#But it was good practice and trying new things so... Can't complain too much...

[sysig]

can i requeeeessstt edgar rescuing scriabin from something |D

Day 6 - There are consequences out here

Bonus, of what he was doing to get stickers in his hair:

[innerfare]

Law Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of random Law relationship headcanons.

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

If he meets someone he likes, he’s just going to ask them to join his crew because he literally has no idea how else to get close to you. Will struggle to broach the topic of liking you, too. Might kiss you on a late night in a dark hallway aboard the Polar Tang, but won’t have much to say about it, despite his heart hammering in his chest. If your first kiss isn’t aboard the Polar Tang, it will be somewhere else that’s dark and closed off so he feels comfortable. 

A lot of the things in your relationship will be unspoken, which can be annoying but he’s really not so good with words. When he does open his mouth, he keeps things short and sweet. Much more of a stolen kisses than whispered sweet nothings sort of guy. 

Victim of near insta-love, fell hard for you the very first time he saw you doing the morning crossword in the newspaper. Quickly became obsessed with the way you smirk victoriously to yourself when you figure out one of the words, even more obsessed with the way you flick him when he answers one for you. 

Started having nightmares not long after he met you, horrid dreams of you dying in gruesome ways, sometimes at the hands of the Donquixote family, other times at the hands of the World Government. Feels physically ill himself when you catch even a slight cold due to his past and the sheer number of people he knew who were taken from him. Tries to keep you out of danger to an almost comical degree, forcing you to sit down and have a conversation about it.  

Will happily answer to both Captain and Doctor and daddy.

If you have long hair, he keeps a hair tie or two on his wrist for you. Claims it’s just because you’re so annoying when you lose all of yours and complain incessantly about it. 

Lays in bed when you get out of the shower and watches you brush your hair. Actually got mad at you the first time he saw you brush your hair in a common space (before you two were an item) because it had such a strong effect on him and he didn’t know what to do; accused you of getting hair all over the place or something equally ridiculous; when you tell him Bepo sheds more than you, he starts grumbling under his breath and leaves the room. 

Writes you small notes on scraps of paper and folds them into origami- swans, rabbits, flowers, butterflies, you name it; he keeps a mental chart of your reaction to each shape and ranks them accordingly, saving the best ones for hard days. The notes aren’t anything particularly heartfelt or special, just small mundane things such as, “y/n-ah, don’t forget to take it easy today. You’re still injured,” or a book title and page number because he read something he thought you might find interesting. You’ve taken to using the origami notes as bookmarks, which makes his heart swell with pride and something else he knows deep down is love but is hesitant to name. 

He also made you a bouquet of origami flowers for you to keep on your nightstand since you complained there’s not enough light under the sea for you to keep a plant alive. Sometimes, he’ll make some new flowers to freshen up the bouquet (you have a box in your desk drawer where you stash the old ones). 

When you two are cooking, he gets a bit annoyed when you munch on some of the ingredients. He’s a ‘measure everything to 1/20 of a teaspoon and not a single pinch more or less’ sort of guy. He’s also a ‘no fries in the car before we get home and eat our burgers’ sort of guy. 

If he buys you gifts, it’s typically practical things, such as a new notebook because you said you needed one, or a better jacket so you don’t steal his on winter islands (you still steal his, it drives him insane because he can't stop blushing when you wear his clothes and he's trying to look intimidating). Also buys you books he thinks you’ll like, sometimes gets it wrong but you don’t tell him because it took him so long to open up and get comfortable and put himself out there and you don’t want to be discouraging for fear he’ll retreat back into his shell. Has also bought you a few dainty pieces of jewelry, expensive but not flashy. 

Is a hand holder, but he doesn’t do it in public. If you pass each other in the hallway, his fingers will always tangle with yours for just a quick second. When the two of you are alone, though, he wants your hand in his constantly. He’ll hold your hand while you’re both reading your books, hold your hand while falling asleep, etc. Sometimes, at meal times, he’ll hold your hand under the table, but that’s only on extra clingy days. (Clingy days are the good days for Law, his bad days being the ones when he retreats into his shell and falls asleep on the sofa in his office without eating.) 

Gives hand kisses. Will kiss each of your knuckles, will catch your hand when you pass him in the hallway and press a kiss into your palm, will climb into bed on a late night and place a few goodnight kisses on the back of your hand, will place his lips on your hand every time he gets it in his. Likes kissing up your wrist and arm before pulling you closer and kissing your neck. His kisses are always warm, btw, and not very messy. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Oh lord the mafia price and pregnant one!!! Maybe one where she tries to go back to work after they move in? Or literally anything else🙏🏻

This got a bit long haha, but enjoy!

(Part 1 here and part 2 here)

You are not in a relationship.

You'd told John, that night after he'd found you in the restaurant, that you were more than happy to have him involved with the baby but that you didn't need him or anyone else. You could do it all on your own, if you needed to.

And he'd agreed with you. Or, at least, he'd told you he agreed. You start to notice, though, that things tended to go his way in the end, so subtly, you barely noticed at first.

The first time you'd taken him to a prenatal appointment, at the free clinic near your apartment, he'd sat with a muscle jumping in his jaw for the entire, very long, wait.

A week later he'd picked you up unexpectedly after a breakfast shift and, under the pretence of going for lunch, driven you to shiny high-rise office building.

"No harm in getting a second opinion, love," he'd assured you as he ushered you into the elevator and pushed the button for "Dr Gail Brady, OB/GYN."

You'd gone along with that one, on the basis that it was better for the baby, and you'd reluctantly let John pay, not even wanting to think what an hour of time with Dr Brady would cost.

There are some things you won't compromise on, of course, but he finds ways around those too. You'd refused to let him move you out of your apartment, for one. He hadn't fought you on it but you weren't stupid—you'd noticed a constant flow of men parked across the street as you came and went and you were sure John had put them there to keep an eye on you. And you had given in and let him change your locks, in the end.

Your latest "discussion" had been about your job. Or rather, your jobs. John had almost had a conniption when he'd found out tht your job at the diner was only part-time—the rest of the time, you waitress at a different, more high-end restaurant across town.

"I need to save as much as I can now, before the baby comes," you'd insisted.

"You don't need either of 'em, never mind two," John had told you, raking his hands through his hair, at which point you'd given up on the conversation. It became a point of contention, one you both tiptoed around, neither one of you willing to admit defeat.

So when your alarm goes off, at stupid o'clock in the morning, the answering groan doesn't come from your lips but from behind you.

And, okay, maybe someone who isnt your boyfriend shouldn't spend so many nights in your bed, but you have to allow yourself some indulgences.

John automatically pulls you back into his chest before you can attempt to get up, practically rolling on top of you, though he's careful not to put much of his weight on you.

"John, I have to get to work, I'm on breakfasts," you complain but he just grumbles into your neck.

"Call in sick."

"I can't," you try to tell him, but by then his hands have drifted down your, toying with the string of your sleep shorts.

"Got a spare 10 minutes then?" he asks and you feel him then, starting to grind into your back, and you give in with a moan just as his hand dips below your waistband.

You're late to work that day and you scowl at John in the car (he never lets you take the train anymore), but he just keeps a hand on your thigh, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

And, over the next few weeks, if you notice a sudden new influx of customers, who always ask to sit in your section, are polite, and tip very generously, well that's just good timing. The new uptick in your income means you can quit your extra gig after a while and even cut down your hours in your main job.

Of course, John is adamant he has no idea who any of these people are, no clue where your new, generous benefactors have come from.

These days, he just turns off your alarm every morning with a glint in his eye, as he tells you he has better ways for you to use your time.

[saltnsugarbear]

Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.” 

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

[arminsumi]

hi! I hope you're doing well, i always look foward to your work <3

can i request gojo and geto being protective over you

drink lots of water!

Promise — 約束

SatoSugu ⋅ fem reader

NOTE — so sweet !! thank you, i'm so happy you look forward to my works :) i hope u like what i made of this, the idea just kinda happened

WARNINGS — angst with fluff / comfort (it's not actually sad the boys are just distressed because you got hurt), implied injury / near-death experience (reader)

" THEY WHAT ?! ARE THEY OUT OF THEIR MINDS ?! " Satoru yelled like you had never seen him yell before. He was seething, eyes ablaze.

" This has to be a mistake... oh, angel, don't cry, come here. " Suguru talked to you soothingly.

You had come to them and told them the news through chokes and sniffles. It stung their hearts to see you so petrified.

An especially frightening mission had been assigned to you. Usually, these two overprotective boys tagged along with you or just did it themselves to save you the burden and pain of using your straining technique. But that wasn't an option this time, for some reason.

" I have a bone to pick. " Satoru grumbled, storming off violently.

Suguru had been practically cradling you in his arms to try and soothe your nerves.

" Satoru ! Don't do something rash — ah, shit, 'gotta go after that madman or he'll kill someone. Okay, you stay with Shoko, alright ? She's in the main hall by the vending machines. Relax. Satoru and I will sort everything out. Drink some water and rest — and no cigarettes with Shoko. "

So the boys went to complain to the higher ups, and though admittedly they were shaken up by Satoru's violently aggressive attitude, they didn't budge.

" ARE YOU ALL OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS ?! "

" Satoru, calm down. " Suguru said. That's when Satoru finally calmed down.

" We're the strongest, let us take on this mission instead. " Suguru tried to reason.

