#hes standing in between an attractive guy and gal

[kazperthegh0st]

If the background isa pride flag its canon…

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Can I ask for your reasoning behind the Jake and Vriska pairing? This isn't out of hate or anything i am just very curious

3/4 of the alpha kids are IMMEDIATELY introduced with "btw, here's the dead troll you're supposed to date".

Your name is ROXY. God DAMN do you love WIZARDS. (Editor's Note: also Princes. A Prince who is also a wizard? Holy shit.)

So he made a couple of coy recommendations for objects of your attraction, and you have hung his COBALT BEEFCAKES here since. He was pretty spot on with the blue Funke, to be honest, since that's like the best show ever. Mr. Cross can blue himself any time, as far as you are concerned. [...] There is also your magnificent SWANSON. Ron Swanson is the PERFECT MAN.

And Jake's is the most blatant, in my opinion:

But who needs chums, when you can enjoy a top notch gander of your GALS OF CERULEAN COMPLEXION, HUBBA HUBBA. You are oft-times the recipient of a good ribbing from Jane on account of your peculiar fascination with blue movie ladies. You don't have to justify yourself to her though. What is even her deal? Any fella would be off his ROCKER not to fawn over all these BODACIOUS BLUE KNOCKOUTS. You want to make out with all of them. Dear, sweet Neytiri from James Cameron's Avatar. Oh, if only you were the one who could have overcome his paralysis on an alien adventure planet to become her boyfriend, instead of that other guy. Then she could have shown you how to be bold and courageous, and stand up to fight for your people, and maybe later, engage in a bizarre extraterrestrial reproductive process involving ponytails, and a magical tree you guess?

So for those keeping score, Roxy and Eridan, Jane and Equius (moment of silence), and Jake and Vriska. It's further proven by how stunningly hot he finds Aranea, who is a dead ringer for Vriska, and further supported by the fact that Jake is very much Vriska's type - she has a weird red, vascillatory thing for Tavros, and briefly dates John. Tavros is a Page, and John shares many genetic personality similarities with Jake, his ecto-grandpa. Honestly, if I were to distill down Vriska's taste in guys into one single person, it would just be Jake.

And yeah, I know that he and Vriska basically have nothing going on between them post-retcon, but I only consider everything after Game Over to be soft canon anyway, since by that point it's clear that Hussie has no intention of finishing Homestuck the way it was originally intended to end (there are way too many dangling plot threads, many of the choices - especially revolving around Vriska - seem genuinely aimed to make as much of the fandom upset as possible, and the tone and themes swerve wildly from their original trajectories in a way that feels rushed and incongruous). Pre-Retcon, the comic is gunning HARD for red Vriska/Jake endgame, and I put more weight on that than post-retcon's weird personality-regressed Vriska.

So I am specifically talking about post-character-development Vriska and Jake - Vriska who's had her feelings jams with John, proper apology and reconciliation with Aradia, Sollux, and Tavros, and is in a stable moirallegiance - Vriska who no longer feels the need to be such a massive bitch all the time and isn't trying to solo the game and steal the spotlight. Vriska at her best would probably be really healthy for him - Jake clearly enjoys a challenge much more than Tavros (though not enough to work well with Dirk), and Vriska clearly has a thing for goofy little failboys. It's not gay but not everything can be a W for us fujos, sadly.

[saintsenara]

Severus and James have a weird connection with each other.

Lily: Mulciber and Avery are bad people that terrorize the school with their bigotry.

Severus: yes, but Potter is Shit!

Lily ; Mulciber used dark magic on Mary

Severus: yes, but potter is shit

Lily: Potter helped you out on that night !

Severus: yes, BUT HE’S STILL SHIT !

Lily: potter is shit, but I don’t like your friends Severus. They worry me.

Severus : you think he’s shit too 🥺

———————-

James: *finally the love of my life likes me back*

James: where is Snivellus ?

James: *Lily doesn’t want me to be a bully to others anymore*

James : that does not include Snivellus

James: *becomes quidditch captain and headboy*

James: I still need to bully Snivellus

—————-

I think they’re water and oil. Severus receives high grades and works hard to excel academically. But his social standing stands in the way of being respected. He sees the marauders, a tight knit group of friends that are having the time of their lives at Hogwarts. Two out of four rich and considered attractive. Doing so much shit and they don’t get reprimanded. They’re still liked by their peers and professors.

