idiot for breaking up with you, because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Time stopped. What do you say after that? You wanted to scream with joy and jump his bones, of course, but you couldn’t exactly do that. What if he didn’t mean it like that? If he didn’t feel the way you hoped he was implying? Because he, or more specifically his sister, was such a huge part of your life, and awkwardness was just not an option.

“Are-” you started, but blinked and started over. “Are you… serious?”

“Of course I am, Y/N.” He sounded almost exasperated. He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, making it fall over his forehead in the most attractive way you had ever seen. Fucking. Unfair. “I’m not- I mean. I get it if you don’t feel the same or anything, but-”

“Feel what, exactly?” When he stared at you in confusion, you elaborated. “Please be clear with me, Cheol. I don’t want to keep guessing.”

It had come out as a whisper, but he had heard you. His expression softened, and the wrinkle between his brows disappeared. His mouth was slightly open as he seemingly looked for the right words. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you almost felt it in your throat.

“Baby,” he started, and it made your breath hitch. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as dense as you are.”

“Hey!”

“No, seriously,” he kept going, not a single trace of evidence that he was joking, “do you actually mean to tell me you don’t know how I feel about you?”

“Look, I don’t-”

“I guess you don’t, and in that case, that’s my bad.” He got up from his chair and rounded the table, crouching next to your chair and grabbing your hand. “I am so ridiculously into you, it’s not even funny. Sua literally won’t stop teasing me about it, neither will my parents or my friends. No matter how hard I try I can’t stop thinking about you, but I’m honestly not sure I would want to even if I could. You mean so much to me, Y/N, and I really don’t want to be overbearing but I- fuck, I can’t-” he shuts his eyes in an attempt to collect himself, “I love you, baby, and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine, but I at least need you to know that I’m on my goddamn knees for you.”

Your glass, still containing some of your soda, toppled over from the force with which you left your chair. The way you threw yourself at Seungcheol forced him back, but you took the opportunity and placed yourself in his lap as you kissed him deeply. It took him half a second to respond, but then he was kissing you so ardently that you never wanted him to stop.

His arm wrapped around you from behind and pressed you to his chest. You could not give less of a shit that he was sprawled on your kitchen floor, or that you were down there with him, because you were kissing him. You were kissing the man that you most definitely had been in love with since you were a teenager, and fuck did it feel good.

“I, uh, take it you feel the same, then?” he asked after having reluctantly pulled away. You pressed your forehead to his.

“I bet that I have loved you longer.” You were breathing heavily, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Absolutely not,” he replied before kissing you again.

This time, you couldn’t hold back. You nibbled gently on his lower lip before soothing it over with your tongue. Seungcheol groaned deep in his chest and brought his left hand into your hair, pressing you even closer to him. He opened his mouth, letting your tongue tangle with his, and you felt the way he became jelly underneath you. You were not faring much better, your panties hot and sticky and your hands shaking. Despite this, you snaked one hand into his hair and tugged on it; his hips jumped in response, the action seemingly completely involuntary. You didn’t think you’d ever experienced anything hotter.

“Please, baby,” he heaved as you trailed your lips down his neck, “I can’t take it.”

You rolled your hips against his slowly, and that seemed to be his breaking point. He rolled you underneath him before standing up and taking you with him, carrying you into your bedroom while you followed the shape of his jaw up to his ear with your mouth. A shudder streaked through him as you sucked on the spot behind his left ear, his arms tightening around you and a hoarse moan leaving him.

You barely noticed him closing your bedroom door, only brought back to reality by the sensation of falling when he dropped you on your bed. You whined at the loss of contact, which made him smile; he loved the way you craved him, because honestly, he felt the exact same way about you. So he was quick to cover your body with his, his lips back on yours with a shuddered sigh from the both of you.

He felt so big above you, and yet you felt so safe. Not once had he done anything to hurt you. In fact, he had always been the one to take care of you and prevent you from being hurt. (Along with Sua, but you didn’t really want to think about her at that moment). His weight on top of you made you shudder in delight, your hands starting to wander. You played with the hem of his white t-shirt, still damp from the earlier bathroom catastrophe, but you didn’t care at all. All you wanted was to feel his skin against yours.

He was breathing as if he had run a marathon when he pulled away from your lips. He stared into your eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance, but not finding any.

“Are you sure, darling?” he asked, and your heart swelled about three sizes.

“I’m so sure, Cheol. Please, please, I need you.” You were properly whining now, but you were far past caring.

“Okay baby, okay,” he breathed, pulling away to get his shirt up and over his head. He was about to lay back over you, but froze and let his eyes wander your body. He shut his eyes, his forehead wrinkling once again as he took a few deep breaths. “You in my hoodie and underneath me, I can’t- Y/N, baby, I need a second, I’m so-”

You giggled a little before grabbing the hem of said hoodie, pulling it up and over your head. Apparently, that didn’t help, as Seungcheol’s grip on the sheets tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“I thought this would be better,” you said in confusion, blinking up at him.

“I’m actually going to die,” he gritted out, sounding as if he was genuinely in pain. “I don’t think you realize what seeing you in a wet t-shirt did to me earlier, sweetheart. What it’s doing to me now is just torture.” You flushed at his words, having forgotten that little detail. “Wait. Is that my shirt?” You glanced down and flushed even more when you realized it must be. “Fuck, gonna be the death of me, gonna fucking-”

He cut himself off by pressing his lips against yours again. Your head immediately got fuzzy again, the only thought you could formulate being that of his dick inside of you. When he ground his hips against yours and you felt the outline of it, you let out the most sinful moan Seungcheol has ever heard, which caused his hips to keep grinding into you without his brain’s permission. You disconnected your lips from his for just long enough to pull your wet shirt off your alarmingly hot body, and the man on top of you didn’t even have the strength to look at you without a shirt. He might actually have came in his pants if he did.

You didn’t even mind, because you finally had his skin pressed against yours. The heat of him poured over you, driving you absolutely insane and making you whimper against his lips. If he didn’t do something in the next minute, you would just have to take care of yourself.

“Cheol-”

“Please say it again,” he begged, his lips trailing down your neck toward your breasts.

“Cheol,” you sighed, and he moaned against your skin, his dick grinding perfectly against your clit even through four layers of fabric. You barely recognized your own sounds even as you felt them leave your lips, so high on his proximity you couldn’t have produced a thought if you tried.

When you repeated his name one more time he finally closed his lips around your right nipple, his deft fingers playing with the other and his cock still pressing deliciously against your pussy. Your hips lifted to grind back on him, and he actually whined for you.

“Seungcheol,” you whined, and his only response was a harsh thrust of his hips and another whine. “Please, take my shorts off, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He let go of your nipple, chuckling as he looked into your eyes and dragged his hands down to rest on your hips. “Want these off?” he asked, flicking the elastic of your bike shorts against your skin. You nodded frantically, pressing your hips up into his again. He looked like he wanted to protest, so you decided to do the only logical thing and beg for his cock.

“Cheol, please please please, take my shorts off? I need it, please,” you begged, your eyes big and innocent as you stared into his. “I want your cock, baby, want it inside me, please.”

Honestly, it was no surprise that his confident facade crumbled along with his will to tease you any longer. If he was telling the truth, and you had no reason not to believe him, he had been in love with you for a long time. You had played dirty by begging him for his cock when he had already been on the verge of losing his mind - especially with those big, innocent eyes of yours. How was he supposed to say no to you?

“Evil, evil woman, fuck,” he muttered to himself as he all but tore the shorts down your legs along with your panties.

The sight of you, his absolute dream, naked beneath him made him believe in God for two whole seconds, for who could have accomplished something like you but an almighty deity? He must have shaped you with his own two hands, he thought, before coming back to his senses and thinking that no, you were a creation of your own. No one but you could have accomplished something like you.

With very little preamble, Seungcheol lowered himself between your thighs, kissing up the inside of each thigh as he went. He looked up and met your gaze, and you had never seen a more erotic sight. Sure, other people had gone down on you before, but none of them had been Seungcheol; none of them had been the one that counted. His big brown eyes met yours, and you swore you saw raw hunger in them.

“May I, baby? Please?”

“You- You’re begging to eat me out?” you asked, in complete and utter shock. You had figured this was somewhat of a chore to him, something that needed to be done both to woo you and to prep you for his cock. One look at his glazed eyes had you changing your mind.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. His voice was hoarse and his eyes desperate, that simple look giving you enough material for many fantasies in the future. “Please, let me eat you out?”

What were you supposed to do, say no? Absolutely not. You simply nodded at him, and he fucking dove for it. His tongue explored your folds gently but firmly, and as soon as the flavor of you met his taste buds, he was in heaven. His hips ground into the mattress of their own volition as he was lapping at you, his tongue mapping you out and figuring out what brought you the most pleasure.

Seungcheol’s eyes were shut in pleasure, your juices covering his chin all the way up to his nose, but he couldn’t think of anything better. He wanted to drown in you, on his stomach between your legs, or - if he was allowed to dream - underneath you while you were grinding all over his face, taking all the pleasure you could from him.

You weren’t exactly complaining, either. His tongue felt divine, moving to gently circle your clit before he sucked it into his mouth. When your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging in pleasure, your lover let out a grunt that sent vibrations traveling through your entire body.

“F-Fingers, Cheol, please-”

He just grunted an affirmative and pressed his middle finger into you slowly. The warmth surrounding his finger drove him insane, making his hips press harder against the mattress and his eyes squeeze tighter. Having something to clench down on brought your pleasure to even greater heights, and you started to feel the familiar tightening signaling your release. You had felt the outline of his dick earlier, and you knew you would need another finger to make him fit.

“Another, I need you to fit later, baby.”

Your voice came out shaky, but the man consuming your pussy like it was the best meal he’d ever had didn’t seem to mind. He simply let his ring finger join his other inside you, grunting when he felt how tight you were around him. The tightening in your lower belly grew more and more intense by the second, the filthy noises of Seungcheol devouring you bringing you that much closer to the edge. You let out a mewl that sounded like it came straight from a porno, and felt his grip tighten on your thigh.

“I’m so close, baby, so close, please-”

“Come for me,” he growled hoarsely before resuming his delicious torture of your clit.

You followed his request a second later, moaning loudly and squirming around on the bed. His free hand pressed down over your hips to keep you still as he coaxed you through it, and he didn’t stop until the overstimulation almost hurt.

His fingers left your pussy gently, absolutely covered in your slick. You blushed as he put them in his mouth, moaning at the flavor as if you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. And to him, you were. He would remember the flavor of you until the day he died.

Your chest was rising and falling as you gulped down air. The way Seungcheol couldn’t help but grind into the mattress again made you want to cry, because how could he be so perfect? And how could he want you, of all people?

When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and you loved it. It was a reminder of just how voraciously he had just eaten you out, and you took the opportunity to reach down and cup him over his underwear. He hissed and pulled his hips back, panting already.

“I- you can’t.”

“But, baby I just want to return the favor-”

“My love, if you touch me again I can’t guarantee that I will have faculties to be inside you.”

His words made you laugh, both because of how ridiculous his phrasing was, but also because of the effect you seemed to have on him. Had he really been driven so far by making out with you and making you cum? It seemed like it.

“I love you so much,” you ended up breathing out. He gazed into your eyes so adoringly you felt like time stopped again.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

His response prompted you to kiss him, and he deflated on top of you. As he sunk further into your embrace, his still-covered dick brushed against your wet core, and the whine he let out was almost pathetic.

“I hate to ruin the moment, but please, let me be inside you now. I think I’ll die if I can’t,” he confessed. You laughed out loud again before nodding, kissing and sucking a trail down his neck while he removed his boxers. “Condom?”

“I don’t have any, but I have an IUD and I’m clean.” You could practically see Seungcheol’s brain grind to a halt. “But, I mean, if you don’t want to we can just wai-”

“No!” he almost yelled, his entire face flushing pink. “No, I’m clean too, and I- fuck, I would love to be inside you without a condom.”

You nodded, and he took a deep breath. The thought of having him inside you without a barrier excited you to no end, and it seemed he felt the same. You kissed him passionately again while he lined himself up with your core, and moaned through a sigh as he pushed into you. He didn’t have a monster cock or anything, but it was still bigger than what you were used to taking.

As he bottomed out, he let out a punched out sigh. You could feel him shaking on top of you, and did your best not to move or clench down on him. Unfortunately, your pussy didn’t exactly obey you and clenched down anyway. It made Seungcheol’s breath hitch, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight so as not to look at you while he was trying not to cum.

“I swear,” he wheezed, “you are going to kill me.”

His words made you chuckle, which in turn made him groan and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You were ready for him to move, and told him as much, but he still needed a second. You could feel tears sting the corners of your eyes, as per usual feeling weepy as soon as you felt a big wave of emotion. To distract yourself, you locked your lips with his and kissed him with all the passion you had left to give.

As your tongue tangled with his he groaned low in his throat, and his hips thrust into you of their own accord. Once he had started, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to. He started out fairly slow, taking his time to make sure you weren’t hurting at all. Then you accidentally clenched down on him, and he could no longer hold back.

He started pounding into you, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and making you dizzy. You moaned out every time the tip of him hit the spongy spot inside you, and you couldn’t help the way you were clenching around him. You were hurtling toward your end so fast it was almost alarming. He filled you up so perfectly, so perfectly thick and long, it was as if you were made for one another.

Seungcheol was mumbling an endless stream of praise, grunting every time your cunt squeezed him a bit tighter. He felt like he was in heaven, your slick walls molded around him in a way that made him mourn the time spent doing anything other than this. He wanted to keep you like this, impaled on his cock and making you feel as good as you ever had.

Sadly, he was so wound up he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he usually did. While he didn’t blow immediately as he had been worried he would, he started feeling his balls drawing up around five minutes in. The way your nails were scratching down his back wasn’t helping his situation.