Satoru's voice subtly shook when he spoke, residual anger lingering in his throat. His heart was beating heavily. " Y/n's weak. " he said. A harsh truth. " Too weak to take on a special-grade like that. "

Suguru tended to butter you up and call you strong, but Satoru was brutally truthful; you were much, much weaker than the both of them. Ever since they had met you, they felt this overwhelming urge to protect you with their lives.

Then they tried to convince the higher ups that you were " too weak " to do it. But they still didn't budge. In fact they glowered at the two students.

" You think I can't do it myself ! I'm a fucking god ! I could snap that thing in half with my fingertips ! " Satoru went into a sudden self-induced power trip, but Suguru stood besides him and silently agreed. Of course he could do it himself, he was Gojo Satoru.

Storming off again, Satoru left to go find you. And Suguru followed after his steps.

" Shoko ? Where did Y/n go ? She was supposed to be with you. "

" . . . uh, she walked right past me earlier and when I asked where she was headed, she said something about Roppongi ? " Shoko had her head in her hands and a lit cigarette between her fingers.

" God fucking damn it, that idiot. " Satoru's heart panged with worry.

" Save some limbs for me to rip off. " Suguru joked.

" Let's go get her. " Suguru said.

" I swear to fuck . . . I'll fucking rip that thing to limb by limb if it even so much as grazes her skin. " Satoru seethed.

" You two are gonna get reprimanded for this, you know. "

Satoru waved his hand dismissively and left with Suguru.

You were in the midst of battle, bleeding and panting. Covering your ears, you were just about to succumb to your paralyzing fear when suddenly your two saviors sliced right into the scene. You caught a glimpse of the most feral, raw look in Satoru's eyes; pure vengeance, it was almost artful how he pulled apart the cursed spirit.

" Angel, it's okay now, We're here. " Suguru comforted you, lifting your limp body and holding it like a baby. " You did good. Don't try to move, you must be in a lot of pain. I've got you, don't worry. Oh — Satoru, that was quick. Are you trying to show off for her ? Just teasing. "

You listened to the lullaby-like voice of Suguru and let your eyes flutter shut. The last image in your vision was that of a panting, blue-eyed boy who looked so startled to see you in poor condition. He looked about ready to cry.

Their voices sounded like distant echoes to you as you drifted into a half-conscious state, leaning more on the unconscious side.

" . . . I could kill those old fucks right now. "

" Satoru, calm down. She's going to be alright. Let's just get her to Shoko. "

" I hate seeing her like this. "

" Me too. But she'll be okay. "

" Angel, still with us ? Satoru, just breathe. She's really going to be okay. Don't cry or you'll make me cry, too. "

" Sh-she's so damn stubborn. Stubborn a—nd st-stupid. Why'd you run off by yourself like that. Y-you stupid weakling . . . "

You could hear Satoru distantly crying, and he didn't stop until after Shoko tended to you. The boys kept close, soothingly stroking your arms and cheeks to keep you conscious.

Nothing can explain the relief they felt when they saw you stirring-to again.

" Hey, sleepyhead. " Suguru's tender smile was the first thing you saw.

Satoru's lips were parted, his face paler than ever. He looked so relieved and yet shocked to the bone, like he'd just gone through the worst day of his life.

" Welcome back to the land of the living. " Shoko greeted, cleaning up the blood on your cheek. " You know, you made the boys cry. Satoru even had a snotty nose like a little kid. "

" Shut up . . . "

Satoru heard how dry your throat was when you spoke, and promptly shoved his half-full water bottle in your face, hastily drying his eyes on his uniform sleeve. Like the in-sync duo they were, they worked together to help you drink; Suguru held the back of your head, and Satoru tilted the water bottle into your mouth. Of course he spilled a bit, two rivulets of water went down either side of your jawline and tickled your neck.

" . . . was just . . . trying to show you two . . . that I'm not weak . . . but I guess I am. I'm Sorry. " you choked, voice barely above a whisper.

Their hearts sunk deep.

" You're not weak . . . " Satoru choked up too, eyes only recently dried of tears and yet fresh ones began tipping over his bottom lid, wetting his angelic lashes. " You're not weak, I'm sorry I say that all the time. I shouldn't have . . . I just . . . would rather convince you you're weak so you'll call on us all the time, 'n n-never r—r-risk los—ing y—ou. " he suddenly sobbed at the end, realizing how deeply he cared for you.

Suguru was on the verge of tears, too, because of the sight of his best friend sobbing like a hurt puppy and also because of what he had just said.

" . . . don't cry, you two. A—ahah, Sh-Shoko don't you cry with them ! Or I'm gonna cr—yh. "

" Very graceful, Satoru. " Suguru joked.

" . . . thanks. " you thanked them.

" Don't say thank you. "

You could barely make out the complicated sentence that Suguru said next, it was something like;

" You'll never be undeserving of our protection. " and " So never say thank you. "

That day, they didn't just promise to keep you safe, they vowed it. Weak or not, strengthened or not, they felt compelled to be at your side.

Through the long passage of time, they never break their vow to keep you safe, even when Satoru and Suguru part paths. You're never an enemy to either of them, you're always their baby.

It's a tough reality to accept that one of your closest friends has become a murderous cult leader, and the other has become a lonely god. But they still visit you. Sometimes you three will hang out altogether in secret — so risky, but worth it, to see the two of them smiling with you even though you had very few things to smile about during your adulthood.

The sweet, comforting feeling of the adolescent memories made with them carries through all the years.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[heizlut]

Need Somebody Older

ꕀ cw: fucking in the training simulator lol

ꕀ tags: teasing sub fem!reader, beefy daddy!yhan, age gap (15yr difference😵‍💫), daddy kink unlocked, unprotected sex, fucking in full-nelson, creampie

ꕀ more nsfw under the cut

ꕀ part 2 here

ꕀ m!list here

ꕀ a/n: @glitteryshlong not me having Older by Isabel LaRosa on repeat while writing this😮‍💨

Yhan knows this is wrong. He shouldn't be doing this with you, but the way your pretty cunt squeezes around his cock is way too enticing to quit now. His hips thrust up into you, pushing his girthy cock even deeper inside of you as practically go limp in his hold, babbling senselessly about how good his cock feels and just how how badly you need more. Oh, how he got much more than he ever bargained for…

⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ

You were always such a sweet and fiery little thing, always determined to push past your limits. Always toeing the line between what was right and wrong. Yhan couldn't help but be drawn to you, even though he was easily 15 years older than you, not that you ever complained.

You were the one always flirting here and there whenever you'd come to the training simulator, throwing out compliments about his rugged features and the grey strands in his black hair; strutting around in skirts he thought were ridiculous to wear while you trained.

At first he just rolled his eyes and told you to quit wasting your time talking to him when you should be training. But after a full month of your relentless, teasing flirtations, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to know what you would do if he acted on his impulses.

⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ

Yhan watches as sweat drips down the sides of your face, your breathing all ragged as you finish your training session in the simulator. Your sweat-drenched body glistens under the lights, showcasing every curve and valley.

Your arms are sore from testing out your new gauntlets on the simulated tacet discords, but you weren't ready to stop yet. You approach Yhan with a determined look on your sweet face, "Adjust the difficulty to a higher setting."

Yhan raises a brow at your request, trying to keep his eyes from trailing down to the swell of your breasts that rise and fall with each heavy breath. Before he can properly think about granting your request, you sway on your feet, barely able to stand upright.

Quickly, he reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your waist. The surprised look on your face did something to him. The way your pretty lips parted and your eyes widened had him tightening his grip around you, pulling you closer to him. His bicep flexing as he does his best to restrain himself as he holds you against him.

Feeling his firm hold on your waist as he held you close, you can't help but let out a shuddering breath. His musky scent and a hint of cigarettes floods your senses, making your head spin and arousal pool between your legs. Yhan's thumb rubs lightly against you hip bone, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. The tension between you crackles like electricity in the air.

"Th-thank you...", you stammer out, trying to maintain focus despite the growing heat between you. Your eyes flit between his rugged features to his muscles rippling beneath his tight shirt. There was something primal and exciting about him, so different from any other man your age.

Yhan can't help but smirk as he caught your eyes drifting. Taking advantage of the close proximity, he leans down, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper, "You doing okay, sweetheart?" Your eyes snap back up to meet his as a blush falls over your cheeks. You nod, trying desperately to suppress the fluttering feeling inside of you.

"I'm fine...", you reply softly before biting at your plush lower lip. Yhan feels a surge of arousal at the sight you, his cock hardening in his pants. Your gaze flickers downwards, noticing the bulge before quickly averting your gaze.

Yhan chuckles softly, finding your reaction to be quite endearing. "Relax, sweetheart", he smirks, taking your chin in his grasp and redirecting your gaze back up to him, "I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright." His voice is low and gravelly, filled with raw desire.

With your gaze firmly locked on his, he releases your jaw only to trail his fingers down your neck. "Don't be shy now", he murmurs, leaning in even closer til his lips almost graze yours, "Where'd that fiery little tease go, hmm?" Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, tingles rush through your body and straight to your aching clit, desperate for his touch.

Yhan's thumb grazes over the hollow of your throat, drawing a soft moan from your lips. With a low growl at your reaction, he closes the gap between you, crashing his lips against yours in a rough, demanding kiss. His large hands grip your hips as he pulls you flush against his muscular frame.