For James, he’s spoilt and probably seldomly hears no (if so, he has his way of getting a yes ). then comes this guy, a slytherin, unattractive, not popular, not from a big family, that actually has the gal to fight back. He tells Lily that he bully’s Severus for “the fact that he exists”.

The interaction between Severus and the other Marauders is incredibly interesting. He fears Lupin, which Remus knows and acts indifferently (tho I highly suspects that he likes poking Severus). Peter, Severus doesn’t even give him the time of day. As for Sirius, they’re always one step away from a full blown battle.

I have a feeling that James and Severus searched each other up. Rotating in a weird sadistic game of hurting each other. Man I really want to see a scene with adult James and Severus. If watching Sirius and Severus interact feels like the fire sizzling under the firework, James and Severus are the firework. Oh the joy of reading that 😍.

Typing this out, I wonder if Severus was incredibly gullible and naive as a teen. Lily is worried about the war and Mulciber/ Avery, but Severus focuses on Potter. Other than his dislike for Muggle, you don’t see his stances on muggleborns. He enables Mulciber and Avery, but I wonder if that is because of his believes or that’s just his personality. He still thinks kindly of Lily, while many would have dropped their friend if they married their childhood bully. He never tells Lily to stop being friends with people that questions her friendship with him, again many would be weirded out by that. This might read as me thinking too kindly of Snape. I probably am, but I do think forming a friendship is key in understanding a character and for that there needs to be a certain softness.

Severus is considered the perfect henchman by both Dumbledore and Voldemort. Lucious Malfoy keeps a very close relationship with him, and his son (Draco) is close to him and admires/respects him. I think Severus needs/wants a very strong male figure in his life. A competent father he never had, or a protective brother.

In the story he is tight to two mothers, Lily and Narcissa. Both defy Voldemort for their sons. Sirius and Remus protect Harry for James, but Severus solely for Lily.

I don’t know how all of this ties together, but Severus is a character in an interesting place when it comes to his relationships with other men and woman in his live.

I also have no idea where James comes into all of this. But they do have a strange obsession with one another.

controversially, anon, i don't entirely back this.

i've never been a massive fan of jeverus/snames/whatever we're calling it because it never strikes me as having any particularly interesting spark.

whereas sirius and snape have an inherent push and pull by virtue of being narrative mirrors, the tension between snape and james depends to such an extent on them competing over lily that changing that dynamic by making the two of them attracted to each other often flops.

[snape's hatred of james' superior social position and the fact that he's never punished for his troublemaking is because of lily - because he thinks she's being misled into thinking james is lovely and this will allow james to lure her away from him - for example, rather than being directed at james himself. snape's hatred of sirius is entirely focused on sirius himself.]

the toxic triad - on the other hand - slaps.

on the other points, the thing which is really interesting about snape's teenage naivety is that it almost manages to be correct. i've said this before, but he's clearly the death eater who comes closest to understanding that voldemort has no interest in upholding the wizarding world's entrenched class system [whereas regulus black - for example - thinks that the dark lord intends to usher in pureblood oligarchy] and that what he primarily cares about - to paraphrase the man himself - is power and those strong enough to seek it.

[and a lot of his dynamic with narcissa is shaped by this - narcissa clearly cottons on, well before draco and lucius, to the fact that voldemort has no intention of elevating the malfoys to quasi-royal heights...]

snape evidently views voldemort not only as his long-awaited male role model, but as his ticket to breaking through the barriers which his name, blood status, and class background set up for him in a world so obsessed with lineage and networking - and he's not wrong to.

he's also - and this is where his naivety comes into play - clearly convinced that voldemort will offer lily the same opportunities. the implication of canon is very much that he's prepared to look the other way about the fact that voldemort's violence specifically targets muggleborns [and, above all, that voldemort doesn't regard lily as an exception to his usual rule about muggleborns] until he literally can't look the other way any longer...

[blocked-zombieartist]

Part 2 of my TIG fanfic. Thinking of calling it “Racetracks and Revelry”

It’s a short piece today, guys, gals, and in-between/non-binary pals. Sorry. The inspo didn’t flow well in the time span.🫤

 Avery stifled a laugh out of pity when Grayson stepped out of Daybreak after his five laps. Jameson didn’t bother stifling anything. He was doubled over, guffawing at Grayson’s shaken and possibly sick expression. Even Ashlyn chuckled slightly. As the blonde sat on a bench that wasn’t moving to recover while glaring daggers at everyone, Ashlyn turned to Jameson. 