In an effort to save himself from cumming before you, he lowered a hand to circle the nub of your clit gently. The extra stimulation was exactly what you needed to build the rest of the way to the edge, and you tangled your hands in his hair as your thighs shook.

“Please, Cheol, baby, I’m gonna-”

“Oh thank God, please cum around me, baby, wanna feel it,” he begged, and it did the trick.

Your orgasm was spectacular, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as you exploded around him. You were moaning his name, clawing at his back and arching your back to the high heavens. Your toes actually curled. It was the orgasm of orgasms.

Seeing you like that, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he brought you pleasure was enough for Seungcheol to follow you over the edge. He came so hard he saw nothing but white, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into you. His face was pressed into your neck, but his moans could not be concealed even if he tried.

You both lay there, panting and soaked in sweat, for a pretty long time before he finally pulled out and rolled off of you. He sprawled on his back and stayed like that, his eyes shut in complete and utter bliss and his heart beating out of his chest. Your hair was an absolute bird’s nest around you, and there were tear tracks running down your cheeks and into your hairline.

You clumsily flopped over to rest against his side, and he pulled you in until your head was resting right over his heart. You slung your bare leg over his waist, and he groaned in what sounded like agony.

“You can’t do this to me,” he whined, and you giggled lightly at him.

“I just put my leg on you, baby,” you said, looking up at him innocently, and he had to shut his eyes for a second and remind himself he wasn’t dreaming. You, yourself weren’t entirely convinced all this wasn’t a dream; and if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

“Okay, well you’ve just seen what seeing you in a hoodie and bike shorts does to me, so,” he reminded you, and you bit back a grin. It was good to know you could tease him easily.

You laid in silence for a while, just listening to his heart beating against his ribcage. Every once in a while it would slow down, and then he would look down at you and it would speed back up. Your heart seemed to match the pace of his, and you found that you loved it that way.

“So, “ Seungcheol started, and you pulled yourself up on your elbow to look at him as he talked. “That… just happened.” You snorted into a laugh, and he joined you, flicking your forehead gently. “I uh, I’m going to a work thing on Friday. I usually don’t bring a date because, well, because I’m usually single, but maybe, this time, I could bring you?”

You blinked at him slowly, admiring him in the light from your bedside lamp. He was pretty no matter what, but with his cheeks glowing and his eyes glittering, he was beyond what was natural, in your opinion. You stroked a bit of his hair behind his ear and hummed.

“I mean, are you not single anymore?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhhhh-” he was interrupted by your laughter, and he pouted at you jokingly. “Don’t do that! I get scared I fucked up,” he said and rolled over to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, “I just don’t know either.” You paused. “Hey Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

At your words, his entire face lit up. He started giggling and buried his face in your hair, trying to hide from view. Even still, you knew he would be blushing. His arms squeezed tighter around you as he pulled you even closer, and you didn’t even mind that you couldn’t breathe.

“I was going to ask,” he ended up whining once brain function had returned to him. “Can I?”

“I mean, sure?” you answered, trying your hardest not to just lean in and kiss away his pout. Your willpower sucked, so you did it anyway.

“Great! Hey, Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

You bit your lip to hold in your laughter, but all it did was summon your boyfriend’s gaze to your mouth. You released it and broke out into a huge grin, nodding.

“I would love nothing more.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Sua said thoughtfully, “you finally put him out of his misery?”

It was a week later, and you were sitting on your balcony with Sua and drinking coffee. The bathroom floor was now dry, and while the stupid bath mat had been unsalvageable, everything else had been fine. The apartment management had gotten the leak fixed after five days, proving that calling Seungcheol had been the right choice for more reasons than one.

Even thinking about him, you couldn’t help but smile. Your boyfriend. The one who had brought you to a work function as your first date, and the one who had gotten jealous because you had greeted a coworker of his when he was getting you a drink. The one that had helped you save your apartment from water damage. The one you had loved for the past decade.

“Okay but how could I have put him through misery if I didn’t know he liked me, hm?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at your friend. She had her eyes closed, face turned toward the sun like an old lady.

“You cannot be serious,” she said incredulously, turning toward you and opening her eyes wide to show her shock. “You’re telling me you didn’t know Cheol was in love with you? He has been so down bad for you since we were like fourteen, man. He bought you flowers for your graduation. He reminded you to take your allergy pills before going to a dog café.” You flushed a little at your own blindness, but Sua just sighed and turned back toward the sun, her eyes closed again. “At least it will be easy to kill him if he hurts you.”

a/n: if you liked this, please don't forget to like and reblog! <3

masterlist

[imfinereallyy]

@henderdads posted this about domestic fluff and I realize that I love this trope and I just don’t write enough of it, and I wanted to give her a little treat to read. Mostly because her tags when she reblogs on my post give me absolute joy, I laugh every time.

Two things might come as a surprise when getting to know Steve Harrington. The first being he didn’t actually like parties. He likes making other people feel good, wants to make them happy. Hence why for years, he lets Tommy and Carol wreak havoc on his house. It makes them happy and, for a short while, makes most of Hawkins High happy. Steve, in retrospect, has learned to regret this since he has now gained a reputation for being a party king, despite not throwing one in years, but he knows all too well how hard it is to let go of a high school reputation.

The second surprising fact is that Steve Harrington hated his birthday. Well, maybe hate wasn’t the right word, but he has incredibly low expectations for his birthday. Either everyone forgets his birthday, or somehow Steve is reminded that he is an inconvenience.

“Sorry sweetie, your dad has a business meeting that day.”

“Dude, I have a baseball game in that night could we do something another day?”

“I’m late! I know, we stayed up all night playing D&D. I even forgot to call Suzie!”

Steve isn’t necessarily hurt per se when these things happen. He knows that some people, more than others, are really trying. That it’s human to make mistakes. But Steve doesn’t like to get his hopes up; that’ll be much better than that.

There is also the more commonly now known fact that Steve doesn’t like being the center of attention. And birthdays come along with a lot of that. Sure, Steve wants someone to pay attention to him, really listen to what he has to say, but he has long since out grown the desperate need to have everyone look at him.

It is why it is such a surprise the upside down crew throws him a 24th birthday party.

Steve always thought something like this would upset him, but he is delightfully warm at the sight of all his friends, all of his family, inside Robin and Nancy's apartment screaming,

“Surprise, Dingus!”

Steve can’t believe she got everyone to say that.

After the shock of seeing them all packed like sardines wearing party hats, Steve can’t help but smile.

Eddie walks up to him, placing a hat on his head and a soft kiss on his cheek. “I tried to stop them,” Eddie whispers. “I know you don’t like parties, but they just wanted to show how much they love you. It was hard to say no.”

Steve turns to Eddie, a man who knows him inside and out and knows he can’t lie to him. “I thought I would hate this, but I don’t. It’s perfect.” He kisses Eddie on the lips, just as soft as the one before.

“Good, because I really didn’t try to stop them.” Eddie smiles into the kiss.

“Ew!”

“Gross!”

“Get a room!”

Various shouts across the room cause the couple to giggle and pull apart. Eddie flips them all off, “It’s been four years, assholes! Grow up.”

Eddie runs off to particularly chase Mike, who actually hasn’t said anything but did make a face, and Steve can’t help but be overwhelmed by joy.

🎉🦇🎉🦇

Hours later, after the cake has been cut and the presents have been shared, and his kiddos are definitely way too drunk, the party doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. And Steve, who is having fun but growing antsy since he slowed down on drinking years ago, isn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He doesn’t want to ruin the fun or make anyone think he didn’t have a good time. This is one of the best birthdays, if not the best one, he’s ever had. But Steve is getting overwhelmed and worn out. He isn’t really tired, but being social has reached its capacity for the night.

Even so, he can’t help but laugh at Robin as she tells a story about the most recent disaster of her sign language class, where kids keep accidentally swearing instead of the proper words.

Eddie catches his eye across the room; he looks happy as he talks to Hop and Wayne. But even mid-conversation, across the sea of people, he tugs his helix piercing over his right ear twice.

It’s their signal for, “Do you want me to come over?”

Steve rubs the scar over his left eye twice, “Yes please.” It means.

Eddie excuses himself and makes his way to Steve. “Hey, baby.” He interrupts Robin mid-rant, who makes a sound of drunken protest. “Did we feed Mrs. Pierson’s cat today?”

Another signal, which translates, “Do you want to go home?”

And Steve knows he can just tell Eddie yes, and they can stay at the party, and Steve will have fun, and he’ll be happy, but it isn’t what he wants. What he wants is to be at home with their own cat Beelzebub, snuggled up in their bed. So Steve says, “Shit, I don’t think we did.” Yes, please. Let’s go home.

Eddie acts quickly. They make their rounds, say goodbyes, and make their excuses. Everyone lovingly pokes at their forgetfulness. The couple insists everyone stays and enjoys themselves. Steve thanks everyone with individual hugs.

Steve and Eddie hold pinkies the entire walk home, down the streets of Indianapolis. The dark night blanket of night, and the never-ending sound of the city, keeping them safe enough to risk the intertwined digits.

When they make it home, they say nothing. They unwind slowly. Sharing kisses, delicately take off each other's clothes, hum into each others mouths. There is nothing rushed, or rough; they have time now. There will be moments for that later.

And in their journey from the front door to the bed, Eddie kisses the place where Steve’s shoulder and neck meet. It’s his signal for “I love you.”

Later, when they are tangled up in the sheets, heavy breaths slowing down, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, Steve leans up and kisses the tip of Eddie’s nose. It’s his signal for “I love you more.”

Eddie’s smile back says, “that just isn’t possible.”

“Thank you for today.” Steve finally speaks out loud, playing with Eddie’s fingers.

“Oh, it isn’t over yet, baby.” And Eddie jumps out of bed naked, running out of the room.

Steve can’t help but cackle at his boyfriend's antics. There is a sudden thump on the bed; Steve peeks down to see their cat making his home on the end of their bed like he knows they are finally done for the night. “Hey, bee.” Steve scratches him behind his ear, earning a resounding purr from him. A little to the left, it means.

Eddie comes back into the room and dives back into the bed, bouncing Beelzebub but not startlingly him enough to move. Steve supposes he’s used to his father's antics. “Okay, I would tell you to close your eyes, but I know you’re not going to listen, so I’m just going to hand them to you.”

Steve giggles and grabs the pieces of paper in his hands and his heart stops. “Eddie.”

“Steve.” Eddie’s grin is wide.

“These are three tickets to see Madonna.”

“Yup.” Eddie pops his ‘p’ clearly proud of himself. “One for you, one for Robs of course, and one for me.”

Steve whispers in awe, “But you hate Madonna.”

Eddie brushes the hair out of Steve’s face, “Please, no one can hate Madonna.” Eddie’s eyes turn soft, “Besides, you love her, and you love me. It only felt fair to have us both in the same place. And you’d worry the entire time if I wasn’t there.”

Steve throws his arms around Eddie, squeezing him tight. Hoping he can translate how much he loves this man through it. Steve loves making other people happy, but no one has loved making Steve happy, quite like Eddie. “I love you so much,” Steve says once he leans back.

Eddie kisses the place where his shoulder and his neck meet. I love you. Eddie kisses the tip of his nose. I love you more. Finally, he holds Steve’s face and says aloud,

“I love you too.”

***

Was this perhaps inspired by the fact I turn 24 in a week and a half? Maybeee. I’m a lot like Steve in this where I have such mixed feelings about my birthday. I’m feeling a lot of anxiety about it if I’m honest, and I don’t have high hopes.

Unlike me, I don’t have a partner like Eddie, but Steve deserves the world and I wanted him to have some loving and domestic fluff. The idea that these two have secret signals is an important headcannon to me, and I would love to see others take on it.

I hope @henderdads you enjoyed this if you made it this far. It was a lot of fun to write. :)

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Prompt wise, how about 10 with the brothers. Like how would they react to an MC that won’t stop stealing there clothes?

I ended up turning these into little scenarios instead of just hcs, hope you don't mind :)

As I'm sure you all know by now, I'll happily add more parts if requested, but I wanted to get this out

Happy reading :D

Lucifer

'Beg pardon, my love, but why are you wearing my shirt?'

He'd caught MC, yet again, on their way about the house, having managed to style themselves into one of his button-ups. Said button up was the latest victim of the human's thievery.

The human beamed "innocently" with hands clasped sweetly, the fabric sitting comfortably against their skin. He doesn't mind that they wear his clothes anymore, the inconvenience of missing a few shirts is worth the boost to his pride whenever his human parades around in his things.

Still, he feels the need to loom over them, catching their chin between his fingers, running his gloved thumb over the fullness of their lower lip.

He revelled in the way their eyes fluttered to his lips, the spark of want that came to life in their eyes had his mind wandering...elsewhere.

'Stop stealing my clothes, my little trouble maker.'

MC nipped playfully at his thumb, letting him feel the warmth of their breath through his glove. 'No. They smell like you! Besides, you love watching me march around in your things, you possessive menace.'

Lucifer chuckled, stealing a kiss from those eager lips. 'You're lucky I love you.'

Mammon

'Yo! Human, the heck d'ya think ye're doin'?!'

MC spun to find him bright red, sputtering, but with eyes trapped entirely on their form, clad in his favourite jacket.

His tongue felt like led, unable to form words, no matter how many times MC does this, he can't help but short circuit every time they do.

He's the Avatar of Greed, he does not usually tolerate being stolen from, but this...they're adorable, perfect, gorgeous, and he suddenly couldn't care less about the designer jacket he paid a small fortune for. The biggest treasure is the human parading around in it.

'I was cold!'

'Ye're sittin' in a nest o' blankets!'

MC grinned, and Mammon knows he's doomed. That look spells disaster for his heart, especially when paired with those glistening eyes.