The salty taste of your lingering sweat mixed with a subtle sweetness he can’t quite place is so intoxicating, fueling his primal desire for you. Yhan's tongue licks at your lips, begging for entrance, to which you grant. His tongue explores your mouth as his lips meet yours in a rough, yet deliberate rhythm.

Despite the roughness of his actions, you find yourself melting into him. Your tongue dances with his in a silent surrender to his dominance over you. Yhan pulls away after a few moments, panting heavily. His heart pounds in his chest, matching the rhythm of his throbbing cock.

"You're really something else, sweetheart", he whispers hoarsely, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, "You've got me all worked up..." Your eyes shimmer with unspoken desire as you meet Yhan's intense gaze. You lick your lips, his taste lingering there.

You place a hand on his broad chest, letting your fingers trail lightly down the tight-fitting material of his shirt. "Is that so?", you speak back softly, but the slight teasing lilt of your voice is not lost on him as you begin to regain your usual demeanor. Yhan captures your wandering hand in his with a slight smirk, "There she is... Thought you were gonna stay all shy on me."

You give him a pointed look that just looks way too cute to him, "I'm not shy." With a hoarse chuckle, Yhan releases you hand only to slide his hands down over your ass, squeezing firmly as he lifts you off the ground. The loss of balance forces you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist with a sharp intake of breath, your pretty little skirt now all bunched up around your own waist.

The tip of his nose brushes up against yours as he speaks in a murmur, "Then prove it, sweetheart." His hot breath sends another wave of tingles down your spine, "Show me just how wild you can be..." Without hesitation, you lean forward and capture his lips in another passionate kiss. Your tongue darting out to meet his in a risky pursuit.

Your hands move up to cradle his head, fingers tangling into his grey-streaked hair, holding him in place while you pour all your pent-up desires into this moment. The taste of him and your body pressed up against his large form has you reeling. Yhan groans deeply into the kiss, his own body trembling with desire as you keep him close.

His hands squeeze your ass tighter, rutting his hips up into you as his cock throbs wildly with need in his pants. Yhan can feel himself losing control, all rational thought flying out the door, but the sensation of you is too damn good for him to care.

Breaking away from the kiss, he trails his lips down your jawline to your neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh, his facial hair scratching the skin softly. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy....", he growls against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. You can't contain the sweet moan that falls from your lips as he continues to tease your sensitive flesh with his lips and teeth.

You squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal pool between your legs as he rolls his hips up against your clothed core yet again. "O-oh gods... Yhan... I need more", you plead desperately as you tug at his hair. Yhan grins devilishly as one hand moves from your ass, sliding between your legs til his fingers make contact with your covered pussy.

"Something like this?", Yhan teases, his finger sliding over your covered clit in slow circles, feeling the wetness seeping through the fabric of your panties and onto his fingers. You gasp sharply, your body arching involuntarily as Yhan's finger finds its mark. The sudden touch sending jolts of pleasure straight through you.

"Oh fuck... Yes... Just like that", you whimper, biting down on your lip to suppress your lewd noises. Despite the risk of this situation, you can't help but grind against his fingers, desperate to feel his touch without the barrier. Yhan lets out a low chuckle at your desperation, his finger continuing to trace over your clit.

He can feel the heat radiating from your pussy, making his own arousal twitch painfully, begging to be let out. "You're so fucking wet.... Does this turn you on, sweetheart? Having an older man touch you like this, hmm?", Yhan's voice is husky with lust as he speaks.

His words have your eyes rolling back as you hump against his touch. Just the fact that this gruff older man, the object of your dirty fantasies, was touching you so intimately has you more turned on than you cared to admit. "Ngh... Please.... Need you inside me...", you beg as your cunt clenches at the thought.

Yhan's smirk grows wider, halting his touch only to brush his fingers against the side of your soaked panties. He moves the fabric to the side, the tips of his calloused fingers find your soaked hole, letting the juices drip onto his digits. He eases two fingers inside your tight, wet walls, immediately curling them up against that sweet spot inside you that has you moaning so lewdly.

He gives a low groan of satisfaction at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers as you whine for him. "You like that, pretty girl?", he whispers huskily into your ear, nipping gently at the lobe as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your needy cunt.

You moan loudly, you head falling forward against Yhan's shoulder as his fingers plunge into you. You body instinctively bucking against his hand, seeking more friction. "Oh gods... Yes, yes... Don't stop", you pant, grinding against his hand desperately.

Your legs tighten around his waist, your clit rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. "Fuck... I'm gonna cum if you keep going", you warn breathlessly, already feeling the familiar coils of pleasure tighening in your lower belly.

Yhan lets out a strained groan, his fingers working overtime to bring you over the edge. "Then let go, sweetheart... Cum for me", he coaxes, his cheek pressed against the top of your head as you continue to lean on him in his hold with your cunt clenching around his thick fingers.

Your body practically convulses as an intense orgasm washes over you. Slick juices soak his fingers as your walls pulsate around them as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you. You cry out for him, but instead of his name, you call him something else. Something that has him almost cumming in his pants like some virgin teenage boy.

"Ngh fuuuuck, daddy!"

Yhan freezes momentarily, your words sending a jolt of arousal to his throbbing, aching cock. "Daddy...?", he repeats softly, pulling his soaked digits out of you. At the sight of your flushed cheeks and wide eyes, he smirks, brown eyes full of pure lust. He brings his wet fingers to your lips, pressing against them to get you to open up.

You comply, taking the soaked digits into your mouth as you suck on them obediently, tasting yourself on your tongue. Yhan huffs out a dark chuckle, "You want daddy to fuck you, sweetheart?" You nod, taking his fingers deeper into your mouth, humming appreciatively around the digits before pulling off with a wet pop.

"Please...", you beg quietly, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Yhan raises a brow, speaking low, "Please, what?" You bite your lip, heat coursing through you as he coaxes you to say that cute little title again, "Please...daddy..." His lips twitch up when you comply, "Good girl… Now hold onto me tightly."

You do as you're told, clinging to his muscular form as he releases his hold on your ass to quickly undo his thick belt. The belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the empty training room. Yhan makes quick work of the button and zipper of his pants, tugging them down just enough to free his aching length.

His leaking cock smacks against your ass beneath you, twitching in anticipation. The sight of the trimmed black hair on his pelvis makes you wish he was fully stripped down. Gods know how delicious that happy trail must be on his lower abdomen, let alone the hair you bet covers his huge chest. Yhan grabs hold of your thighs, making you raise your legs in his arms as he folds you against him, allowing your slick heat to be fully exposed to him.

He adjusts his hips so his hard cock aligns with your entrance before pausing, looking deep into your eyes, "There's no going back from this, sweetheart. Tell me you want this...." You swallow hard, thinking back to all those restless nights where you relentlessly rubbed your clit to the thought of Yhan taking you. Your lips graze his as you lean forward, "Please fill me with your cock, daddy..."

Yhan's eyes almost roll back at your words as he groans. Not wanting to waste any more time, he plunges into your tight, welcoming heat, making you cry out so beautifully in both pleasure and surprise. He growls through gritted teeth, his features scrunched up in intense pleasure as he savors every bit of your hot, velvety cunt around his shaft, "Fuck.... My sweet girl... So fucking tight for me..."

Your pretty, kissed lips part in a delicious moan, the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out drives you insane. Your juices coating his length as he bottoms out inside of you, "Nghhhh.. Daddy.." Your walls tighten around his shaft rhythmically, milking his dick as he stays buried inside you.

Yhan grunts as he begins to thrust up, keeping your legs up in his arms. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper into your tight, wet hole, eliciting husky moans from both of you. Primal lust paints Yhan's features, his nostrils flaring as he drinks in the intoxicating scent of sex and sweat that filled the air.

"You love my cock, don't you, babydoll. Come on, I wanna hear you beg for more", he growls, thrusting up with harsh force as his heavy balls slapped against your ass. Your nails dig into his shoulders, only the fabric of his tight shirt keeping them from piercing his skin as you cling to him.

"Please... More, daddy. Fuck me harder-ngh!", you mewl as he fucks up into you. Yhan grunts in satisfaction, his thrusts becoming even more aggressive as you beg for more. "You're taking all of it, aren't you sweetheart...", he pants, his voice hoarse with lust and admiration.

You nod feverishly, cute mewls falling from your lips. Feeling Yhan's cock throbbing inside you, coupled with the intense pleasure building within her, you can't hold back any longer. Your gummy walls tighten around his shaft as you cry out in ecstasy, your whole body trembling, "Fuck, daddy! 'm cumming!"

Your inner muscles spasm, milking his cock as waves of pleasure consume you. Yhan knows he can't last much longer as his balls tighten up, his eyes rolling back as gruff groans crawl up from his throat. "Oh, fuck... That's it, babydoll... So fucking good...", he moans, body shuddering as his grip tightens.

His entire body tenses as he hits his peak, his voice growling out all low and gravelly, "Shit, gonna fill this tight pussy..." Yhan's hips jerk erratically as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss ripples through him, shooting his load deep inside of you.

Panting heavily, Yhan moves his hips back, withdrawing his spent cock from your quivering pussy. The combined juices leak and drip out onto the floor of the training room, tainting the place with their forbidden sin. Carefully, he lets you down, keeping a firm hold on your waist as you stand on shaky legs.