 “Alright bud. You ready for your turn? Something tells me you could stand the full ten laps.” 

 “You know it.” He donned the helmet he was given and got in Daybreak’s passenger seat.

 “Buckle up, Jameson. This thing goes fast. Really fast.” 

 “Sweetheart, I’m Jameson Hawthorne. I’ve gone 200 miles per hour before. You didn’t take Aves and especially not Grayson anywhere near that fast. I mean, come on, it looked like you didn’t even take ‘em faster than maybe 160.” I smirked, feeling confident. 

 “Oh, so we’ve got someone experienced, huh?” She cocked an eyebrow and smirked right back. “Someone who thinks he’s all that. We’ll see about that, Jameson Hawthorne.” She chuckled. Then she leaned over me and buckled my seat belt. I could feel my breath go slightly more shallow than it had been mere moments before. The air I did get brought with it her intoxicating scent of sandalwood and vanilla. God, it smelled amazing. Wasn’t vanilla a natural aphrodisiac? I wouldn’t be surprised given the way it made me feel. All too soon, she settled back in her seat, while her smell lingered a few seconds longer. 

 “So then. I’ll take you around the track faster. How does that sound?” she asked me.

 “Yeah, sounds great.” I gathered my senses. It wasn’t often that I was jostled. She buckled up and the vehicle lurched from zero to 90 in less than five seconds. I could feel the adrenaline start flowing freely once we passed 120, and she only sped up. Of course, she handled the car masterfully(it was her job, after all), but seeing it first hand was something else. There was a certain grace that it took to handle cars at 150 plus miles per hour, and it came naturally to her. Something about it made her all the more attractive to me. There was just something about going 200 miles per hour with her that made me feel some jitters in my stomach. Is that why they say “butterflies in your stomach”? 

 The way the sunlight came through the windows at any given moment and ran across her smiling face and and flashed in her milk chocolate-colored eyes thrilled me as much as the ride itself. The look on her face as she focused on the track could have told anyone that this is what she loved to do. Her job was her passion. She and I were cut from the same cloth when it came to speed. 

 I wondered if we shared anything else in common.

[jollyreginaldrancher]

Yellowjackets S2 e3

So that all happened.

Everytime a non-main character starts to get flashbacks, they've died so that coach Ben guy is probably next, if the pattern continues.

Are we to really believe Taissa was sleep-eating with the gals? Not that it matters but I feel like this is just denial. She was wide awake when it all happened. Like I can rewatch to check but I remember her and Van hand-feeding each other at some point. That doesn't exactly scream sleepwalking to me. I think she just doesn't want to cope with what has happened.

I was thinking if Van is alive, why wasn't she with Taissa? I know high school relationships rarely last but come on. They've gone through so much and they're trauma bonded so something big must have happened. I wonder if it's the cannibalism of Lottie's clan stuff.

I'm starting to like adult Nat again but she's on pretty thin ice to be honest.

What was with the bleeding bush? Was that from Lottie's compound or part of the next scene with Taissa? I honestly stayed up just to see what happens to her and Simone. I couldn't tell if she intentionally got in that accident or if it was an actual accident. It's hard to tell when she switches between her normal self and her other personality.

Which begs the question is it just sleepwalking and a response to stress and trauma or another personality that surfaces in high stress situations?

I cannot stand this new Walter guy.

I honestly don't care much for Shauna and Jeff's midlife crisis stuff either.

I love Shauna though. She would be that old lady at the retirement home who casually reveals she killed a guy.

Lottie is getting within romantic distance of Nat and am I going to ship this? No, I'm too invested in Nat X Misty, but in another life maybe.

Lottie doesn't seem to have that accent anymore so maybe she just sounded a bit weird in that one scene.

It's sweet what Nat is trying to do but wouldn't the scent just attract every vulture or other predator to the airplane? Or worse, would it not bring everything to her location?

I'm really worried about that baby now. For starters how did it survive all this stress? And for second, wouldn't it be extremely fucked up by the mom drinking alcohol and eating human meat? Also the starvation and the cold. I don't think this baby will survive.

Misty is adorable. Her new friend is funny. I still don't like Mari.