'They don't smell like you.'

The pout, the tone...he's wrecked. Dropping to his knees and hiding his face in their shoulder, clinging to his own jacket on their body as he greedily sought out the combined scents.

The smell of his cologne, and the smell of them, mixing together to his own senses, it made a part of him purr in delight.

'Ya gotta stop stealin' my clothes.' He grumbled falsely, jealously pawing at the material that dared be closer to them than he was.

'How 'bout no?'

Leviathan

He stopped...just...stopped.

MC sits like a proud cat on the bean bag they brought into his room, wrapped in his jacket and munching on their favourite snack with cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.

The cuteness made his heart feel three sizes too big for his chest, words stalled in his throat and he almost dropped his manga.

MC shuffled down into the seat, snuggling in as they giggled at his expression. 'You good, hun?'

'Tghh, uh...y-yeah!' He squeaked, shoving the door shut behind him.

'C'mere, I finally got through that last section on the game, was waiting for you to get here to move on.'

No, they don't get to be this cute, there's no way! No one could even write a protagonist this cute in any anime or series, they're too perfect, too wonderful, too much too much!

'Hey...you okay?'

They're looking at him now, frowning, worried, still wearing his jacket. He wants to be wrapped around them like that, wants to be that close.

Whether or not that human can read minds, he'll never know, all he knows is their warmth, cuddling close to him suddenly, throwing his arm over their shoulders and settling at his side.

That warmth seeped into him, chasing off the cold grip of envy. He could want for nothing, if they're wrapped up warm in him.

'Y-you...please don't stop stealing my clothes.'

MC giggled, reaching to peck his cheek. 'Never in a million years.'

Part 2 Here

[thatbadadvice]

Help! My Mother-In-Law Buys A New Outfit Every Time She Pours Jet Fuel on Chilean Sea Bass and Throws Their Carcasses, Flaming, Into the Rainforests from the Open Belly of Her Private Plane

Care and Feeding, Slate, 1 May 2023:

Dear Care and Feeding, My husband and I have two children (2 years and 6 months). We recently moved back to my husband’s hometown to pursue a career opportunity for me. My husband has been home with the kids but was just offered a job. We found a daycare, but it can only take the kids three days a week right now (we’re on waitlists for full-time, but it seems like it could be months or more before we find two full-time spots). My mother-in-law has generously offered to watch the kids for the other two days. Overall, she is a lovely, responsible woman, but we have some significant value differences around environmental issues and I’m not sure how to navigate them. Our household focuses heavily on environmental awareness. We drive electric cars, we compost, we limit our air conditioning, we limit our flying, we eat all leftovers, we avoid plastics whenever possible, and we buy exclusively secondhand clothing. My mother-in-law is a big fan of consumption. Her house is full of plastics. She throws away whatever is left on her plate at the end of a meal, she keeps her house so cold in the summer that I need a sweater and she drives a minivan. I’m concerned about the message it sends to the kids if we stick to our values, except when to do so would be inconvenient. How do I bridge our two very different lifestyles going forward? —Environmentalist Mama in Limbo

Dear Environmentalist Mama,

I'm not sure how you can describe a person who air-conditions her home and drives a minivan as "lovely" and "responsible" but I will assume that this planet-hating harpy has gripped you so tightly in her environmentally irresponsible talons that you cannot see the wildfire-ridden forest for the trees (which she is personally cutting down for fun and profit). Do not let yourself be hoodwinked by promises of familial love and generous offers of free child care, as if these things matter more than assiduously composting! This woman is a monster who is single-handedly destroying the only earth your precious babies have to live on. Imagine the tragedies that will unfold if your children experience a loving connection with a person who purchases items made of plastic? They could come to believe that other humans are whole people with their own interior lives and decision-making apparatuses and values instead of ugly nasty baddies who dare to oppose Mommy's One True And Only Way?

You simply cannot bridge two lifestyles as different as the two you describe here. On the one hand, we have your blameless and perfect eco-conscious little household of brave, Dumpster-diving Oliver Twists, and on the other hand, we have an ethically compromised, unscrupulous, indefensibly ignorant shitbird who probably barbecues her factory-farmed meats over asbestos tiles and flies to Australia to distribute the ashes over the Great Barrier Reef. If Planet Earth does not spin out into an apocalyptic ball of climate disaster by the time your children are old enough to be knifing their peers over tire fires for their share of rat rations, it will be because your uniquely virtuous family had the moral fortitude to drive an electric car and limit your flying. After all, electricity comes from magical climate-neutral fairies and the jet fuel industry is waiting with bated breath for the day that you ground your family and send an international behemoth into wholesale free-fall.

If there is one guaranteed way forward through the climate crisis, it is to silo ourselves into individual categories of "good people" who use paper straws (like you! you are so good!) and "amoral reprobates" (such as your mother-in-law, who sucks!) who do not. The very future of humanity depends on demonizing and shaming other people until they behave as we want them to, privileging individual actions over collective resistance to and accountability for the worst global offenders, and rejecting community-building opportunities in favor of being the only best good person ever.

Build no bridge with this woman! She would probably just drive over it with her minivan, and then the blood of billions will be on your hands.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale’s Top Ten: Worst Akuma to deal with in real life.

Rules:

1. This is solely based on how difficult life would be if the akuma was active. (Rules being in the city in which the akuma is active)

2. Their effectiveness of getting the Miraculous is not a factor, but their ulterior motives and abilities are. (Basically I’m not going to be the Focus of their goal in most cases)

3.And when I say deal with, it’s being a normal person having to cope with the akuma present.

4. I will be rating them at their absolute worst/most powerful. As to get the most accurate rating

5. This is a personal list, but trust me I have given it some thought.

6. No sentimonsters, so Strikeback isn’t making the list

7. Tv episodes, Specials and movie only.

10. Robostus

Robostus is an akuma that’s slept on. Whether he is taking over all technology to make a giant mech, or hypnotizing people with screens he is a threat. And as a guy that works with technology, I’m in danger. Though in most cases it’s a direct inconvenience at best or I get put in tech storage at best.

9. Simpleman

An akuma that can impact the intellect of EVERYONE IN PARIS. That’s terrifying. And we saw first hand how his simple antics made everyone as smart as Cosmo from fairy odd parents.

My intellect would drop dramatically and I would probably die from being that stupid.

8. Queen Wasp/Miracle Queen

Honestly they are basically the same akuma with slightly different powers but the same method of control. My main gripe is being completely frozen by the venom which is just the worst feeling. Would I be made aware? Comotose? Plus I REALLY hate bees/wasps because of childhood stings. So no thank you. But it’s this low because it is still somehow avoidable.

7. Zombizou

My fear of intimacy aside, this is somehow worse because it spreads like a plague AND, imagine the allegations that would spawn from this. No thank you. That’s a hell no from me dawg.

It’s only this low because as long as I’m not stupid I can avoid it.

6. YanluoShi

Basically the stand in for all Giant akuma. The difference is his death laser kills and He was DECIMATING shanghai. All the other giant akuma were threats but Yanluoshi was just a bit more dangerous. And without heroes, shanghai would be SOL.

The Shanghai special really did have a heck of an akuma threat.

5. Akumatized Hawkmoth

For those who haven’t seen the movie. Hawkmoth akumatizes his own heart and basically gives himself even more power.

He had telekineses and was flinging rubble everywhere, he turned the water in La seine into lava by FLOATING OVER IT. He was creating storms just by existing.He decimated Paris, and civilians were in serious danger.

The only reason he is so low is because he was so focused on ladybug and chat noir and despite the damage to Paris, no one was seriously hurt (except ladybug and chat noir)

4. Syren

She Flooded Paris in minutes. It’s implied a LOT of people got caught in it. Like seriously. I can swim but even I don’t know how well I could handle a suddenly flooded city. At least with the previous entry there were more clear chances of survival. The next entrees have very little survival chances for me

3. Stormy weather

She can make Volcanic eruptions. Category 5 hurricanes. Stormy weather’s powers are easily one of the most dangerous in the series. If she was allowed to go all out, I would put her on Akumatized Hawkmoth in terms of raw power. Now we never see the full extent of it, but she can Manipulate the earth by creating natural disasters. She likely would have wiped Paris off the map if she got her way. So that’s why she’s here.

2. Bubbler

I know you all might think this is a joke, but I’m dead serious. The bubbler is probably the most dangerous direct threat. You know what his goal was? No more adults. Guess what, I’m an adult! And you know what else. He sent EVERY ADULT in a bubble to FLOAT IN SPACE. In the manga Tikki even points out that they would DIE up there. Bubbler combining my two greatest fears. Heights and tight spaces. Plus either I die of suffocation or the bubble pops and my body implodes from space. Or worse, I fall to my death at terminal velocity. My only hope is I can pop the bubble BEFORE then.

1. Chat blanc

You know what your chances of surviving chat blanc are? Zero. He blew up the moon and killed everyone. Either from the result of the moon being destroyed or his power Cataclysming everyone.

He was Alone, this implies everyone else is dead. Not even the heroes on the other side of the world could do ANYTHING!

Survival chance with the other entries was varied. But chat blanc the answer is 0.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

please support this blog

🦇 Fall For Him Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

❓ #QOTD What's your favorite rom-com (film or book)? ❓ 🦇 Falling through his hot neighbor's ceiling and landing directly into his bed probably wouldn't make Derek Chang hate Dylan Gallagher any less, especially with a poorly timed "It's Raining Men" joke. Though Dylan focuses all his ADHD hyper-fixation energy on getting the repair job done as quickly as possible—avoiding doing anything stupid like acting on his very inconvenient crush—Derek tries to ignore that the tattooed nerd sleeping on the couch is surprisingly witty, smart, and kind, despite the long-term grudge Derek’s been holding against him. But will squeezing all their emotional baggage plus a dog into a tiny one-bedroom apartment be a major disaster…or just prove they’re made for each other? Fall for Him combines banter, hijinks, and heart in a story of finding out what it means to fix things after your life crumbles.

💜 I was fortunate enough to read Andie Burke's debut (and this story's predecessor), Fly With Me, last year, but I didn't expect THIS. Fall For Him is so much more than an enemies-to-lovers, forced-proximity, gay rom-com continuation. There's no list of tropes that can contain the banter, hijinks, mental health rep, and heart within this story. There's so much grief, healing, and love within this story, matched by wit, banter, and fun, descriptive prose. All of it grabs and holds readers with the same beautiful intensity of an old-school rom-com. Andie Burke's writing has truly BLOSSOMED between Fly With Me and Fall For Him; a feat I'm always glad to see a year after discovering a debut author.

💜 Since I can't contain it all in a concise little paragraph, here's What I Loved: ✨ The mental health rep (including the misconception that someone is rude or antisocial or weird when really they're trying to manage a condition). ✨ Derek's outrage on Dylan's behalf, then fiercely standing up against Dylan's family. ✨ The. Bat. Man. ✨ Felicity, my quippy, hilarious, bisexual babe, and her Depraved Shenanigans. ✨ Jodi, just entirely, my demisexual, forest nymph queen. Andie Burke. Please. Please tell me the next book is Jodi & Felicity (my two emotional support gingers). PLEASE. ✨ All the home reno/construction puns. ✨ All the nerd references (the crack in Amy Pond's wall!) ✨ Every character description. Seriously. ESPECIALLY the boys describing each other pre-kiss. And after kiss. ✨ All the quippy, silly banter. ✨ Light blue scrubs. ✨ "Stupid, lovesick, radiant joy." / "Kay." ✨ The older sibling protective/fix-it mentality. ✨ Loving broken things.

💙 By now, you know miscommunication and third-act breakups are among my least favorite story elements. However, this story STARTS with miscommunication; one moment seen from different perspectives that's therefore misconstrued. After realizing that, Derek actively tries to keep that miscommunication from breaking them. He's one of the first MCs I've seen that tries to avoid a third-act breakup before it happens. I do wish we'd lingered in that moment a little longer, seen it happen differently instead of time-jumping to a week later, but it doesn't shatter the story the way third-act breakups often do. I will say I did cry at the end of this one, so the conclusion amplifies emotions in a way that works.

🦇 Recommended for fans of Red, White, & Royal Blue or Boyfriend Material.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🔨 Mental Health/ADHD Rep 🫀 Contemporary Rom-Com 🖱 Enemies to Lovers 🩺 Forced Proximity ❤‍🩹 Grief Rep/Healing 🐕 Animal Companion 🧠 2nd in a Duology 💙 Dual POV

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book. #FallForHim

💬 Quotes ❝ I love that English uses the word falling to describe the initial rush of love, capturing the stomach-sinking danger of opening your heart over a chasm of what if. That anyone could love all those deep-inside, messy, jagged bits we try to hide from even ourselves feels like the greatest impossibility. But after all, it’s the impact with the ground that hurts, not the fall, so I guess that’s why the best partners are the ones who cushion us. ❞ ❝ Much like a home renovation project wherein hidden, expensive disasters are created when you try to fix the cosmetic parts only, sometimes you have to break things down entirely before anything gets repaired. ❞ ❝ I wrote it at a time when I needed a reminder that people who feel like their bodies and minds and souls are being held together by caffeine and off-brand Scotch tape deserve to find and can find their person. Because when the ground beneath our feet is crumbling in every possible sense, sometimes we don’t just need a safe place to land. We need a safe place to fall. ❞ ❝ Breaking something sometimes doesn’t mean you’re broken. ❞ ❝ Awkward social interactions created small fractures in his mental armor. Every crack allowed old insecurities to slide right back into his brain. ❞ ❝ That smile did things to Derek. Things he’d rather not admit. ❞ ❝ “I looked for you when I woke up.” ❞ ❝ In his personal experience, every time he invited someone into knowing about his sexual identity, it felt like a small test with big stakes. It was like whispering Are you going to be comfortable with my existence? into a void and just hoping what came out didn’t attack you. ❞ ❝ You deserve stupid, lovesick, radiant joy. ❞ ❝ “I think Felicity wakes up each day and chooses violence.” “You’re not wrong.” ❞ ❝ “Do not ever let someone make you feel that small again. Because you, Dylan Gallagher, are not fucking small.” ❞ ❝ Because if he broke down, how could he still be the one who fixed things? ❞

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 2

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

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

“Enough already,” Wen Ruohan groaned, and ignored with a twinge of irritation how Qing Yu, the man reporting to him, stiffened and looked pale as if he were convinced that he would imminently be dragged off to the Fire Palace.