Your skirt falls back into place and your panties slip back over your well-fucked cunt, the remaining liquid soaking the material. Despite your dazed look, you manage a tired smirk, "Didn't think you had it in you, old man~"

Yhan scoffs a laugh as he tucks himself back into his pants, amused at how fast you were bouncing back to your teasing attitude, "Old man, huh? That's some tough talk for a girl who just got fucked into oblivion by this old man. Guess you really needed someone older to make you feel this good~" You huff out a breath, acting annoyed but unable to hide the amusement on your face as he teases back.

He reaches out, capturing your jaw in his hand, his brown eyes locked on yours with a smirk, "Besides, I thought my title was daddy now, babydoll~" Heat rises to your cheeks, this all felt so wrong but so fucking right... Your lips curl up into a mischievous smile, gripping his wrist as he lets you pull his hand from your jaw.

You bring his fingers to your mouth, tongue licking slowly up the digits before sucking them between your pretty lips. His eyes flash with desire at your lewd display, feeling his cock stir again in his pants. You pull away, smirking as you go up on your toes, you breath fanning over his lips, "Next time.. Make me scream for you... daddy~"

Stepping back from him, you turn and walk towards the exit of the training room, hips swaying in an enticing display. Yhan's gaze trails over your retreating figure, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a breath as he contemplates everything that had happened. His cock twitches again, there was no going back now, "Next time... Fuck...."

⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨ৎ⫘౨

a/n: great googly moogly, when will it be my tuuuurrrrnnnn😵‍💫

[bunnyyyuu]

durian with choso or geto :3? -adachihatemail

your roomate, choso, is truly an angel. he's respectful, quiet, and cleans up after himself and yourself. always offering to do the dishes and laundy — you were apprehensive at first, but he practically begged to do everything for you. it's almost like he won't let you lift a finger, not that you're complaining.

the thing is, though, stuff goes missing.

you don't think it's choso's fault, really, but, almost everytime he comes back from the laundromat, at least one item isn't in your freshly washed basket. you don't want to think it's choso, but, it's become worse — to the point that it's bothersome

the first time it was a sock; not the pair, just the one. the second time it was a pair of underwear, not even particularly cute ones either. the third time a shirt: a very cute crop top. this time, though, you're really worried — three different pairs of panties were just... gone! poof! what the hell?

maybe the laundromat is old and things disappear. maybe choso has bad eyes and doesn't see when he misses something from the dryer. maybe... maybe.

you decide "let's not worry about it!" you've got plenty of undies, a couple pairs of— your favorite, cutest pairs — won't hurt, right? you can buy more! in fact, you will buy more! today!

you inform choso you're going out for a few hours, and he nods along. you can talk about the case of your missing garments later. right now, you're too busy being just ecstatic to go shopping.

unbeknownst to you, unfortunately, is the guilt that is gnawing away at choso. oh, god, why did you curse a man who has such a weak resolve with the most beautiful and tantalizing roomie in the world? it's not that he wants to be like this, but, lord, when u look like that, he can't help himself.

choso doesn't want to steal your stuff, but, when your panties are right there and it was proven by the sock-stealing-test that you won't notice... what else is he supposed to do but pocket your dirty undies?

he'll return them... eventually. once he's satisfied or there's no more remnants of you or your scent on the gusset, he'll wash them and place them back in your clean clothes like nothing ever happened! but, then again, he'd probably just end up stealing a new pair.

he can get to that when it matters, but, now, finally all alone, he can do what he's been aching to do all day! those barely-there pjs youre were parading around in aren't good for choso, but, luckily, he has the perfect remedy: his fist around his cock and your panties on his face.

he knows it's sick, perverse, lewd; whatever you want to call him, he knows it's true. you trust him so much and you're always so kind — "thank you, choso!" "i really appreciate it, cho'." "if you want help — n-no? okay, but, just don't be afraid to ask!" "you're the best!" he knows you're not intentionally trying to rile him up, but he can feel the blood rush to his heavy dick the second those sweet, sweet words fall from your gorgeous lips. you didn't think he was doing all that just out of the kindness of his heart, did you?

he was, actually. well, at first. he always thought you were so pretty, but he's never been good with girls (even if yuuji tries to give him advice every time he sees him). he wanted to be a good roommate, that was all, for a while. but, then, you started dressing in those scantily-clad pajamas, scurrying from the bathroom to your room in just a loosely wrapped towel, falling asleep on his bulky shoulder while you two shared a movie night, leaving your lacy panties in the laundry basket you let choso wash, accidentally moaning a little too loud while shoving your fingers in your tight lil' hole and letting those sinful sounds travel through the thin, thin walls directly into choso's ears — it was too much.

it's not him, it's you. you're the reason he's lied back on his bed pumping his cock at record speed while moaning your name into your underwear!

he has no intention of savoring his orgasm or teasing himself, he needs to cum now. you've infested his brain like a parasite, and all he can do is soak his hand in his seed once a day.

he can just imagine you: pretty undies on your body instead of clasped against his face, the fabric pulled to the side while you wide-eyedly stare as your cunt stretches around choso's huge cock, those lips of yours, the ones he's always wanted to kiss, hung open and spilling profanities mixed with his name.

it's the hottest thing he could think of. he so desperately wants it to be real, like, now. but, alas, you scare choso. he could never admit his feelings for you wether you reciprocate them or not.

"f-fuck," he groans as he sniffs your panties, the scent of you filling his nose and turning his brain into mush. he is all too weak when it comes to you.

"choso?" your words cut through his heavenly imagination like the world's sharpest sword.

you're standing in his doorway, the one he'd left half-open thinking you'd be gone. you're a deer in headlights, stunned at speechles. there's only one shopping bag in your hand, threatening to fall from your loose grasp, as your other hand grips his doorknob that you must've been pushing open.

he's surprised himself too. how come he didn't hear the loud jingle of your keys in the door? or your click-clacking footsteps? his pale skin all over his flushed bright red as he sat up in shock, your panties falling from his face onto his bed between his legs, his hand around his cock instantly pulled away.

this is hell, he thinks.

"c-choso?" you repeat. he wishes it didn't, but your sickeningly sweet, anxious voice causes a bead or two of pearly precum to ooze from his pink tip. you can't help but to glance down between his toned thighs — holy shit, he's huge, leaking for you, and beautiful — before quickly flicking your blown-out eyes back to his mortified expression.

"i'm sorry," he manages out, deep voice strained and uncertain. is he sorry? really? maybe a little.

"uhm... you — i — are those my underwear?" you finally strangle out.

there's a beat of silence. it's the loudest thing you've ever heard, deafening.

"i'm really sorry," he repeats, but, yet again, it feels unsteady.

this is the hottest thing you've ever seen — your hot roomate jerking off, moaning your name, and sniffing your panties while doing it? it's the stuff straight out of the smut you read. is this a dream? — and words fall from your mouth without a first or second thought. "i — it's okay," you say, just as unsure as choso,

"do you want... help?"

[theredcuyo]

Huh

You know those AU/fics where the kids met earlier?, like, Dick is just old enough for Damian to be a baby kind of situation and somehow they all met and get adopted within no time from each other and all that

Well, i think the perfect dynamic for a fic will be this one:

Dick

He wasn't happy at first. At all. He went from a life of a single child to older brother of like 4 or 5 now?? In like, less than a year.

He didn't even have time to adjust to Jason before he found little Tim following him around in patrol. Not time to get around that little stalker child before Jason found a lost girl in need of help who couldn't talk. No time to even get a hold of signs when Talia came to drop a baby on Bruce.

The worst part? While he can't get around it, because he's still dealing with his grief, and anger, and why does it seem like B gets tired of his last child every week, where does that leave me, And why do this kids that i barely know look at me with eyes that say they'll follow me to hell and back-

That's the thing, his new sibblings follow him like newborn duckies, they observe and copy, and do everything he does except to leave him alone. And he's not sure how to feel about it.

He's overwhelmed with all the attention, with how this house that used to be silent has become anything but that.

And also, he can't go up to the chandeliers now. The babys try to follow behind him and he knows that non experienced people shouldn't do that. That also sucks.

Wally is making fun of him. That's one sibbling for every time you complained about not having any, he says.

He gets used to them as time goes on tho, he couldn't imagine a day without Jason coming to his room to tell him an over the top sight into the book he mentioned to have to read for class.

He can't imagine not to see tiny Tim bright up every time they see each other in the hallway.

He even forgets to actually talk sometimes instead of signs because Cass just wants to spend so much time with him and they both practice the signs a lot.

Damian is the weirdest baby ever, but he's the only member in the family who doesn't complain about being hugged for long times, at least not yet, so that's cool.

Jason

He's just happy to be here.

He didn't knew what exactly a family was, and when he found out there was another kid there, he felt a bit more safe, they could team up if it was necessary to protect themselves against the adults.

The closest thing he had to sibblings before where other kids in the streets that helped each other out, the older kids got jobs at convenience stores and sometimes they'll leave out food for them, you had to protect the youngest.

He was happy to have an older brother, and Dick clearly knew what he was doing, so everything was good.

And then he found Tim inside a trash can when he was allowed in a recon mission. He was so, so tiny, like the other kids he had met, and he knew the little thing needed protection from the world. He also had a camera with pictures of B and Robin, and that was probably important.

But whatever, two sibblings instead of none now had to be a jackpot! He did feel bad sometimes about B getting tired of him because of Tim, but, at the same time, he loved that little gremlin so much he could forget about it.

Until he wasn't so sure when Tim found a lost girl wandering around town. (He isn't Even allowed to go out alone, whats wrong with him?) don't take him wrong, Cass is great, she joins them in pranks and in spying on Dick, but she also doesn't let him forget that she's older than him (just a few months damn it!) but it's just-

She's just so much better than him too. She can't read, he has her on that, but that's all. She's stronger than him (she beated his ass in training at least twice now), she's faster, she doesn't cause problems, She's smarter than him for fucks sake.

So, why-

Why would B still want him around with this kind of upgrade?

It's not like he can ask tho, B is been very busy since that lady came to give him a baby. Literally.

And, sure, Damian is a weird ass baby, the only one he's seen that doesn't cry for most things. But he likes the little guy, he just hopes he'll still be here by the time he learns how to walk.

Tim

Tim didn't expect to be caught. He also didn't expect for it to be the new kid who found him, and as if there was anything else to surprise him with, said child auto proclamed himself as his big brother from now on.

He didn't knew if his parents will like that, because the didn't like children, not even him sometimes, but when they came back the next week and the police arrested them for working with black mask and tax evasion they didn't even ask to see him, or tried to when he reached out, so he couldn't ask.

Jason did become his brother tho, when Mr. Wayne adopted him after that, the same Mr. Wayne he knew was Batman. Huh.

Well, anything was better than an empty house, and now Robin was his-

OH GOD ROBIN IS HIS OLDER BROTHER NOW.

FUCK HIS PARENTS. HE LIVES WITH HIS HERO NOW. HE WILL OUT AS MANY CRIMES OF THEM AS NECESSARY.

Tim was overjoyed to know this. Everything was nice, Dick was cool, he didn't talk much with them, but he's Robin, nothing's cooler than that.

And Jason does spend time with him, he loves beating his ass in maro kart.

And then he found Cass when he went out to buy a new camera, he wasn't allowed to go out alone, but it wouldn't be for long, they wouldn't notice surely.

They did notice, but the good thing was that it saved him from taking Cass home on his own.

She's nice too. He never had a sister (or brother too) before, but he likes her, she helps him find hide spots around the manor.

Who he doesn't like a bit is the baby. That Demon spawn.

First he appears out of nowhere. Second, he only seems to cry when someone is talking to Tim.

What is wrong with that thing.

He also follows him around for some reason, and grabs his shirt, but if Tim tries to look at him or hold him he cries. Really, what's wrong with this baby?

Like, sure, Bruce did have him by accident, and so did Tim's parents, but the fact that Damian's did want to keep him around and pay attention to him didn't give him any right to be like this.

It's not like he's better than them, B adopted them all out of a sense of duty.

Cass

Suddenly, communicating is a thing.

If she has something to say it's that she's happy. She got a baby brother, two actually. And a Big brother. And then a very baby brother.

And a Dad that loves her. And a granpa that feeds her anything she wants except for burgers. But dad buys her a burger in the secret if she tells him.

She likes spying on Big brother. She likes learning to read with baby brother big, and to hide with baby brother tiny.

She likes to stare at very baby brother. He stares back.

So everything is good.

She's happy.

Damian

Baby Damian tolerates his family. He let's Dick hug him, and Jason carry him around talking about who knows what until he falls sleep.

And gets into staring contests with Cass.

But the one he really likes is Tim. He likes to have his attention, and he doesn't like when he doesn't have it.

But he also doesn't like to fully have it, he gets overwhelmed.

Basically, baby Damian wants Tim's attention but not too much.

The family also makes a bet on who will make Damian laugh first.

They all lose when it's Tim, even Tim loses because he had all his money on Dick.

Because apparently, his presence comforts him when he misses Talia.

[lieutenantfloyd]

This is purely self indulgent but I can't stop thinking about Konig x modest! Reader.

Like he truthfully wouldn't think much of your appearance or anything at first. Because of his scars and such, he thinks it’s unfair to base his attractions to people based on their appearance. Konig truly only cares about his partners personally and how they treat him.

It's as you start to grow closer that he actually begins to notice the ways in which you’re different from others. It’s starts with him seeing how you you go out of your way to treat people with kindness. Then he notices how you avoid revealing and form fitting clothes when you take him shopping with you one afternoon. He admires how naturally these things come to you and how truthful you are to yourself despite what other people could think of you.

And if you veil (for religious reasons or otherwise) he thinks it's the absolute cutest thing in the world! His adoration towards you would also slowly change the way he thought about himself. Overtime he'd begin to see wearing his own mask as a sign of pride because it reminds him of you :)

At some point he’d complain about how hot he gets under his mask when he’s deployed in warmer climates. Because you have compiled a seperate modest wardrobe just for the summer time, you’d suggesting he try making a mask out of breathable fabrics like cotton or jersey.

This is how Konig becomes so interested in everything that goes into your outward appearance. If you’re getting ready for a outing together he’ll sit on your bed and watch you intently. He’ll have so many questions but he asks them with only the purest intentions. When he asks if you do a certain step in your routine for a specific purpose he expects a fully detailed response.

After doing some research on his own, he'll shyly ask you about your specific definition of modesty, and then confess how much he admires you and that he’d like you to help him become more modest too. He’d be overjoyed when you agree, and wants to begin everything immediately.

Due to your own experience with the male gaze/general public you're naturally very understanding of his privacy which means a lot to him. Ironically, he loves to take pictures of and with you, so long as his face is mostly obscured.

With his trauma from being bullied, he’ll grow really protective of you. Good luck to anyone who comments on your appearance/beliefs/morals, especially if they’re also in KORTAC. Because he’s travels all around the world, he always keeps his eyes peeled for clothing and accessories that you'd like. Due to his busy schedule you won’t hear from his often when he’s away on missions, but you will get random texts like "Look, Schatz! I found the perfect summer dress for you! I made sure it has perfect sleeves for you!!".

Speaking of which, Konig absolutely loves to coordinate outfits. He thinks it’s cute how put together you both look, with the added bonus of no one questioning if you’re single/who you’re with. Because of this he also comes to love dressing you up. He’ll raid your ever growing closet and meticulously plan outfits for you. Over time you you practically become his living doll.

He has major hang ups around social media, but he’ll create a Instagram/pinterest account (that he leaves blank) solely to find outfit inspiration for you both.

Takes up sewing, at first to help you mend any broken items you have but soon starts making his own garments because it’s hard to find clothes he likes to wear in his size. Oh, and If you get a new veil/head covering, he’ll insist that you buy two so he can turn one into his "everyday" mask :)

He also learns how modesty is so much more than just how you dress, and he commits himself to being a better, kinder person when he’s not in the field. He asks you to guide him through this while also (gently) holding him accountable when he messes up.

Overall Konig wants to become the man he thinks you deserve, and while he knows he’ll never be perfect he’s committed to trying his best. He'd be so soft with you and always wants you to feel very cared for :)

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 2

Part 2:

Tashi Duncan was a force. Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan. Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls. Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan. "Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class. "I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art). "Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually. "You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop. "Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention. "Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked. "I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-" "Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second. "You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend. "Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out. "You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her. "You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.

Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol. "The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible. "I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him. "I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself. "I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult. "Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice. "That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great. "Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship. "Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis. "Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around. "Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line. "Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go. "I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense. "Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down. "Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.

Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life. "Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness. "What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him. "How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt. "Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious. "My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed. "Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again. "Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day. "I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there. "You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own. "Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle. "I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly. "How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice. "Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."

sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️

[eitaababe]

KISS IT BETTER !

ao'nung x metkayina reader.

a/n — sorry guys it's been a reallyyy rough past few days some shit has gone down but here's a lil drabble while i finish a fic 🫶 / also they're like 18 in this for sake of plot !

—

To say you and Ao'nung didn't get along would be an understatement.

You two always argued, no matter how little or how big. From the way your hair was done, to who couldn't hold their breath as long, who was better on an ilu, you name it.

Though, despite you not being able to see eye to eye with him, you were always close with his younger sister. You were attached to the hip ever since children, and you spent practically your whole lives with each other, pretty much growing up together. You also grew close with her family, spending many dinners over at her marui.

So of course, you always had to see her brother.

Tsireya wasn't blind. Pretty much anyone could see the way you two acted around each other. And if they couldn't see it, they could certainly hear it. There wasn't a minute you could be in the same vicinity as each other and not throw insults at each other.

However, nobody really knows how or why you're like that. It's almost as if you were born into the world and just decided to hate each other.

And so you're sitting in between Tsireya's legs, her doing a new hairstyle for your hair and you whining about her brother once more. "I just don't get it," you complained, huffing in annoyance. "He really thinks he can insult me with a face like that! 'You'll never be able to get a boyfriend looking like that, y/n'," you gruffly mimicked, inaccurately impersonating his voice. "As if he's any better! Like you're the one who can't keep a girlfriend. He's projecting, I'm telling you."

Pulling extra tight on a certain braid you yelped, glaring over your shoulder. "Y/n, you seriously have a problem," Tsireya stated, sighing. "I mean if you really hate my brother so much, just don't talk to him. You both are around each other a lot for people who claim to hate each other so much."

"It's not my fault!" You quickly replied. "I swear, he's everywhere. I want to go clear my mind and go for a swim? He's already there. I want to feed the ilus? Apparently he was planning on going on a ride. I want to stop by and have dinner with my best friend? He-"

"Lives there, Y/n. He lives there," Tsireya finished for you. "I'm just saying. He may be my brother, but if he pisses you off that much you don't have to talk to him. He's good at riling people up. Especially you." She commented, finishing your hair and patting your shoulder lightly for you to turn around.