As if Wen Ruohan would murder one of the top spies in his network simply because he was being boring.

He wasn’t actually insane, thank you, or at least not to that degree.

Appearing to be wildly unpredictable was often a tremendous advantage in dealing with his fellow sects, and even sometimes within his own sect, but genuine instability would be a disaster. Wen Ruohan’s sect was the most powerful by far of all the Great Sects, and he intended to keep it that way – or rather, he intended his power to grow until his Wen sect was as indominable as the sun in the sky and the other so-called “Great Sects” were mere shadows left in his wake.

Which was why he was torturing himself listening to spy reports on the other Great Sects to begin with, Wen Ruohan supposed, and suppressed a sigh. It was the sort of work that he couldn’t entrust to some subordinate, the whole business confidential in the extreme no matter what the content – the mere confirmation that he had spies in the other Great Sects, and that they were successfully obtaining information for him from them, was potentially explosive. But at the same time, the vast majority of the time the information he received was completely lacking in anything usable. Or even mildly interesting!

“I’m not interested in yet another rehashing of the Jiang sect’s internal issues,” he said, because he wasn’t. While it was true that Jiang Fengmian’s marriage troubles were potentially useful as a weak point, ripe for potential exploitation, they were not exactly new. “Tell me something more exciting.”

Qing Yu looked surprised by the question. “More – exciting, Sect Leader?”

Wen Ruohan groped around mentally for a moment for an example, having grown so bored that he couldn’t think of anything at first, and then smirked faintly as something came to him. “Yes. Tell me who’s going to be attending Lan Qiren’s classes this year.”

Now that would at least be interesting.

Wen Ruohan had never paid very much attention to Lan Qiren. Sure, as acting sect leader of the Lan, he headed one of the other main Great Sects and was therefore one of the targets of Wen Ruohan’s illicit information gathering, but the impression Wen Ruohan had gotten from their few interactions at discussion conferences accorded with the information his spies regularly reported concerning his activities at home: Lan Qiren was an unbearably dull human being.

In almost – and that was the critical word, almost – every respect.

Lan Qiren’s interests, insofar as he took time from his sect duties to indulge in them, appeared to be traditional to the point of cliché, consisting of music and study, both philosophy and the analysis of those ridiculous Lan sect rules. He had no notable romantic entanglements to his name, which was the usual way the Lan sect added interest to their lives, though Wen Ruohan supposed in fairness he wouldn’t have had much opportunity for it, having been entrusted with the responsibility of raising his two nephews and by all reports having characteristically taken it overly seriously. In fact, Lan Qiren barely seemed to have any friends, even within his own sect – a cousin or two he spoke to more often than others, perhaps, but little more. Probably he thought it was somehow inappropriate for someone in his position. He had a temper, on rare occasions, but often sought to suppress it: the man was really unbearably fussy about his sect’s rules, pretending and possibly even genuinely seeking to be faithful to them at all times. Even the inconvenient ones like Do not tell lies, which was just insane.

In short: a boring rule-bound prig with as much passion to him as a bowl of tepid milk.

In Wen Ruohan’s opinion, the Lan tended to come in two flavors, hideously boring and terrifyingly obsessed. He’d concluded that Lan Qiren was the former about an incense stick into their first discussion conference together, and as a result, he’d barely paid any attention to reports about him ever since.

That was why he’d almost missed it.

Only almost, which was why Wen Ruohan was the closest thing the cultivation world had to a god.

Not only was he older and more powerful than all the other cultivators, he also didn’t let himself get lulled into a false sense of security. He prided himself on being observant and cautious, albeit sometimes to the point that others called him paranoid. He kept track of everything that might at some point become a threat to his ambitions for the Wen sect. And even then, it had been years before he’d noticed what Lan Qiren was getting up to with that immensely clever little lecture series of his!

That was the “almost” of Lan Qiren, the exception to the rule of how dull he was.

Somehow, Lan Qiren had managed to convince other sects to send him their children to teach.

He’d offered up the Lan sect’s infamously rigid but spectacular education to sects who were nowhere near as well-equipped, and they’d started sending their children to him in droves, particularly once he got a reputation for being able to improve the unruliest of children. It was a little unusual for any sect to make such an offer or for other sects to accept it, given that most sects tended to be possessive and insular, but ultimately it was easy enough to disregard as little more than an extension of the Lan sect’s overweening pride in their scholarly prowess…and by easy to disregard, Wen Ruohan meant easy to overlook.

And overlook it he had: it wasn’t until a small and especially timid sect under Wen Ruohan’s own command had been paranoid enough to see fit to let him know that they were planning to send their own child there, just in case he might have some problem with it – the Pingliang Tang sect leader probably didn’t piss without confirming that it wouldn’t annoy Wen Ruohan – that Wen Ruohan had even realized the potential implications of what Lan Qiren was doing.

A teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime, the saying went, and by the time Wen Ruohan realized what was happening, Lan Qiren, inadvertent father to only nephews, had already seeded the entire cultivation world with students that had recognized him as their teacher. Younger sons, cousins, or branch family members – it might all seem like a lot of nothing, but if one mapped out where they were all from, it was immediately obvious that in another ten or twenty years, Lan Qiren would be able to call upon a vast network of connections, each one bound by their code of honor and cultivation orthodoxy to treat him with respect.

Each one of whom could, without effort, become the perfect spy that no one would ever suspect. Or even more than a spy – even an outright supporter, swaying their sect to follow Lan Qiren’s lead!

No one else had figured it out yet, much to Wen Ruohan’s amusement, not even the year before last when Lan Qiren had finagled Nie Mingjue to be one of his students, presumably trading on his friendship with the current Sect Leader Nie. The Nie sect’s very own sect heir, a Great Sect! That must have been a real coup for Lan Qiren. Not only had it made Lan Qiren’s classes fashionable, a mark of pride for parents who sent their children to them to brag about to each other, it meant that more and more sects were now willing to send their own sect heirs to him, giving him the chance to mold their young, impressionable minds into whatever shape he wished.

Sect heirs! Voluntarily bowing to someone in another sect! To the leader of another sect!

The mere idea of it was enough to make a prospective empire-builder like Wen Ruohan seethe with frustration and envy. No one would ever voluntarily entrust their children to him. If he wanted them, he’d have to force their parents to send them, resistant and rebellious, and it’d have to be outright indoctrination rather than teaching. Far less effective than Lan Qiren’s method.

It was all a stroke of genius, really.

A pity that Lan Qiren had almost certainly done it entirely by accident.

Really, it was almost appalling. How could someone so reserved and, well, boring as the acting head of the Lan sect, with his dull monotone voice and his tendency to talk at great length about exceedingly boring minutiae, have stumbled into such a clever scheme? It required an almost impossible mix of contrary and conflicting elements: the Lan sect’s brilliant reputation for morality and Lan Qiren’s own impeccable (if, again, incredibly boring) reputation as a stern moralist so rigid that suspecting him was essentially pointless, yes, but also persuasion skills sufficient to convince other sects to hand over their precious children, teaching skills sufficient to actually improve those children (presumably all the most troublesome ones their clans had produced, to boot) to such a degree that their parents noticed and appreciated it, sufficient dedication and patience to continue in such unfulfilling work for years and years while knowing that the harvest would not come for decades…

After he’d figured out what Lan Qiren was up to, Wen Ruohan had briefly wondered whether he’d misread the man’s personality. Maybe Lan Qiren was in fact hiding himself in plain sight, a snake in the grass, with all that dull long-windedness actually a deliberate persona designed to divert the attention away from what he was doing. Certainly some of those stupid little exceedingly boring bits of minutiae that he raised during the discussion conferences had ultimately turned out after several years to actually be quite beneficial to the Lan sect…

Unfortunately, that theory had only lasted until the next discussion conference. Lan Qiren was no schemer, Wen Ruohan would bet everything he knew about people on it.

So…fortuitous accident it must be.

It really was a pity. Wen Ruohan hadn’t needed to actually think about any of his fellow sect leaders in ages, most of them being exceptionally predictable, and one really did see it all after a certain point. It would have been rather fun to have a little mystery to slowly unravel, tugging lightly at each thread until he found the loose one that would undo the entire knot.

“Well?” he drawled, suddenly realizing that Qing Yu hadn’t actually answered his question, but had started hemming and hawing in an incredibly irritating sort of fashion instead. “Did you not obtain that information? If so, you’re far better off simply admitting to your failure up front, rather than making me wait…”

“Sect Leader, no!” Qing Yu cried out, his eyes going wide and a little white around the edges, spooked like a nervy overbred stallion. “The information was sought, of course, I would never fail the Sect Leader by letting down his expectations. But there simply wasn’t any to be obtained! As far as we can tell, there haven’t been any invitations sent out at all.”

Wen Ruohan frowned. “No invitations? Why not?”

The weather had already started to turn from winter back into spring. Whatever his other faults, Lan Qiren was invariably meticulous. In previous years, he had always settled all the details of who would be attending later that summer well before the first flowers bloomed, leaving him the entire spring to develop and revise his teaching plans.

A deviation from the norm was invariably worth paying attention to.

Qing Yu looked uncomfortable. “Sect Leader,” he said, “it is my belief that – ah – well, I think it is likely that there aren’t going to be any classes this year at all.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyebrows shot up.

“You may recall,” his spy said delicately, clearly reluctant to remind him lest Wen Ruohan take insult at the suggestion that he’d forgotten something, “the information I passed to you two months ago, about the change in power at the Lan sect…?”

“Yes, yes, Qingheng-jun coming back out of his wretched seclusion, I recall.”

Wen Ruohan hadn’t liked that news one bit. He had never been particularly impressed with the man – his memory of Qingheng-jun was a little less complimentary than that of many of his colleagues – but even he had to admit that Qingheng-jun had always been a talented cultivator.

Before he’d gone away into seclusion, Qingheng-jun had had a great deal of promise as a force to be reckoned with. With his good looks and aloof charms, not to mention his rapidly growing power, he had easily taken and maintained the top place on the cultivation world’s lists of most eligible and well-respected young masters. It was well known that the Lan sect treated him as their precious treasure and saw him as the future of their sect, and even outside his sect he’d been widely regarded as an especially promising young talent. For those like Wen Ruohan who thought of growing their own sect’s power, he had always been regarded as a potential threat.

Admittedly, Wen Ruohan hadn’t thought much of Qingheng-jun’s political sense during those brief few years that he had been in charge of the Lan sect, even accounting for the fact that he was a Lan, who were uniformly not especially good at such things. Rather, he had concluded that Qingheng-jun was at that time a little too arrogant given what he had to back it up – unlike Wen Ruohan himself, who was overweeningly arrogant but who had the personal and political power to justify it – and the years since had largely made him think that the Lan sect had probably traded up when they’d substituted Lan Qiren in instead. Lan Qiren might be boring, but he wasn’t reckless or overweening, and that counted for a surprisingly great deal when it came to politics.

Still, ten years of secluded cultivation wasn’t anything to sneer at, least of all from a man who’d already been a promising talent. As soon as he’d heard of the Qingheng-jun’s reemergence into the world, Wen Ruohan had sent his spies in the Lan sect to check that the other man hadn’t become too powerful, at least in comparison to himself. Upon being reassured that he hadn’t, he’d immediately stopped caring.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, frowning. “If Lan Qiren is no longer serving as acting sect leader, doesn’t that give him more time to devote to his little teaching experiment…? Or has he decided to pack up his guqin and take to the road as a wandering cultivator?”

The idea was a little ridiculous, though not actually out of the question. It was extremely common for young masters to set out on such a journey upon reaching adulthood, hoping to improve their cultivation and win fame and glory, and Lan Qiren was after all still in his twenties, or at minimum early thirties, even if he behaved so much like an old fogey that it was easy to forget it. Wen Ruohan had always instinctively classed him as the same age as his peers among the other Great Sects, but in actual fact Lan Qiren was younger than Jiang Fengmian, otherwise the youngest, by at least seven or eight years.

It was plausible, anyway. Still, Wen Ruohan couldn’t see it. Maybe after a year or two, once Qingheng-jun was firmly settled back into his new position as sect leader, but surely Qingheng-jun wouldn’t so readily give up the invaluable resource that was his younger brother’s ten years of experience…?

“No, Sect Leader, nothing like that,” Qing Yu said respectfully. “My sources in the Lan sect report that Second Master Lan has entered seclusion.”

Wen Ruohan blinked.

“No, that’s wrong,” he said, genuinely startled out of his usual apathy for the first time in – years. “Lan Qiren would never enter seclusion.”

That was something he was quite certain of.

Wen Ruohan might have been taken by surprise by the unexpected inventiveness of that teaching idea, but as a general matter, he still had eyes that he knew how to use. Lan Qiren had never once gone into secluded training in the entire ten years since his brother’s retreat from the world, not even temporarily, not even when the opportunity to utilize the most desirable spots for cultivation was offered for his use during the discussion conferences, as it was on occasion. Further, Lan Qiren hadn’t managed to completely eradicate his tendency to grimace whenever someone even mentioned seclusion, though over the years he’d gotten a little better at suppressing it.

In short, it was quite obvious that he regarded seclusion with the same suspicion as a man who had once bitten into a sour lemon thinking it was candy might regard all fruit.