"He could piss anyone off with the things he says," You grumbled, shoulders drooping when you fell under Tsireya's disapproving gaze. "Fine. I'll try to not let him get to me. Starting now."

"Oh that's lovely, because he's right behind you."

"What-"

"Hi sister," he paused, eyes glancing to you in distaste. "Y/n."

"Ao'nung." You acknowledged him blandly, trying to take your friend's advice and not be disturbed by his mere presence.

"Mother wants you home for dinner," He continued, letting out a sigh before going on. "They invited you too." He finished, not sparring a glance your way before turning around and walking back.

"That went better than expected." Tsireya grinned, grabbing your arm and taking you to her own marui.

"Wait until dinner."

Dinner was going better than expected. You and Ao'nung hadn't argued yet, considering you chose to ignore him and he did the same. Your parents had joined the dinner as well, so you had no other choice but to be respectful.

Your calm nature soon disappeared as you heard the words coming from your parents mouths.

"What?" You exclaimed in disbelief, Tsireya sitting next to you with a shocked expression.

"Really, we think it's for the best."

"No offense or anything, but have you met Ao'nung? I can barely stay in the same room with him, nevertheless spend the rest of my life with him!" You complained, ignoring the stern looks from your parents. "It won't work. Me and Ao'nung, we don't work well together."

"For once, I agree." The boy finally spoke, not looking up from the table.

"Y/n, Ao'nung, I know this is unexpected, but we've all talked about it. You would make a great mate for Ao'nung. We'd like you two to be mated soon before Ao'nung chooses a girl us or the clan would not approve of."

You noticed how his jaw clenched at the comment, yet he stayed silent. You closed your eyes, trying to accept your fate. When you both fell silent, everyone got up and started to exit the room. "We'll give you two some privacy."

You watched as they all left out the marui, turning towards the male. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's my mother, I doubt anything I would've said would have made a difference."

"Of course it would! You're her son!"

"You're just so stubborn, aren't you?" Ao'nung suddenly shouted, standing up now. "Thinking you can have everything your way? We have duties, y/n. Grow up."

"Clearly, I'm the only one who's thinking rationally right now! How can you be willing to spend the rest of your life with someone you can't stand?"

"Well like it or not, it's happening. Deal with it, because you're not going to change our parents' minds."

"I can't believe you," you scoffed. "I hope they don't expect me to love you. I can't see who would." You walked out furiously, stomping back towards your own marui.

"Oh, you're one to talk!"

The next few days you two kept your separate ways, but both of you knew your parents wouldn't let it stay like that. They'd practically set up a date for you guys, claiming it's so you could 'settle the feud'.

So you woke up, already in a bad mood, putting minimal effort into getting ready. You headed outside your marui, grumbling what sounded like a farewell to your parents, blood boiling at the sight of the boy who was waiting for you on the beach.

"Y/n." He gruffly greeted you, not meeting your eye.

"Ao'nung." You acknowledged him back, mind drifting back to the other night. Were you too harsh with your words? It was possible you could've gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, and if you were forced to spent the rest of your life with him, you should at least try to be civil.

"...how are you?" You inwardly cringed at yourself, making an awkward attempt to make conversation.

He sent a questioning look your way, realizing what you were doing. He almost wanted to laugh at how out of place you looked. He decided to play along, for whatever reason. "Okay. You?"

"I'm good."

The both of you didn't talk much for the rest of the day, but you didn't argue either, so maybe you were showing signs of improvement. You walked along the beach quietly, the occasional tight-lipped smile, or a hum in response to one of your or his attempts to make some small talk.

Your hangouts usually went like that, you'd greet each other and walk, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You were too scared to say anything about it, or change the newly made routine, until Ao'nung seemingly had enough.

"Y/n," he sighed out tiredly, stopping and turning to face you fully. "This isn't helping us at all. All we're trying to do is not argue every time we're around each other. We're not fixing anything, hell, we're probably making it worse. Even if we can't love each other, shouldn't we be able to get to know one another?"

You stood silent for a moment, considering his offer. "I hate it when you're right," you deadpanned, dropping the 'nice' act. "It's just so irregular. Why would I want to be stuck with you?"

"Cmon, I struck peace and you're insulting me?" He teased, flashing a rare grin to you.

"Stop smiling, people are gonna start thinking you want to be around me." You told him, walking off.

Ao'nung went after you, chuckling to himself. "I won't make it a habit then!"

To everyone's surprise, you were finally starting to get along. You acted like friends, even if neither of you would necessarily admit it. You were spending your time with Tsireya, deeming you'd spent too much time with her brother.

"I can't believe I actually saw you smiling in the vicinity of Ao'nung." She teased, laughing once you rolled your eyes.

"Oh shut up. We're basically going to be with each other for eternity, we had to stop hating each other at some point."

"He was talking about you the other day at dinner, actually. If I didn't know any better I'd say he's taken a liking to you."

"Absolutely not!" You denied, shaking your head. "We're not like that. Like at all. We're just friends now, okay? We don't see each other that way."

"Whatever you say."

What the two of you didn't notice, however, was that the boy heard the two of you talking, heart slightly sinking. Could you really not tell how he felt?

And oddly enough, he felt even more determined to prove how he did.

To your shock, Ao'nung started making advances towards you during your scheduled hang outs. They were subtle, but you noticed the slight flirting, or how his touch would linger on you longer than usual.

You didn't think much of it however, considering you just went from enemies to friends in the span of maybe two weeks. You were right to do so, when you spotted him with another girl one day.

When you first saw them, you really could've cared less. Ao'nung was popular, and knew many people. If he had friends who were girls, it didn't matter. Everyone knew you were each others promised mates, and the word quickly spread since people knew of your dislike for each other.

You trusted Ao'nung, he was not only your betrothed but your duties were to each other, and he wasn't dumb enough to try and change that.

At least you thought.

Their second interaction, you saw the same girl, Mau. She was a sweet girl, you knew her through Tsireya. You watched quietly from afar as the two talked animatedly, large smiles and their laughter heard from where you stood. You hid behind a smaller palm tree, it's leaves shielding you from their view.

You couldn't quite hear what their conversation was, so you settled for just watching. You were shocked when she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and how he turned purple in response. You denied how you felt your heart drop to your stomach, and deemed that their conversation should be private and hurried to leave.

In the midst of rushing out you accidentally walked right into one of the leaves, your lip getting cut in the process. "Oh, fuck." You cursed underneath your breath, hoping no one could see you leave. You sprinted away to another part of the beach, moving over to the marui near the ilus.

Ao'nung squinted his eyes at the sight of someone running away, thinking it oddly resembled you. A wave of adrenaline quickly hit him when he realized you might have seen Mau, and he jumped up in panic. "I'm so sorry, I have to go." He excused himself, rushing after you.

He found you with the ilus, smiling when he heard you talking nonsense to them. He cleared his throat, "You seriously have got to make some new friends."

You froze at his voice, almost turning around but realizing he'd see the wound on your lip. You stayed in place, back turned to him as you kept feeding the creatures. "Don't be salty I have more friends than you, even if they can't talk."

"In your dreams, hun," He teased, sitting down next to you, confused when you turned away from him. Concerned, and a little scared you saw his previous interaction, his head followed yours, trying to meet your eyes. "What's wrong?"

You pursed your lips, turning around and eyes widening when you realized how close his face was to yours. Afraid of talking and showing him your cut you only shrugged, shaking your head.

"Why are you holding your lips like that?" He questioned, making you hot with panic. "It makes you look even more stupid."

"Oh just shut up." You mumbled, figuring there was no way out of this. You lowered your head, but not before he could see your wound.

"What happened?"

You really just wanted to let the ocean swallow you whole.

"I ran into a tree."

"While eavesdropping?" He laughed, seeing the way your head quickly perked up, the caught look on your face.

"I didn't- I mean-"

"Oh don't worry, I know you were just questioning my loyalty. I mean with a face like this, there's loads of girls after me. Had to break many hearts knowing I was promised to you."

"Keep telling yourself that. And if I was testing your loyalty, you definitely failed. Not that I mind, but who lets other girls kiss them when they're promised to someone else?"

"If you're jealous, just say that," he simply shrugged, smirking at you. "I turned Mau down, by the way. Told her I was already to be mated with another."

"Oh," you couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. "Your parents will be happy to hear that."

Rolling his eyes at your ability to not take a hint, he only sighed. "Yeah, sure."

Ao'nung then refocused on your lips, looking at the cut. "You know, we should really do something about that."

"It doesn't hurt that much."

"You should let me kiss it better."

"What?" You exclaimed, looking at him incredulously.

"You heard me."

Not bothering to hear your response his lips pressed against yours gently, in fear of making the cut any worse. His hand came to rest against your jaw as his lips moved slowly. You felt him smile against you before he quickly pecked your lips again, pulling away with a smug look. "Feel any better?"

"I'm not sure, you might have to kiss it better again."

—

a/n — I FINALLY POSTED AGAIN. WRITERS BLOCK IS A BITCH.