It was quite a reasonable distaste, given what had happened with his elder brother’s own strict seclusion and the impact it had had on his own life. But that just made it all more unlikely that Lan Qiren had suddenly chosen to give up his beloved classes in favor of a lengthy seclusion. If he had, then Wen Ruohan had wholly misjudged him, and that was a far more serious matter than whatever the man was actually doing.

“The Sect Leader is wise and insightful, with unsurpassed judgment,” Qing Yu said, slavishly complimentary as ever. “Although I only have some whispers to rely upon, it is my understanding that the seclusion is not wholly voluntary on Second Master Lan’s part, but rather undertaken as some sort of penance.”

“Penance,” Wen Ruohan said, now even more bemused. “Lan Qiren.”

The Lan sect was inordinately fond of making all sorts of ridiculous rules, and of punishing themselves for breaking those rules, but – Lan Qiren?

Wen Ruohan was usually the first to believe in his fellow man’s capacity for treachery, which was not to be underestimated, but…still. Lan Qiren? He couldn’t see Lan Qiren having committed any sort of serious offense, let alone one that was sufficiently grievous to justify him being confined against his will. The man had once looked appalled and outraged when Jin Guangshan had casually suggested he wear something that would break a Lan sect rule against waist ornaments. How serious an infraction could he have possibly committed?

“What else do you know about it? I’ll accept rumor if you don’t have anything concrete,” he asked, finding to his amusement that he was fishing for gossip like some sort of fishmonger’s wife. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an exciting series of updates. Not even Qingheng-jun’s unexpected reemergence into the cultivation world had moved him this much.

“Rumor has it that it may have something to do with his brother, the now restored Sect Leader Lan,” Qing Yu reported. “There are those in the Cloud Recesses that say that they quarreled – even that they’ve grown to despise each other.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows and steepled his fingers together in front of his mouth.

Now that was news.

Rumor or no rumor, he’d never heard so much of a hint of it before. Lan Qiren had never said a bad word about his brother within Wen Ruohan’s presence, and the reports his spies had delivered to him indicated that he always dutifully reported to his brother’s door once every five days without fail, to update him about the events happening in the Lan sect. There had never been any hint of trouble there, and the vanishingly rare orders Qingheng-jun had issued from his seclusion, all in writing, had been implemented without the slightest hesitation. Wen Ruohan had never bothered looking into Lan Qiren’s history with his sect, assuming it to be every bit as dull as his present day, but perhaps that had been an oversight, if there was something like this lurking in there.

It seemed that Lan Qiren might have hidden depths after all.

Interesting indeed.

Though…perhaps what was most interesting was instead Wen Ruohan’s own reaction to the news.

Reflecting on the thoughts he’d just had, it was notable that he’d fixated on the part of the rumor focusing on Lan Qiren, rather than his brother. Under normal circumstances, Wen Ruohan really ought to have immediately assumed that the rumor was half-true and half-false, that the hatred was one-sided, that it was only Qingheng-jun who had a problem with Lan Qiren. It’d hardly be surprising if that were the case, really. The man had been in seclusion for ten years; it’d be strange if his mind wasn’t a little twisted after that, and of course any paranoid mind would suspect the person who’d sat in his seat for those ten long years of malicious motives, no matter how superficially innocent and loyal Lan Qiren might seem.

That was by far the more logical conclusion, and yet Wen Ruohan hadn’t gone there.

Instead, he’d immediately accepted what was, after all, only a rumor, and taken it as a complete truth. Was it simply that he was taken by the unlikely notion that Lan Qiren hated his brother in return?

It just seemed so…unlike the man.

Wen Ruohan had never seen a version of Lan Qiren that hated before.

The rare times the man had succumbed to his temper had already been interesting enough, and those instances had involved little more than distaste. How would genuine hatred look on him? Wen Ruohan found himself rather curious.

A thought then occurred to him.

“What about the two boys?” he asked. “Lan Qiren’s nephews. Isn’t he raising them? How could he go into seclusion and leave a duty like that unattended?”

“Yes, Sect Leader, your memory is correct, he was previously involved in the heirs’ upbringing. I believe that Sect Leader Lan has now resumed supervision over their education, as is his right as their father.”

“Father,” Wen Ruohan snorted. “Father indeed. If I recall correctly, Lan Qiren was serving as father and mother both to those children, what with the two of them in seclusion the way they were. Are you saying he’s no longer involved in raising the children? At all?”

“No, Sect Leader.”

Cutting off Lan Qiren’s access to his beloved nephews might be enough to make him hate someone, Wen Ruohan supposed, finding himself unexpectedly appalled by the news. It seemed like a terribly stupid thing to do, and he hadn���t thought that Qingheng-jun was that stupid.

Even if you were jealous of your brother who had (however unwillingly) usurped your authority in your absence, whether as sect leader or as father, even if you longed to have your children back at your side with their attention paid to you rather than to him, to tear apart a close family relationship like that was really a step too far. Even Wen Ruohan wouldn’t do such a thing lightly. He might be power-hungry and cruel, bloodthirsty and sadistic, he could admit all of that, but even he understood the foremost importance of family.

Even if he didn’t, Wen Ruohan wasn’t an idiot: to put a mere brotherly rivalry above sect unity and create internal strife before you had firmly gripped the reins of power once more was stupid to the extreme. Lan Qiren hadn’t been the most popular leader, but he’d still been leader for ten years, and people were creatures of habit – to immediately imprison him in seclusion would be seen as inauspicious, a bad omen. What ambitious man voluntarily brought a cloud like that upon himself when it was infinitely easier to avoid it by doing nothing?

Not to mention the impact on the children themselves! That alone would have been enough to stay Wen Ruohan’s own hand in such circumstances.

Oh, other men might believe that children of nine and six were too young to really remember much, but Wen Ruohan knew better. Take himself as an example: he was the cultivation world’s most ancient monster, having lived for a century or more, and by now the details of many of his older memories had begun to slip through his fingers like grains of sand, faces blurring and details forgotten…but the traumatic events of his own childhood were still shockingly easy to recall.

He’d been, what, six, seven years old when the Lan sect’s last war had started? Eight, perhaps? Certainly no more than that. But Wen Ruohan could still remember those days, when the smell of blood had sunk so deeply into him that he thought it had never really left him since. He could still recall with ease memories of walking through battlefields full of his slaughtered kin, his feet bleeding, his skin burning from the harsh glare of the sun, each and every one of his senses full of the stink of the humid forest, the filth and dirt of the earth. He could still recall how the faces of the Wen sect’s dead were twisted in agony and fear, filled with resentment, but those of the Lan bloodline were quiet and peaceful, as if they had been lulled to sleep with a lullaby…and they had been, an immensely poisonous one, their own sect leader having poured it into their ears long before the battle began to give them the strength of madmen, and the deaths of madmen, too.

Terrifying. Wen Ruohan had never really trusted a Lan since that day.

Wen Ruohan could recall the other lessons he’d learned back then, too. That bitter and bloody war had been the first time his brothers had betrayed him. It had been the first time he had realized that he could rely only upon himself in this world, himself and those who were so deeply dependent upon him that they could see no difference between his interests and theirs. He had grown cold and closed off and self-interested, rejecting all connections other than the ones he himself chose. It hadn’t been until years later, when he himself had inadvertently betrayed his own favorite younger brother, that he’d realized the perils of the path he had set himself on back then, and by then of course it was too late to regret…

Not that Wen Ruohan really regretted having had the last laugh, of course. After all, was he not here, still firmly seated upon the seat of the Wen sect leader a century later, and all those who had once betrayed him now dead and gone, forgotten by all but him?

Surely that must mean that everything had worked out for him, with no room for regret.

Still, the fact remained that the scars of childhood were oftentimes the most lasting, with Wen Ruohan’s own lingering wariness of the seemingly placid Lan sect itself something that could be seen as evidence of that. So if Qingheng-jun intended to use involuntary seclusion as a means to separate Lan Qiren from his sons and return their loyalties to himself, he was making a terrible mistake.

It wasn’t that the goal itself was so bad, really – Wen Ruohan might not be overly attached to his own sons, but he would swiftly murder anyone who tried to take his place with them – but rather the method.

The right way to do it would have been for Qingheng-jun to take advantage of his lengthy absence to re-introduce himself to his sons in a way that would let him sweep them off their feet. It wouldn’t even have been that hard! It wasn’t as if Qingheng-jun were without his good points. He had a reputation as an exceptional swordsman and an outstanding cultivator, of being polished and charming, and of course he was handsome in the way all the Lan main bloodline were, and being handsome was always an advantage.

They were only children. With just a little effort, he could very easily have overwhelmed them.

He could have filled the boys’ eyes with him until they couldn’t see anything else. He could have set himself out as something new and exciting and different, made himself all honey in comparison to their uncle’s strict discipline. Then, once he’d won their trust, it would have been easy enough to drip poison into their ears, easy enough to breed distrust and disdain and dislike of the uncle who had once raised them with love. They were only children. It wouldn’t have been hard at all to lead them by the nose until they’d turned away from Lan Qiren, thinking the entire time that they were acting through their own free will. It would take years for them to uncover the deceit, and by then it would be too late to regret.

Far too late.

In his time, Wen Ruohan had enacted similar plots before on people who weren’t even related to him. To do it to children of his own family would have been as easy as flipping over his hand.

But…this? This way? A forced rupture, a cruelly imposed separation?

It would do nothing but harden everyone’s feelings, solidify their positions. It would brand the boys’ love for Lan Qiren into their heads forever. Even if they never saw him again, they would forever remember the uncle that had faithfully cared for them in their youth, and they would resent their father for having so cruelly taken him away from them. Such a resentment might take years to ferment and grow, and it might never come to anything in the end, but at a minimum there was no way that such a move would aid Qingheng-jun in winning his sons over to his side rather than his brother’s.

It was stupid. Absolutely, colossally stupid.

…too stupid, perhaps?

Wen Ruohan was aware that his peers often jeered at him for being unduly paranoid, but he credited his suspicious instincts at least in part for his success in living as long as he had. Could there be something more to Qingheng-jun’s actions than what appeared on the surface? Or was it really just that seclusion had rotted away his brain?

Qing Yu tried to speak further, possibly to change the subject, but Wen Ruohan waved him silent. There was something in that thought, the feeling of having caught the right scent, of tracking down some hidden hint of truth that he needed to follow to its end lest someone manage to get something by him.

Wen Ruohan did not let people get things by him.

So: let him take as his premise that Qingheng-jun was, while not necessarily smart, at a minimum not completely foolish. His behavior towards his brother was not only malicious, but pointless and counterproductive. He had to have realized that what he was doing would only make his sons dislike him more, especially sons that had been up until now raised with Lan Qiren’s rigid adherence to morality, and yet he had decided to proceed regardless. What, then, could be his real goal? Even sadists like Wen Ruohan typically had a reason behind their cruelty…

Unless the cruelty was the point.

Now that was an interesting thought.

Let Wen Ruohan accept as a premise that Qingheng-jun disliked his brother, having formed a grudge against him, presumably for having enjoyed everything that rightfully belonged to him while he hid away from the world. It would be a foolish sort of grudge, of course, given that he’d voluntarily given it all up, but it was the sort of irrational grudge a petty sort of man might nevertheless foster. Then, taking the next step down that path, could he assume that Qingheng-jun was acting first and foremost on account of that grudge, rather than reason?

Could Qingheng-jun really have grown to hate his younger brother to such a degree that he wanted nothing more than for him to suffer, and knew that he would suffer all the more in his seclusion because he knew that his nephews would also be suffering through missing him?

Interesting indeed.

It certainly fit with what he remembered of Qingheng-jun. He’d been short-sighted, which at the time Wen Ruohan had largely ascribed to his youth, and he had been inclined to play favorites, a contrast to Lan Qiren’s scrupulous even-handedness thereafter. He’d been susceptible to flattery in a way that Wen Ruohan had noted down as a potential future weakness to exploit, the same way he did with Jin Guangshan, and he had been dreadfully petty, remembering grudges but never favors. He’d been young back then, yes, but ten years in seclusion would have calcified and enhanced those traits, not reduced or ameliorated them.

So yes, Qingheng-jun might not be stupid enough to behave in a way that was wholly contrary to his goals, but he might be just stupid enough to prioritize his grudge over other considerations. Even Wen Ruohan would make missteps when he allowed self-indulgence to overwhelm his political sense.

It fit – but not quite.

There was still something there that didn’t quite make sense.

Overall, the logic was sound. If the goal of Qingheng-jun’s actions was to punish Lan Qiren for the perceived slight of having been Sect Leader in Qingheng-jun’s absence – even though it was obvious enough to anyone with eyes that Lan Qiren hadn’t especially wanted to do it and would probably have been delighted to be quit of the role if only the person he was returning the position to was worthy of it – then it was quite reasonable to forcefully tear him away from his nephews as a means of hurting him.

(It was even a little exciting, in its own way. Wen Ruohan could quite reasonably claim to be the cultivation world’s most accomplished torturer, though admittedly one that preferred inflicting physical pain rather than emotional agony, and brutality of this level was piquant even to his long-jaded palate.)

On the other hand, there was surely no lasting joy or victory in such a necessarily temporary set-up.

After all, as long as Lan Qiren remained at the Cloud Recesses, his nephews would have access to him. There was no way around it. Even Qingheng-jun’s wife, who had lived in permanent solitude alongside him, had had some connection with the outside world, however limited. No matter how great the hatred between them – and Wen Ruohan had to remind himself that that hatred was just an assumption on his part – even so, Qingheng-jun couldn’t justify locking Lan Qiren away for good.

No, the Lan sect was the Lan sect in the end, with a reputation for righteousness that was not wholly hollow. They might, in their insularity and joy at the return of a much-beloved and much-missed hero, allow a miscarriage of justice, but it wouldn’t last. Qingheng-jun might be the Lan sect’s darling, a treasure that everyone had thought lost for good, and his reputation would undoubtedly only have benefited from never having to be measured against reality, everyone projecting their own prejudices and ambitions upon his blank slate. But in the end it was still the Lan sect, honorable and rule-bound. Even if Qingheng-jun was universally beloved and Lan Qiren not, which Wen Ruohan doubted, it would still be impossible to imprison him forever.

Lan Qiren would eventually go free. And once free, with the trauma of forced separation between them, his nephews would rush back to him and him to them, wouldn’t they? They would only be closer than ever before. All the suffering they had endured would be wholly eclipsed by the greatness of their joy…

That’s what didn’t work.

Wen Ruohan’s assumption, at the moment, was that Qingheng-jun was a cruel man. Wen Ruohan himself was a cruel man, had been a cruel man for years, and moreover he had been in the position of having felt himself deeply and truly wronged before. Like recognized like. No one knew better than he how a man like that thought – the things he might want, the things he might do.

There was no way that a Qingheng-jun who wanted to be rid of his brother would stop at just seclusion.

And in this situation, that meant…

“What are Qingheng-jun’s plans for Lan Qiren?” Wen Ruohan asked abruptly.

Qing Yu jumped a little. He was easily startled, though presumably paranoia and over-caution was a useful trait in a spy. “His plans, Sect Leader?”

“After the seclusion is complete,” he clarified, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m certain he has some. What do the rumors in the Cloud Recesses say?”

“Ah – Sect Leader – this one failed to anticipate your level of interest – I have not heard of Qingheng-jun having any plans for his younger brother at all –”

Of course. Wen Ruohan nodded sagaciously, realizing that he’d raised the question the wrong way around. Someone as vain as he recalled Qingheng-jun being would never allow others to suspect that he was acting purely out of malice, as that might call his reputation as a perfect gentleman into question.

No, whatever he was going to do to Lan Qiren next would have to be appear to be spontaneous.

The key phrase being, appear to be.

“Tell me then of what the rumors are regarding Lan Qiren’s own plans for the future, once his seclusion has ended,” Wen Ruohan requested. It was unlikely that someone as transparently sincere as Lan Qiren actually had any such plans, which meant that any rumors that existed were probably being spurred on by Qingheng-jun instead. It was the sort of thing Wen Ruohan had seen plenty of in the Lan sect when it had been under the former Sect Leader Lan, their father, and that was the environment Qingheng-jun would have grown up in, much more so than Lan Qiren given the difference in their ages. “There must be something that people are saying, never mind their stupid rule against gossip. If someone is saying something, I wish to hear about it. No matter how outlandish.”

“Sect Leader, this humble one apologizes – I have failed to live up to your expectations – I will go out and seek out an answer at once –”

Wen Ruohan probed a few more times in a few more ways, but without success.

After a while, he gave a faint sigh and lifted his hand again to stop Qing Yu’s endless apologies.

“Enough already,” he said. “I understand already, you have nothing more to say. You’re dismissed…ah, as you go, send in Wang Liu, will you?”

He waited until Qing Yu’s dutiful second-in-command had been summoned and Qing Yu was fully gone before speaking again.

“You are in luck,” he told Wang Liu mildly. “You have an opportunity for advancement.”

The man’s eyes widened – in surprise, yes, but Wen Ruohan could see the light of ambition kindling in his gaze as well.

“It seems that your predecessor is a spy for one of the other sects.” Wen Ruohan smiled at Wang Liu’s obvious shock. “No, don’t deny it. I’m certain you had your suspicions and were keeping them to yourself for the moment, looking for a chance to capitalize on them? No proof, I assume?”

Wang Liu jerked his head in a nod, then bowed deeply.

“The Sect Leader’s wisdom greatly exceeds my own,” he said respectfully. “It has been my belief for some time that Master Qing reported first to Lanling Jin before you. Uncovering a spy in a single conversation…! The Sect Leader is far better at judging men than I could ever dream to be! He never slipped up enough around me for me to confirm anything, and he has always been triply cautious when speaking to you.”

Wen Ruohan snorted. “Stop it with the compliments,” he said dryly. “There’s a difference between respect and blatant flattery, and the latter is an insult to my intelligence. There’s news like this out there and he drones on for half a shichen about Yu Ziyuan’s latest fit of jealousy? He’s either incompetent or a traitor, and I forgive neither.”

It wasn’t worth it to force the answer out of Qing Yu directly, though Wen Ruohan had no doubt he could do so. Why bother? There were far more enjoyable ways to go about it – and indeed, a piece of paper and a flick of his hand sent word to the soldiers that waited outside his door, and they headed off to escort his previous guest down to the Fire Palace. He and Qing Yu could have a much longer, more fruitful, and far more enjoyable conversation down there.

Well, enjoyable for Wen Ruohan, anyway.

Maybe he really would let it get out that he’d done it because the man had bored him. There was value in having the appearance of instability, after all…

“Do you know of any rumors in the Lan sect regarding Lan Qiren’s future plans?” he asked his new top spy for Gusu. “I presume you get the same reports as Qing Yu. There must be something that someone is saying.”

Presumably mindful of the fate of his predecessor, Wang Liu gave the matter some serious thought.

“Nothing concrete or believable, Sect Leader,” he finally said. “Even the most persistent rumor I heard was little more than chattering among the Lan women that now that Lan Qiren was free of the burdens of sect leadership, he might finally go ahead and get married.”

That actually got a real, genuine bark of laughter out of Wen Ruohan.

“Lan Qiren,” he said, unable to contain his glee. “Lan Qiren, married? Can you imagine? The poor woman!”

Wang Liu couldn’t conceal an answering smirk of his own.

“Just imagine it,” Wen Ruohan continued, doing just that, his laughter getting stronger rather than fading. “Listening to him drone on and on about those awful Lan sect rules day and night! It’s probably his idea of convivial dinner table conversation – ah, no, the Lan sect has a rule against speaking while eating, doesn’t it? So it’d be sitting in silence instead, and then the rules would come out –”

Lao Nie, the current Sect Leader Nie, had once told Wen Ruohan that he’d gotten Lan Qiren drunk in some sort of experiment, and that the other man had apparently gone on a full-shichen rant about some arcane nuance of some rule developed four generations earlier. If that was what the man was like when he was drunk, Wen Ruohan couldn’t even imagine the misery of being married to him while he was sober.

He supposed there was the possibility that it might not be quite as bad as he was making it out to be: Lan Qiren was a Lan, in the end. That family had once been infamous for their mad hearts, even the most placid and boring of them a potential minefield – it was really their one bout of unorthodoxy, the way they honored their ancestor’s ceaseless devotion to a single dao companion, for whom they would do anything. Would it be possible for Lan Qiren to change everything about who he was once he’d fallen in love…?

Of course, that assumed he’d marry for love.

Still chuckling, Wen Ruohan dismissed Wang Liu and headed down towards his Fire Palace to entertain himself. He found, to his surprise, that he couldn’t quite get the thought out of his mind. Though perhaps that was understandable: it was a compelling notion! The Lan sect might prefer to marry for love, but they were as deeply mired in the muck of politics as everyone else. While they refrained from arranging betrothals in childhood to allow for the possibility of their disciples falling in love and ruining everything, they were more willing to be practical when it came to older ones, and Lan Qiren must be around thirty by now. It wouldn’t be implausible for him to want to get married…

Or at least agree to it, anyway. After all, Qingheng-jun was new to the scene, coming back to take charge of his sect after ten years of absence; he would need to make some big moves to establish his authority. It would only be beneficial to him if he could arrange some sort of alliance on the basis of Lan Qiren’s marriage, establishing himself as a figure to be reckoned with both internally and in the wider cultivation world, and it would probably tickle his fancy to utilize a brother he despised to do it.

Maybe that really was what Qingheng-jun was planning.

It would even be rather clever, really. A few months of seclusion to remove Lan Qiren from power, then shackling him down with some woman of Qingheng-jun’s selection – and Lan Qiren was a valuable matrimonial prize, as such things went, capable of winning all sorts of benefits for the Lan sect.

Brother of a sect leader, years of service and experience as sect leader himself…the sect that married their daughter to Lan Qiren would probably even think that they’d be getting a direct line to Qingheng-jun – of course, they’d be wrong, if Qingheng-jun really did dislike his brother, but that was the sort of thing an outsider wouldn’t know unless they had access to the types of spies Wen Ruohan had – and also all of those valuable connections Lan Qiren would have spent years building with the other sect leaders. What wouldn’t they trade for such an immense advantage? Qingheng-jun could have his pick of the world!

Of course, such a solution still left the long-term problem.

Wen Ruohan just couldn’t see someone as upright and devoted as Lan Qiren turning away from his nephews simply because he’d married and had his own children. The man’s personality just didn’t seem to be that type, not at all. He was too bull-headedly loyal, too devoted, too true…well, perhaps Qingheng-jun simply didn’t know him well enough. He’d been gone for ten years, after all.

Lan Qiren, a married man with a wife of his own at home, Wen Ruohan thought to himself once more, and shook his head. For some reason, the amusement that he’d initially had at the ridiculousness of the thought had faded away, leaving only a strange sense of dissatisfaction. I just can’t see it.

I can’t see it at all.

[dilatorywriting]

ADGSH I'm glad my brainworms spark joy, truly /gen.

There's a part of me that always feels a little bad about spreading the brainworms, because I know full well how much chaos they can cause. And I even stopped myself passing on the infection this time! And then the universe had other plans.

But alas I hath returned for a part 2. A significantly shorter part 2. I'm not sure if this will help or hinder the og plot you already had planned but! I bestoweth it onto thee all the same.

So.

Azul is now squatting in your house. Your already-too-small-for-just-you little apartment living space above your shop. He still refuses to tell you what he is, but it's quite obvious that he's not human. You would guess that he's A Thing from the ocean, based on some of his.... Habits. You suppose that it's better he stays with you though, so that you can keep an eye on him until he sorts out whatever it is that he's done to bind you both together.

Except, in that regard, you're both at a bit of an impasse. Because just as you are absolutely certain that the cause of this situation is on Azul's side, Azul is just as convinced that this whole thing is your doing somehow.

He regards you, and your shop, and your daily life in general, as if it's all some big farce. Like if he just waits long enough he'll eventually find a crack to pry his fingers into and rip down the veil, leaving you no choice but to reveal yourself as the big powerful wizard that tricked him into a binding contract. Except that's never going to happen, because you're not a big powerful wizard and never will be. And you can't make any progress on undoing the bind yourself, so you're stuck waiting until Azul manages to look past his ego and see you for what you really are.

In the mean time, the both of you settle for being as passive-agressive as possible.

There seems to be a pact of non-agression, or protection from harm, built into the bond between you. Azul cannot simply kill you to solve the issue, and you, regrettfully, cannot literally slap some sense into him. So instead, you've devolved to petty inconveniences. No there is no spare mattress, Azul, and very very unfortunately you can't afford to buy one so yes, Azul, you will have to sleep on the floor, all night, every night :). And oh? what's this? Azul woke up early because the floor was uncomfortable? And reagarranged your entire kitchen and store inventory? So now nothing is where you remember it being and finding the cultery drawer takes you 20 minutes? Why thank you, Azul :) How Generous Of You :) For Cleaning Up :)

And all of this really shouldn't be making you as upset as it does.

Seriously. You have a thick skin from growing up as the token Untalented, Almost-Magicless Mage. You do Customer Service for a living and deal with all sorts of rude and strange customers. Yet somehow Azul, Mr Pretty Boy who winded himself climbing the stairs, gets under all of this experience. Maybe it's because he's with you nearly 24/7. Maybe it's because whenever you turn to him, 7 times out of 10 what you're met with is his cold, calculating gaze. Waiting for that big reveal that's never going to happen. Or maybe it's because having someone convinced that you're more than you really are hurts so much more than any insult. Whatever the case, you continue to spark off each other.

Eventually this ends in disaster, as only it can. And it involves the little Sunday Market Pest.

You'd discovered that your Sunday Market Rival sometimes picked through your trash, and often swiped your smaller deliveries if you left them out for too long. So you'd set a trap - a box of enchanted flower seeds that you'd wrapped up to look like a delivery, set on your doorstep as if you'd forgotten it. But Azul, in his infinite wisdom, takes it upon himself to twist the enchantment put on them, so that when your rival came to demonstrate the product at the market the following day, it would turn out... not quite as anticipated, to say the least.

Problem was, you'd already sabotaged the seeds yourself. Soaked them in a mild potion, that should've changed the intented effect of the seed to a disappointing huff of smoke.

But when that poor, clueless rival of yours activates one during the bustling Sunday Market, your mild potion mixes with whatever strange enchanment Azul had cast, and the result is...quite quite bad.

You were there of course, to witness how your little trick would turn out, only to see the townspeople fleeing from the scene en masse. At the center of the almost empty market is a bizzarre disaster that swats at the stragglers and the unconscious rival of yours.

You turn to Azul and find his signature, cold stare looking back at you. He asks what you intend to do. And you break.

You scream. You scream that you can't do anything, that you never could, because you barely had any magic at all. Somewhere in your rant you also call Azul stupid. Stupid for letting his pride obscure what was in front of his face - you're just a human with barely enough magic to make some flowers grow. Not this formidable magical mastermind he mistook you for.

Azul just stares at you. Something... raw creeps over his face as he watches you. And then he's gone. And it goes suddenly and eeriely quiet at the disaster zone behind you. You turn, and the disaster is gone, smoking, as if blighted off the face of the earth. Azul is walking back to you with his eyes cast down and his mouth twisting.