[secriden]

so. lets talk about an unhappily married rich tai tai!tongrak and bodyguard!mahasamut au

Note: tai tai (太太) is slang for a trophy wife of a rich man who doesn't work and lives a life of luxury. (think Desperate Housewives types)

(inspired by this inexplicably TVB drama-esque fortpeat photoshoot and a feverish exchange yesterday with @williamrikers):

tongrak winds up being arranged marriage off as a child to the son of another rich family (something like lian/kuea in cutie pie, but minus any actual feelings/history). tongrak's family is new money rich and not as established but his husband-to-be is from one of those old money practically royalty families and MUCH wealthier. tongrak decides to uphold the agreement once he's of age cuz it'll help his family establish their business too and and he doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life anyway. so he gets married right out of university to his fiance who is. fine. you know, fairly handsome and decent in bed and stuff. tongrak can't complain.

so things are just normal and honestly kind of boring and tongrak spends most of his days shopping or hanging out with connor and vie when they're not busy or writing for fun. he likes writing a lot, and his husband allows him to indulge in his hobby although he's told in no uncertain terms that he can never try to get published because that wouldn't be a 'good look' for the company.

but over the years his husband grows increasingly controlling, needing to know where tongrak is at all times, limiting his time with his friends (especially connor), and growing more and more jumpy and paranoid as if he thinks someone is after him.

things come to a head one day when their house is broken into. the invaders use tongrak to threaten his husband (he gets a smacked around a bit) and this is how tongrak finds about the secret safe, and the shady business partners, and the fact that their entire fortune is now tied up in some very risky business ventures with loose ties to the mafia. (like they're still rich af but if things go wrong the whole company could crumble like a house of cards)

tongrak is furious. husband tells him he'll handle things, orders him to be silent. threatens to go after his sister and mother if tongrak goes to the authorities. so tongrak has no choice but to keep quiet, but he demands that he gets to find a personal bodyguard and insists that he gets to choose him personally.

enter: mahasamut. tongrak finds out about him through connor, and mahasamut agrees to move from the island to Bangkok to bodyguard for a truly insane amount of money because why not? (connor doesn't tell tongrak that mahasamut had refused the job until he'd sent him tongrak's picture) ((for the purposes of this story, mahasamut's has a vague military background))

at first, tongrak and mahasamut don't exactly get along because mahasamut is cocky and sarcastic and rude and pushes all of tongrak's buttons. (he's also so fucking sexy and tongrak finds himself waking up to wet sheets for the first time since his literal teenage years. he starts something with his husband but although they both come tongrak still feels like something was missing).

the 2nd time their home is invaded, the husband isn't around and mahasamut manages to fight off the 3 men sent to their home who were suppose to beat tongrak up as a warning to his husband. who is evidently Not Handling It.

in the aftermath, tongrak is very shaken and at one point had gotten cut because one of the thugs had shattered a glass cabinet which triggered a flashback of his memories of his abusive father. mahasamut winds up talking him down from his panic attack (although the invaders manage to escape while mahasamut's attentions are on tongrak), and holding tongrak until he stops shaking.

things thaw considerably between them. mahasamut is so incredibly gentle with tongrak over the next few days and keeps trying to cheer him up/distract him from his worries cuz he gets super jumpy. they go on cute grocery shopping dates outings so mahasamut can cook for him. tongrak also delights in watching mahasamut try all the fancy fusion food you can only find in Bangkok. he tells mahasamut about his writing and mahasamut asks to read some of his work and tells him what he likes about his stories and tongrak's never felt so seen in his life.

husband comes home from his business trip and tongrak and he have a huge yelling match where husband dismisses tongrak's fear because "nothing really happened to you, you're fine" and keeps insisting he just "needs more time to sort things out" and "stop being such a drama queen about this".

(mahasamut stands outside the room, fists clenched, feet rooted in place. he knows he can't do anything but the way tongrak's voice breaks with his tears nearly makes him reach for the door.)

husband goes on another business trip and tongrak says fuck it. he doesn't feel safe in his home, so he asks mahasamut if they can go visit his island. husband is displeased but can't really find a good reason to say no to the request, so tongrak books the flights and the private yacht and mashsamut watches in fond amusement as tongrak packs his bag with completely unpractical cothes - all silk and velvet tops and leather and corduroy pants with silver buckles.

(mahasamut secretly packs a much more practical set of clothes in his own bag for tongrak: shorts and light cotton shirts and hey if he adds a few of the semi-translucent shirts he loves on tongrak that's his business.)

the island is truly paradise, and tongrak is able to forget the whole mess of the situation with the business and his husband. mahasamut takes him out to sea, teaches him how to free dive and shows him all the secret places only the locals know. talks about how much he loves the island and its people and how greedy corporations are starting to slowly choke the life out if the land. opens up about his father and how he's learned to be strong because he never had anyone to rely on. how he's learned to embrace violence so he'd have the power to choose gentleness.

when tongrak leans forward and kisses him, it feels inevitable. it feels like fate.

[explicit stuff under the cut]

what are we doing? tongrak thinks, even as he goes pliant under mahasamut's hands, licks his fingertips, before sucking them into his mouth.

where is this going? mahasamut wonders, as he watches tongrak sink down on his cock, pretty pretty lips caught between teeth as they both gasp for air.

i'm going to keep you. tongrak vows, as he presses his fingers against the red marks littered across his collarbones and lets himself fall back into masasamut's endlessly warm embrace.

(they don't talk about it, even though they probably should. but tongrak doesn't know what he can promise, and mahasamut is too afraid to reach for too much only to watch tongrak slip entirely from his fingers.)

they fuck like animals for the week they spend on the island, learning each other's bodies inside and out. tongrak has a series of discoveries about himself and his body that has him questioning how he could have lived in his passionless marriage for the past 10 years.

the days leading up to their return to Bangkok are hard. tongrak hates watching the marks mahasamut left on his skin slowly fade again. mahasamut starts marking him with his come instead - on his chest, his lips, his cock, his hole; rubbed into his skin like an invisible promise. it's not enough, but it helps; settles tongrak inside his skin just a little bit so that he can bear going home.

returning home isn't easy, and once-familiar spaces feel like strangers; tongrak cannot recognise himself anymore in the rich tapestries and ostentatious furniture. he feels hallowed out, like mahasamut dug into his core and then put him back together wholly differently.

he hates that he has to be careful now. he can't touch mahasamut, can't allow his eyes to linger too long for fear that his husband's servants will report to their master that tongrak's been unfaithful. he knows, now, that his husband can be cruel, that he has ties to people who can make mahasamut disappear and suddenly tongrak's gained a slew of new nightmares overnight.

his husband's hands feel like brands on his skin. he can't refuse, because he has no reason to; tongrak's never refused sex before, so it would be too obvious if he suddenly starts now. but its torture and tongrak hates the splintered look of pain in mahasamut's eyes the morning after his husband returns home.

the night after his husband leaves again, tongrak lays awake until 3 in the morning, waiting for the house to fall completely silent around him. he sneaks his way to mahasamut's room, crawls into his bed, lets mahasamut kiss away his silent tears and quiet his frantic apologies; lets mahasamut make love to him until dawn begins to break. when mahsamut comes inside him, something fundamental slots back into place.

it's mahasamut that breaks the silence. eyes wide, shoulders hunched - its the smallest tongrak has ever seen mahasamut and it pulls something sharp inside his ribs.

i think i'm in love with you, mahasamut tells him, and tongrak has to stifle his sobs in his fist.

(the servants are waking up soon, he has to go, but this matters. this matters.)

i love you too, he whispers back and the way the first rays of the sun break on the smile on mahasamut's lips makes tongrak's breath catch inside his chest.

when tongrak sneaks back into his room, barely settling under the covers before one of the maids knocks on his door to 'wake' him up he feels settled in his skin in a way he never has before. he doesn't have an answer yet, but he will.

something has to give, and for the warmth of mahasamut's arms and the desperation in his kisses, tongrak will find a way.

[svltzmans]

fiona gallagher nsfw headcanons

warnings: smut 18+ (duh), fiona is kinda kinky lowkey, but it makes sense, just stick with me, this is unedited it's just a compilation of my fiona thoughts, i hope y'all don't mind lmao

fiona is possessive in the bedroom, and she shows it in a lot of different ways

she loves to be dominant with you, and she knows you love it just as much

she would be straddling you, leaning down to kiss you

and she'd pull out a pair of handcuffs from the bedside table

"fi, what are you doing?"

"shh, just gotta make sure you behave, yeah?"

something about seeing you restrained is a huge turn on for fiona

and she loves to tease, especially when she knows you can't do anything about it

she would cuff you to the bed, making sure the key was far out of your reach

and she'd start stripping, just far enough away that you can do nothing but watch

you'd start squirming, trying to find any way out

"the longer you can stay still, the sooner you can touch me"

fiona loves hearing you beg

anything she can do to elicit a beg from you, she will

she'd even go as far as to start touching herself in front of you

not stopping until you convince her to let you do it yourself

and she'd be sure to show how good she's feeling

"'s a shame y-you can't do this for me baby... would feel even better"

she'd tantalize you this way until she was satisfied with your begging

"god, fiona, just please let me touch, wanna touch"

when fiona finally retrieves the key, you practically pounce on her

and she's still cocky, being all like

"gonna use that mouth for something else other than begging now, pretty?"

but she's never quite ready for what exactly you're going to do with your mouth

but she never complains

in fact, she loves the feeling she gets after she's had too many orgasms to think straight

with you between her legs for hours, never letting up

"m'gonna cum again sweetheart, keep doing that"

"can't do anymore y/n, can't, oh god"

as much as fiona likes dominating you, she also loves relinquishing control

you easily make a mess of her, and she loves it

especially when she's about to hit her third or fourth orgasm

and you pull away completely, looking up at her with doe eyes

"no god y/n, don't, was so close," is all she can manage

"thought it was getting too much, baby?" you'd respond, running a finger up and down her sensitive pussy

"more," she'd insist, writhing under your touch

there's a lot of role reversal in your sex life with fiona

and it's endlessly exciting for both of you

fiona would absolutely be up for trying new things, she considers herself pretty sexually experimental

toys? she's all for it. new kink? she'll try anything once (and usually will like it)

the only thing she probably wouldn't try is threesomes or sex with multiple people in general

(again, possessive)

she usually lets you take the lead as far as new things to try

but she definitely has fantasies of her own that she brings to the table

she would absolutely want you to take her with a strap, i don't make the rules though

she also likes the thought of mutual masturbation

like watching you get yourself off?

she's obsessed

she definitely has blurted out "sit on my face" during a makeout session before

and you were like ???

but lord knows you took the opportunity lmao

[junedenim]

2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about. 

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

*

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

*

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

*

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

*

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet. 

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit. 

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward. 

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

*

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

*

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either). 

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

*

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day. 

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too. 

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

*

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls." 

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university. 

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way. 

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

*

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

[nevertheless-moving]

Stormlight Archive AU Number 9, Words of Radiance

In an attempt to ruin the reputation of the only kholin with decent social standing, illai sadeas manufactures a rumor that adolin is fucking the new dark eyed slave captain of the guard.

Double social whammy for a) getting with someone filthy and beneath his station and b) dishonorably taking advantage of poor slave boy

At this point adolin and kaladin straight up don't like each other but the sideye can be read many ways and any attempts to discourage rumors only make them stronger. Brightlady Sadeas got 20 ex girlfriends swearing that adolin has a fetish for dark eyed men. She's got 40 different people prepared to take a vow that they walked in on the two together. The evidence is so compelling that adolin is starting to be convinced.

By the time the first assassin in white fight rolls around adolin's pretty much given up on denial and started trying to get bridgeboy to at least dress better. Bridgeboy is still fighting the accusations and wardrobe with the dignity and demeanor of a feral axecat.

Shallan rolls in, still very much desperate to make the causal happen. Ok. She can work with this.

Starts laying down hints like she can't entirely fault his taste, she just prefers her woman less grumpy. Oh, did I say women? Talks very dreamily about working under - working with Jasnah, how beautiful she was in the bath - (this is a shockingly easy lie. Pattern complains there's too much truth mixed in, whatever that means).

Adolin is somewhat left with the impression that Jasnah and her had a... dalliance, which wasn't quite Shallan's intent.

Adolin does not know what to do with this information.

He makes one solid, nearly successful effort to convince her that the rumors were manufactured, bridgeboy and him don't even like one another. Then the whitespine uncaged fight happens and people are like damn.

Kaladin out there discrediting anyone who thinks there's some unwillingness on his end while simultaneously raising the bar for boyfriends everywhere. You wish you had a man who would fight four SHARDBARERS unarmed for you.

Opinion around camp flips from 'nasty affair' to 'glorious warbond.' Sure it's with a jumped up darkeyes, but...

Alethi storming love a glorious warbond.

General opinion on the amaram boon thing was that it was a bungled attempt to get another set of shards

Adolin's Prison Solidarity is really the nail in the coffin. He figures he'll try and convince Shallan after they're married and he is decidedly still not sleeping with bridgeboy. Assuming that doesn't happen. Not that he wants it to! Though if Kaladin were interested, haha jk. Unless...

Adolin: He was really hot during the duel. And well, he has to at least like me, right? Why would he jump in the arena if he didn't like me even a little.

Renarin: It's all going to end...

Adolin: you know what, you're right! Life is too short for regrets! And shallan's practically given us her blessing! I should at the very least try, right?

Renarin: a storm is coming

Adolin: thanks Renarin, I'll talk with him after this expedition. There really is...something about him.

Then the expedition! It Does not go well! Adolin genuinely thinking he's cursed, watched two whole love interests plummet to their deaths. Next several days are Not Good.

Meanwhile in the chasms:

Shallan: I mean his pectorals are...I suppose you've seen them closer up than I have. Do you think you could describe them in better detail? Does his sweat taste different when it runs down his back as opposed to his chest?

Kaladin: this. This is hell, right? I'm in hell.

Stormlight AU Masterlist

[mymegrokosmos]

coffee dates with seungkwan are your favourite. he's always late but it gives you the chance to take your time, lingering on the menu and finding a nice table where you can watch the people walking by. you like sitting on the patio. partly because it gives your boyfriend the freedom to be as loud as he wants while he vents about his day and fills you in on any new drama happening on set. partly because it's usually a good way to get him to sit closer or to end up bundled into his sweater or jacket.

you can’t complain. well, you could but why would you want to? the view is nice and he always pays. one thing about dating boo seungkwan is that you're absolutely spoiled. you get the princess treatment every day and you couldn’t feel luckier.

"y/n, love?"

you blink at the sound of your name, turning from where you were watching a cute little dachshund in a sweater to find your boyfriend hovering over you. he stands beside your chair, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you push away your thoughts, sweep away the mind cobwebs of whatever daydream you were stuck in for a minute, and smile up at him.

"hi kwannie, have you been there long?"

he shakes his head, sliding into his seat across the small table from you and trying to see what you're looking at. you laugh softly and nod towards the puppy.

"cute, right? look at his little boots."

seungkwan just shakes his head but he's smiling as he picks up the iced americano you ordered for him, using his card of course because he sulks every time you try to pay for coffee on your own delivery or order ahead apps.

"a little silly but I guess it's probably practical."

you nod, sipping your iced latte. "mm, I imagine a lot of things are much harder and more inconvenient when you're that small living in a world made for much bigger beings and you can't even speak to them about it. not in a way that we understand well at least."

your boyfriend just blinks at you. "I've left you alone with Dino and Vernon too often."

you rest your chin on one hand and blink back at him. "and what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

"you're spewing scenarios other people would never think of because you're bored. there are so many people you could be watching right now and instead you decided that, while waiting for the love of your life to arrive and grace you with the blessing that is his presence, you wanted to wonder what it would be like to live as a dachshund for day."

you considered this. "okay, fair point. however, I stand by my decision. it was fun."

seungkwan sips his coffee. you smile.

"how was your day handsome?"

and just like that, you fall into easy conversation. the words always flow with seungkwan. the rhythm is soothing, familiar, and when he gets up to drape his sweater over your shoulder after you shiver one too many times (one, that's already too many in his mind why are you even cold to begin with the weather should just immediately conform to your every whim frankly) it feels like home.

you smile, slipping your arms through the sleeves of the thick hoodie and snuggling into the leftover warmth of seungkwan's body. it smells like him, clean, sharp, citrus and a hint of something slightly woodsy. you blush when you glance up to meet his fond gaze, eyes soft as he watches you with a small smile.

"what?"

he shakes his head and takes another sip of his coffee. "nothing, you're just cute."

you scrunch your nose up at him and he laughs. you sip your drink and stretch your legs out, foot just brushing his ankle before you sit back again.

"ready to head home?"

he nods. "we're still on for dinner together, right? and a movie? I already told jeonghan hyung to clear out for the evening."

you nod, smiling as he offers you a hand up. "mm, you know we are. that sounds perfect. please tell me you're making those mimosas you tried out last week?"

his hand moves to rest on your lower back, guiding you back through the restaurant and out into the world again. you lean into him as you cross the street, head resting against his shoulder just slightly as you walk close enough to bump hips every few steps. neither of you moves to fix that. you just smile and let it happen.

"i'm making pizza, mingyu helped me prepare it all ready to pop in the oven when we get back. I just need to preheat it first and use that pizza stone he got us for Christmas."

"ooh what kind of pizza."

"I hope you like margherita."

you nod. "that sounds perfect kwan."

and it is. domestic seungkwan is one of your favourite sides of him. you like when he gets to relax like this. seeing him in comfy clothing, bare faced and with his hair all fluffy from running his hands through it. you sip your drink and watch as he shuffles around the kitchen, humming along to the playlist he put on and you move to light some candles.

it gets dark so early in autumn and while his apartment gets great light, his walls of windows can't compensate for a sun already fully sunken on the horizon. you find yourself smiling as he puts the pizza in the oven and sets the timer, reaching over to pull you into him and spinning you both around the kitchen.

you just watch as he sings to you, swaying with him as you dance to the rest of the song before stilling. his hands rest comfortably on your hips, like they belong there. they do, you think so at least. his expression is soft again, happy, and you can't help leaning up to kiss him.

"what was that for?"

you mirror his words from earlier. "you're just cute."

he sighs. "what am I going to do with you darling?"

you grin. "keep me, I hope."

and just like that you fall into the arms, and charms, of the one and only boo seungkwan. yet again. like you always do. because there's nothing that melts your heart quite like the smile on his face and the sparkle in those eyes. his happiness is truly the most beautiful thing you've ever witnessed, and you want nothing more than to keep being a part of it for as long as he'll let you share in this. in these moments.

in this laughter. in this lifetime of soft, safe, warm, genuine love. the kind no one ever warns you is addicting. the kind that doesn't judge. okay so maybe a little bit. but it's worth all the hard moments, every fight or argument, every little speed bump you have to overcome on the way. it's all worth it when you get to come home to this.

unconditional love, thy name is boo seungkwan and thou art everything.