The both of you sit on nearby grassy knoll and watch the wreckage smoulder. Eventually Azul speaks, and it really does feel like the earth itself stops moving when he not only admits his mistake, but also apologizes. It's short, and clipped, and huffed through his nose but it's still uttered. Azul continues speaking, and picks over his words slowly.

"If magic power is something you desire, though. I can help with that. While this bond lasts, I can be your... patron. Of sorts. I can advise with my own power and knowledge. For a price."

And when you ask what that price is, he simply says "There'll be several subclauses, but the priority is this: when I find a way to sever the bond between us, you must agree to willingly release me at that time. Otherwise, I'm afraid we'll be stuck like this. So it's also in your best interest."

And so, you make a deal with a Azul Ashengrotto, and employ an ancient eldritch something as your patron.

(aaaaand scene. That's kind of all there is for this one. Seelie post inspo + some softcore enemies to friends to lovers. Will the brainworms leave me in peace? who can say. For all I know, I could be back tomorrow with an "actually i lied the brainworm coughed up a fluff scene at 5am in the morning pls take". If nothing else I hope it sparks joy /gen)

-Reaper

*claps and claps and claps and claps and—*

I am so in love with this it’s a problem. Here I am working on Leona’s next part, trying to finish up two different projects that have nothing to do with Azul at all, and now my brain is just happily swimming through the sea of Octo Boy Chaos. Just *muah* *chef’s kiss* just builds on itself to get better and better. I am such a sucker for Azul AUs with the whole Enemy-To-??? Dynamic that mirrors the situation in the actual game. And this is just lovely

But thank you muchly for blessing my brain with this Masterpiece of a Brain Worm. Hopefully this lil’ wormy can learn to coexist with all the others currently duking it out. Best of luck, little dude

[hey-michael-young-history]

Hotline Bling: Another Excerpt

Johnny and Hanzo got into an argument and learn something new.

“Calm yourself.” Hanzo was next to him now, subjecting him to the intensity of his brown eyes. “Regain control of your pheromones. You will disturb Kuai Liang.”

Johnny scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He's out like a light. I can't believe you don't know how hard he sleeps after he cums. Or maybe you just never noticed.”

Hanzo growled and grabbed his face, fingers digging into his cheeks. His pheromones slipped out, focused and seething. Towards Johnny.

Whoa, is he targeting his pheromones just to me? He felt like a kid about to get scolded. Oh well. Any attention is good attention.

He smirked at his own internal sarcasm, which did not help his present situation.

“You take nothing seriously, not even a matter as grave as my Omega. Your insolence will not be tolerated, even if I have to punish you like the child that you are.”

“Oh yeah, spank me, Daddy,” Johnny growled back, rolling his eyes.

Hanzo scowled but something on Johnny caught his attention, leaving him speechless.

Johnny looked down And almost jumped out of his skin. He was fucking hard, fully erect and leaking. Come on, little Johnny, don't do this now!

“You… what is this?” Hanzo snapped.

“Okay… uh… look, hold on, hold on, okay hold on,” Johnny stammered, backing up. “There's a lot going on.”

“You… want me to spank you…?”

“No, geez, ah– maybe? No, no. Look.” Johnny held his hands up. “I've got shit of my own to work out, okay? Shit that I thought was tucked away in the vault.”

“Vault? I have no idea what nonsense you are spewing. You are an unstable Alpha.”

“Back the fuck up,” Johnny growled. “I'm a lot of things, but I don't deserve to be called that. What's your issue with me? You think I’m a clown? You don't think I notice you challenging me every fucking time I see you? What, you think I'm a sucker just because I didn't go to hell and become a bitter fuck when my wife died?”

Hanzo started to speak, but Johnny continued, “You think anyone who doesn't react with to any slight inconvenience with insurmountable rage is a fucking pussy. You think I'm living in a fantasy world but look buddy, I'm living in the real world where there's consequences for my fuck ups. Not everybody reacts to everything with their fists. Not every situation needs a total disaster response. Everyone isn't an asshole like you, Dad!”

He hadn't even realized what he said until Hanzo’s expression shifted from annoyed to stunned. Johnny scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

Alright, I just unloaded some pent up daddy issues on a guy who breathes fire. This is punishment. I deserve this. No running, Johnny Boy. Cages don't run.

Johnny cleared his throat, turned on his heel and promptly walked out of the room, leaving Hanzo even more confused.

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a problem brewing all across this country. Great industrial factories, warehouses, shipping hubs – all going dormant as their parent companies amalgamate and optimize. Their plans simply do not involve the small towns which brought their respective industries to greatness. They are surplus to requirements, and in the absence of a new buyer, just get abandoned.

Where I live, there's a serious problem too. There just aren't enough places to park cars. Admittedly, I have a few more cars than the average family, but I think that everyone should be allowed to purchase the entire Mopar colour catalogue from 1971 to 1981 and street-park every single one. Obviously, bylaw disagrees. They want me to park at least some of these cars, especially the ones with no registration, off the road. Very far off the road.

There's one thing that every abandoned warehouse, office building, factory, rocket launch pad and pornography distributorship has. A parking lot. And parking lots are big – the ladder-climbing building managers who operated these properties sized the lots to their absolute peak of employee headcount, likely mere minutes before the disaster that finally stayed their great machines.

Now, I can't fix all of the country's socioeconomic malaise. I'm just one dude, and not a particularly productive one at that. All I can do is go by, make an insultingly low offer for the property, and then not pay the big corporation when they send me the invoice. It's such a small amount of money that they usually don't even notice I haven't paid. In exchange for a little light fraud, I get a new place to park a bunch of cars. Sure, it's a little inconvenient driving an hour or two to get to those cars, but most of them don't run anyway.

[pandasmagorica]

First watch: Knock Knock Boys episodes 3-6

Start with episode 1 (mature content)

Thinking further on my clowns, I'd also be happy with an ending where Almond decides he's okay with being a virgin and stops obsessing about losing it and everyone supports his decision.

But I'm getting way too far ahead of myself. Let the series unfold as it will.

Ep 3

Love the food as food porn, not just your every day food porn, but eating almost as a sexual act.

Ep 4

And love how the folks at Sis Hui don't take any crap about their food - I'm roaring with laughter. Reminds me of a Singlish poster about the Singapore restaurant food sanitation ratings: A - Avoid B - Better C - Can D - Delish

Ep 5

Yay! They subtitled "faan dii" as "Have a sweet dream". Alas, in a non-romantic context (Jane to her uncle) but welcome none the less.

Reveals after the cut, or continue with episodes 7-9

Ep 3

Love the prank on us viewers as to how they got to the pre-credits scene and what it meant this episode. Yes, I was thinking it was post-orgy lol. Psych!

Ep 4

Is Latte protecting Almond from a bad first experience with Jumper, protecting his chance at getting the free years rent, or is Latte jealous? Maybe a little of two of these, or all three. Based on Jumper's comments, I'm guessing that if Jumper and Almond had wound up in the closet together, it would have disabused Almond of any romantic thoughts and he would have been a wreck.

So the pre-credit scenes will pretty much happen near the end of the episode but won't necessarily be pranking us.

Okay, first Twins and now Knock Knock Boys. I'll bet there are others, I just haven't seen them. Enough with the inauspicious pooping - and this time also puking - as humor. I can stick with the series in the hopes there won't be any more but still, it doesn't even qualify as funny once. But I guess it's the worst disaster they could come up with.

And in a way, it could serve a different dramatic function than in Twins, where I think it attempted a pure slapstick function. Here in Knock Knock Boys, it could - and we'll see whether it does - serve to get Almond to take Jumper off the pedestal Almond has placed him on. That is Jumper takes an inconvenient shit instead of being a shit, which at least would give Almond a path to forgive him.

I don't remember the original scene where Peak kisses Thanwa while lying on top of him on the couch that we're flashing back to during the closet scene. When was that? Or, like some other flashbacks, are we seeing it for the first time? Anyway, Peak's man-loving side sure happened a lot faster than I expected it to.

And bad (for Peak) and good (for dramatic conflict) for Jane to show up.

And poor Almond, to walk in and see what he saw.

Ep 6

And wondering what is Jane's story. She seems quite open minded for someone who might or might not get married depending on the outcome. Guess she isn't pregnant after all, but what's with the father?

Is she a double agent? Encouraging Peak to let his feelings be known to Thanwa, but telling Thanwa that if Peak doesn't marry Jane, Peak will be in trouble with his father. Does she want to marry Peak or not?

And when are we going to see what really happened in that locker room as to what Almond did after raising his phone in Jumper and Shawn's direction?

Continue with episodes 7-9

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction

Chapter 9

“Gods be damned, I’m going to bed,” I say with frustration. Not at Gale of course, but at the entirety of this situation that’s causing an ungodly amount of stress and anger. How on Earth can Raphael possibly vanish? What are we supposed to do? It appears our only option is pleading for forgiveness – and even then, that may not even suffice.

“I’m right there with you.” Gale crawls into the comfortable, soft bed with me wrapping his arms around me from behind as a wave of calmness and clarity fills the room; but from what? “I figured the Weave might help perish your anxiety.” Every ounce of it begins to fade as the Weave blankets over my body and spirit, eliminating all terrible feelings within me. Gale can also feel the serenity in the room, absorbing every moment of it.

“This…helps,” I murmur, noticing the cobalt blue light of magic circulate around the room. I turn to face my darling husband, cuddling up close to his warm body. “While I still feel sick, my anxiety has at least faded.”

“Good, that was my goal. You’re my whole world. I love you.” His soft whispers remind me of threads of silk; thrilling to the soul, and so delicate you don’t want to leave. I press my lips against his as we embrace each other within the Weave.

In my dream, I only see pink clouds and astral skies, my spirit dancing within them as I’m being held by Gale. I feel an overwhelming but amazing sensation of ecstasy as I’m floating through the exotic skies, never wanting this moment to end. Is this a dream or is this the Weave’s doing? Either way, my body feels free as I flourish through the air without a single care in the world. Alive. Sensational. Free of worries and pain.

The morning sun arises, gleaming through the glass windows of our room. However, it isn’t the sun that wakes us up, but Astarion and Karlach, though there’s no surprise about that. I finally got a well-rested sleep, my body feeling refreshed and my mind at ease. Astarion knocks on the door, scaring the shit out of me.

“Come on, let’s go. Ugh. We don’t have all day,” he says impatiently.

“I’m so cozy,” I tell Gale, finding it a struggle to get out of bed. I curl up against him, hiding my face in his chest for just a brief moment. “I guess it’s best though so you can get back to teaching.” He smiles at me as he lifts my chin up with his hand, gazing deep into my eyes. Our eyes are like magnets; holding onto each other and refusing to pull away.

“I’m so sorry baby, though you are correct. I just worry about Raphael popping up spontaneously while I’m teaching and…well, who knows what would happen other than a disaster?”

“New fear unlocked.” He has a point. It seems we’re being spied on once more, and he could come at us at the most inconvenient of times. Last thing we need is having him there while Gale is teaching or while I’m in labor. I wish there was a way to stop him for good.

We all leave Sharess’s Caress and stop for food before heading back out on the roads to Waterdeep. A long adventure is heavily anticipated, though I hope it’s less terrifying than it was on the way here.

“Well, it was nice being here for a day. Too bad it’s not acceptable to scream as loud as I can within the city anymore,” Karlach says, followed by a disappointed sigh. We all look at her for a moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in that tiefling head of hers.

“Um… Anymore?” Astarion questions, his voice filled with confusion.

“So Gale, I know being a scholarly wizard has been your dream for years now, but now that you’re expecting a little one, are you looking forward to it?” Shadowheart asks, shoving a juicy ripe tomato in her mouth. Not something I’d call breakfast, but who is to judge? “Will you teach them the ways of the Weave?”

“Um, maybe when they’re a little older, I can teach them the beauty of magic, educating them on the exquisite, boundless streams of the Weave. Ah. To teach my own flesh and blood the ways of magic, and the possibility of them following in my footsteps makes me ecstatic! The thought of a small child vomiting on me isn’t quite a pleasant thought, nor is the idea of sleepless nights and changing diapers more or less. It’s a tad displeasing.”

“Oh come on, why?!” Karlach shouts.

“Because it’s gross, that’s why.”

“Oh, but you can tolerate the Temple of Bhaal?”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.”

As we make our way past Rivington and lead into what was once known as the Shadow Lands, more and more old Absolute symbols are being spotted on rocks and even on the sides of buildings. Luckily, the lands are being restored and it looks like locals are trying to paint over them.

“The lands that were once full of corrupted shadows blossomed into a new life full of light and new beginnings,” Shadowheart says as she admires the scenery. It really is so much brighter and full of life unlike before.

“Just like you, Shadowheart,” I tell her, a smile growing upon my face. She smiles back and I notice a small blushing of her cheeks. Ages ago, she would have thrown a sarcastic remark at me and a smirk.

“I could live without these damned symbols everywhere. They must be from when the shadows corrupted the lands,” Astarion mumbles. I notice he’s walking in the sun with no issues, and he knows it. Is there something he’s hiding? How is it that he’s walking in the light? Now is not the time to ask, but I plan on it once we get back to Waterdeep. I do wonder why he hasn’t brought it up though.

“Unfortunately, Raphael is responsible for the uprising once more. Hopefully it won’t last forever,” Gale says and sighs with concern.

“Please tell me Waterdeep is serene and not a howling wasteland?”

“Too late to turn back now, Astarion,” he teases in response.

I can’t seem to shake off the terrifying thoughts of Raphael taking our newborn and using it as thrall for his Hell home. The idea of him torturing our baby, taking away the child’s mind of its own and ability to be its own person… A little whimper escapes my mouth as these unsettling thoughts cross my mind. I try to fight off the tears but they are uncontrollable. All heads turn toward me, and it appears everyone is thrown off by my sobbing, especially Gale.

“I have never seen you cry like this before, are you alright?” Astarion asks. Gale takes a step toward me, pulling me close in his arms as I cry. This is the first time anyone in the party has seen me upset – well, except for when I found out I was pregnant.

“What’s the matter, my love?” Gale asks, brushing my dark curls out of my face. “You can tell me.”

“It’s…Raphael. He wants to take our baby and use it as a thrall. I don’t know how to stop him.”

“WHAT?” Wyll asks, his face shifting to an angry expression. “Emmy, you know damned well we won’t let him hurt that baby. We destroyed the elder brain, remember? We can do this. The child will be alright.” Wyll’s words are more than reassuring and my tears begin to dry up. I take a deep breath, feeling my anxiety loosen up a little. He’s right. Though Raphael may be a threat, he’s not impossible. Who knows? There may be a way around this situation.

As we venture through the cleansed area full of lively petunias and daffodils, I notice a few graves – which appear to be the ones of the tieflings that lost their lives, including Arabella’s parents.

After quite a few hours of just walking through the lands of what used to be corrupted shadows, we decided to build our camp and rest for the night. We eat at the campfire but my exhaustion makes it hard for me to enjoy myself fully with everyone, so I lie in the tent alone for a while until Gale is ready to come to bed. I could tell he’s invested in a conversation with Wyll and I love seeing it, but my exhaustion just can’t keep up.

After a couple hours, Gale finally comes to accompany me in the tent, curling up to my body.

“Just think, tomorrow we will be back in our own bed. It will be easier for us to just lie there and snuggle all night long,” he whispers in my ear, his soft voice giving me goosebumps across my body. “I guess we still need to talk to my mother as well at some point. She will be thrilled about the news!” His facial expression quickly shifts as he notices the exhaustion and inability to sleep. “Oh. I’m so sorry. Are you unable to sleep?” I turn to face him, restless but grateful he’s next to me at this very moment; otherwise, my anxiety would be taking a toll.

“I wish I could sleep. I need to think about what Wyll said before, it helped. You being here, though, makes me feel at ease.” He places a hand on my belly as he gazes deep into the depths of my eyes.

“I’ll never leave you. Ever.” I smile lightly, feeling a strong sense of comfort. I begin to think how differently life would be if Gale took the crown. How there’s no way we would be where we are now, and who knows if that’s good or bad. I look at the late night sky, listening to the crickets chirp and the soft sound of owls hooting.

“Do you ever regret not taking the crown?” Gale stops to think for a moment, contemplating the life we would have if he did ascend to godhood.

“You know what? No. Like, yes, you and I would have immortality and we probably wouldn’t have given up the crown as easily as Mystra did. But who is to say I could handle it? Would I still be the same Gale I am now, or would I become someone I don’t recognize?” I curl up with my darling husband, smiling as I listen to him talk. I’m grateful he made the choice that was best for him. It’s comforting that he realizes now that obtaining the crown would be a terrible idea for everyone involved.

“You’ll be such a great father,” I whisper, feeling a hint of sleepiness hit me like a train. He smiles, making that cute little chuckle sound he makes all the time, a part of him I absolutely adore.

“I’m truly glad you think so. You’ll be a fantastic mother and I look forward to our future.” Before I know it, I fall into a deep, heavy slumber in his arms.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was wondering if you’d come across any fics that deal with the idea of Hell being able to talk to Crowley through his electronics or directly in his mind? I know that I’ve seen a couple of them, but I haven’t had a chance to read them! (thank you, if you do know some!)

Hello. Here are some fics which feature Hell’s communication methods...

Myself With You by fractalgeometry (T)

It was the kind of night that Crowley liked to savor, committing every little detail to memory so that he could return and go over it all again on days when he wasn’t so lucky, wasn’t meandering around London with Aziraphale with everything seeming right with the world.

Of course, he’d later think bitterly, that would be when Hell would come up with their first specific assignment in twenty years. Awful timing, perfectly on-brand.

The Ludicrous and Many Disasters of Mister A. Z. Fell, Houseplant by souljelly (T)

Aziraphale tries to change his corporation and ends up as a houseplant. Crowley whisks him away to be potted, cared for, and screamed at properly at his flat. Aziraphale makes some unexpected new friends.

I Could Drink A Case Of You by wraithwitch (M)

"The upper echelons of Hell go in for periodic torture sessions against demons who’ve displeased them. It’s all par for the course in a place that sees the removal of fingernails more as a practical joke than actual torture..."

dearly departed by attheborder (T)

Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?”

“Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —”

“You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?”

***

Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

With you, with me by NohaIjiachi (T)

“Oh, shit,” Crowley muttered, but it came out more like ‘ohkjfd—‘

The man— A bloody priest was still keeping his umbrella over Crowley. The fabric of his button-up had darkened on his shoulders, now throughly drenched.

He could see more details, now, and Crowley stared. The priest had round, gentle features, and a shock of hair so blond it looked white collected in messy, soft curls. There was some sense of deep-sedated sadness in his grey-blue eyes, as he looked down at Crowley.

“I’d imagine that you need to get back up on your feet, then, son,” the priest said, sounding somehow tired. “You can’t stay here.”

“…I have nowhere to go,” Crowley replied, feeling like his tongue was double in size in his mouth. It was a lie, and wasn’t one at the same time.

He could technically go anywhere he wanted, as long as the Bentley stopped pouting at him for getting high again, but he had nowhere to go.

Wednesday by Raphaela_Crowley (T)

After a bizarre confrontation with Hastur and one really bad cup of tea, Crowley finds himself in an alternate universe wherein he's back to being the archangel Raphael, there's no Arrangement, and Aziraphale is actively trying to discorporate him.

The worst part?

Every time Aziraphale succeeds in offing him, and "Raphael" is returned to earth with a new body, the day resets. It's always the same doomed Wednesday, over and over and over again.

Getting into this time-loop was an accident; getting out and back home again (if Crowley ever manages it) will have to be something entirely else.

- Mod D

[milkytheholy1]

Marvel Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Dream, Dream, Dream - Wanda x GN Reader

You're eyes flew open, your back hunched over and your breathing heavy. You continued to pant as you regained your sense of awareness, feeling your chest tighten with every deep inhale.

America was by you in a second, a calming hand placed onto your shoulder and soothing words like "It's ok" and "You're ok now."

Are you happy? - Wanda x Female Reader

Minor spoilers for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Apple pie - Wanda x GN Reader

Wanda Maximoff x GNReader. Set during Wandavision, I hope you get confused!

Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver

Adventures in parenting 101 - Peter x Female Reader

Could we get some peter maximoff x reader being new parents and raising a kid in the mansion?

A typical sitcom - Peter x Female Reader

Hey everyone, so I was really in a debate to post this since it doesn't feature much interaction between Peter and the reader, however, some of you said you still wanted to read it so here we go. This oneshot is set during the 80s era of Wandavision and is mainly just a normal sitcom. And sorry, I know it's not gender-neutral like most of my oneshots but it's very rare now, unless it's a request, where I don't do a gender-neutral reader. Sorry if that cause an inconvenience for anyone, but the gender isn't that much of the story save for a few words. Enjoy!

I want a date - Peter x GN Reader

Howdy! So like everyone I've been obsessed with Wandavision, especially in the last two eps (5, 6). So recently I went back and binged the last few X-Men movies and had to write something for my boy Peter Maximoff, please bear with me this is the first time I've ever written for this character and I'm not that well inversed with the X-Men franchise. I'll most definitely write more of Peter in the future as well as all the TMNT requests that I need to get through. Thanks for your patience though, I promise I'll get through all the requests! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Yelena Belova

Another failed mission - Yelena X GN Reader

Just a quick little oneshot, all fluff, never written for Yelena before but I've been dying to for a while, hope you enjoy!

Kate Bishop

Lodger on the couch - Kate x Female Reader

There's a lodger in the apartment and it's about time he left, but who will do it? The reader, Kate or the lodger himself?

Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Is this the only reason you dropped by? - Peter x Female Reader

Summary: Spiderman visits his favourite civilian.

Meet the parents - Peter x Female Reader

Summary: A meet the parents dinner gets interrupted.

Loki

Not even if you bribe me - Loki x Female Reader

Set during Avengers 2012 ending battle.

Peter Quill/Starlord

I'm Not In Love - Peter x Female Reader

A song brings up memories for Quill as the reader tries to help him though it.

Infinity - Peter x Female Reader

Based on Avengers Infinity War when the Guardians are introduced.

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Solider

I want to learn more - Bucky x Female Reader

The glint of silver shone brightly through the midnight gloom, the raindrops pattering down onto the metal slowly trailing off and dripping onto the hard concrete beneath him. His gun was placed by his side, his hand hovering over it in case they shot first.

Do you regret it? - Bucky x Female Reader

Short story, Bucky and the reader broke up on mutual terms but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants the question is does Bucky regret it?

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Do you regret it Final

Prom 2.0 - Bucky x Female Reader

The readers prom was a complete disaster so Bucky and the others try to make it up to them.

Part of the beginning is the end - Bucky x Female Reader

Endgame spoilers beware!!!

Date night - Bucky x Female Reader

I don't know where I'm gonna be five years from now, but I pray to god it's somewhere with a beautiful view and beside you.

Last longer - Bucky x Female Reader

Reader takes a shower, Bucky’s at the door and someone loses a bet.

Hurt - Bucky x Female Reader

May I suggest one? When Bucky recently joined the avengers, he starts getting small panic attacks. One day, it’s so bad, (y/n) has to help him out of it before he hurts himself.

Dreams - Bucky x Female Reader

Bucky's mind is plagued with nightmares of his former allies and friends what happens when he isn't alone this time to deal with it all.

[jeonqkooks]

strictly platonic | jjk (teaser)

READ THE FULL FIC HERE. posted 17.07.22

Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/warnings: best friends to lovers, college au, fake dating(ish) au, pining!, fluff, angst, smut

release date: TBD. hopefully by the beginning of july

word count: 788 for the teaser (final word count should be at least 10k, we shall see)

note: posting the teaser to actually put some pressure on me to finish this fic instead of letting it collect dust among my wips. also can y’all tell that i got lazy with the banner lol 😭

— if you’d like to be tagged when the fic gets released, go here and fill out the form ♡

Over the years, you have accumulated a list of annoying things about Jeon Jungkook.

He’s very loud, and has absolutely zero subtlety. He’s competitive—perhaps to an alarming extent—and chews with his mouth open sometimes. He’s way too stubborn for his own good and would rather eat soap than admit he’s in the wrong. He’s childish and full of pride at the same time, which is always a combination for disaster.

He can be selfish though he doesn’t mean to; maybe it’s just a side effect of being an overgrown baby. He needs to cuddle when either of you sleeps over, or else he gets agitated and won’t stop whining until you slot yourself into his side.

Jungkook hogs the blanket. He forces you to go on 6AM runs with him. He thinks everything you own is also his by extension, but not vice versa. He constantly blasts music while you’re trying to study, and only turns it down a couple notches when you threaten to tell his mom about that time he was in middle school and broke one of her precious vases, but somehow managed to pin it on the dog.

Despite all that, Jungkook is very charming, effortlessly so. Ever since he had that growth spurt at 14, girls started flocking to his side and vying for his attention, and surprisingly, his previously quiet self morphed into someone more confident and outspoken.

Throughout high school and now halfway into university, Jungkook has become the person that guys wanted to be, and girls wanted to be with.

He looks as if Apollo had descended from the heavens and made himself home among mere mortals. With fluffy dark hair, sparkly Bambi eyes, a jawline that can cut glass, and a well-toned body underneath his oversized hoodies, he’s the textbook definition of “boyfriend material”. Wherever he goes, Jungkook just exudes that charisma that makes people stop and say, “Wow. That. I want that. Where do I get myself someone like that? Do they sell them on Amazon?”

He’s smart in that casual and infuriating way where he still manages to ace all his classes without ever really trying. All his professors adore him even though he’s almost always late to class and hands in his assignments at least a few days after the submission deadline without giving any kind of notice or excuse.

Jungkook seems like the total package—someone that mothers would love to call their son-in-law. (But, not everyone is privy to all his flaws like you are.)

And if all of that isn’t enough to knock the pants off of every wide-eyed college-aged girl, he’s a Fine Arts major who looks like he came straight out of a Pinterest moodboard, who wears a pair of those thin-rimmed glasses in class that always makes the TA just a little distracted. Who carries around a leather-bound journal wherever he goes like he’s a Shakespearean protagonist, just in case inspiration strikes and he needs a place for his sketches. It’s the journal that you saved up for three months to get him as a high school graduation gift, but also the very same one that everyone on campus daydreams about having a page dedicated to them in it.

There are, however, a couple of downsides to having godly looks and being the campus heartthrob.

You reckon this inconveniences you more than it does him. You can’t recall how many girls have come up to you for advice on how to approach him. Or how many love notes you’ve been asked to pass since ninth grade, only for him to skim and toss them.

(Jungkook doesn’t actually throw them away; he just never responds to any of them, thereby bestowing upon you the honor of watching smiles drop from eager lips when you regurgitate the same lines of “Sorry, he’s not looking to date right now” to his admirers.)

The attention gets to his head sometimes, but at least he’s never contracted the same asshole disease that guys get whenever someone throws a couple of looks their way.

You’re his messenger of heartbreak, as he once so annoyingly called it. It helps that he’s your best friend, and you make him treat you to a nice meal after each time. If it happens to be someone especially persistent who would constantly badger you unless you gave them his phone number, he would throw in five extra coffees for all your troubles.

What doesn’t make it easier, though, is the fact that you’re also one of those lovestruck girls whose hearts he breaks on a daily basis, but you’ll never let him in on that little secret.

You’ve known him nearly all your life, and you’ve been in love with him for half that time.

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means.