It's nice to see someone other than Shauna show a sympathetic side to Jackie, even though she's already dead. A lot of time she'd been treated like a burden. The way I imagine they treated Misty before she turned out to be invaluable. I imagine Shauna realised she was in her shoes and that's why she was kind to her.

I have to give it to them though. Not a lot of shows can make you terrified of an Elk. Rightfully you should be scared of them but they're generally seen as a symbol of youth or freedom and dignity. They're seen from afar and give the protagonists courage. They don't scare the shit out of them and nearly knock them off the gene pool.

Is the one with no eyes tied to that funeral flashback? I don't remember much about it but it had something to do with maybe her grandma's funeral? Maybe she saw a dead body being prepared and that image stuck with her and that's the man with no eyes? I really don't remember much about that though and I don't want to google it and get spoiled.

Also Jeff said he's been married almost 25 years. Callie is definitely not the baby she had in the woods cause she's still in high school, isn't she? That baby definitely didn't make it 🥺

Shauna rolled a crit on that intimidation check ☠️

Is Misty spoiling Steel magnolias for me right now? 😭 It was totally in my watch list. I have to give her credit though cause it sounds like she's putting her whole ass in this performance.

What's Taissa miming? It kind of looks like those masks she and Van wore at Doomcoming. Are we finally gonna see adult Van?

Rachel Berry has nothing on Misty 😅

Does this guy know Moriarty was the villain?

Aww the teddy bear 🥹

I guess what tore them apart ultimately was Van's devotion to Lottie.

And Lottie is still having visions? Or she's just started having them again. Either way shit is probably going to go down again.

It does a great job of tiptoeing around the supernatural. There's definitely hints but also scientific explanations of things but when you're alone in the woods and you don't have those explanations it's easy to believe anything, and especially easy to put faith in things when you have nothing else.

The takeaway here I guess is that Taissa has lost Van and Shauna and Nat and Taissa are maybe the last non-believers. Aside maybe from Trent but I don't think he really matters.

[salt-hag]

My book opinions ✨

[some priory of the orange tree spoilers]

Samantha Shannon does this writing thing where she won’t completely describe the choreography or visuals of a scene through the narrating character’s pov. Instead, she makes like statements and then you piece facts together. Like for example one time instead of saying of saying “character x was startled when she sensed someone behind her” it was instead like “Ead pulled out her knife and turned around. There was a woman [some details about the woman].” This happens consistently. I’ve gotten used to it but it threw me off at first. I’m still not sure if this is something I dislike or not. It kind of scratches my brain but in a frustrating way. It’s definitely different for me, which I guess is a good thing to learn/experience.

Another pov thing: sometimes even though we are oriented through a narrating character, the narrative “camera” seems to be omniscient/not grounded through the perspective character. For instance, a wedding scene was described as if from above or encompassing the whole room rather than from the pov character who was standing in the wedding procession and probably having some feelings about it that were not directly expressed on the page. Not a bad thing, just something that again scratches an itch in my brain but also frustrates me.

There’s some internalization to characters—their feelings and reactions to things are somewhat described but I want more. Maybe I just haven’t read a chonky, sprawling fantasy in a while but I keep wanting to shake characters and ask how they feel about stuff. At mid point in the book this is less a problem bc terrible things keep happening and characters are appropriately distressed.

I do care about all the characters now!! Took a second. I’m now invested. Except for Loth. He’s fine I just found his sections boring, even when he rode on the back of a giant mongoose (I think?) while plague ridden in the wilderness. He’s just a guy! A nice one! It’s whatever.

Fav character is a toss up between the gay tenderly yearning badass assassin mage woman or the gay tenderly yearning aging alchemist who mourns his deceased lifelong secret lover.

The gay tenderness !! Gets me feeling a certain way!! Loved the subtle build up of the sapphic romance. You could tell those two were attracted to each other early on without it being stated directly.

The fantasy version of Catholicism is very funny to me but also strangely boring. Probably because it is a very direct and kind of flattened (imo) parallel to medieval Western European Catholicism (honestly mostly it seems super British. Inys just seems like the British isles. But like understand I’m a medieval British lit gal so my impression of medieval British religious culture is not nearly as suffocating or straight-laced as Shannon’s fantasy depiction of it. But I also wonder if this book’s medievalism is meant to be vaguely Elizabethan/Renaissance which tracks more for me). I want to know more about the rest of this fantasy world outside of “Virtudom.” We are now getting more of that at the point I’m at.

The descriptions of the dragons/action are good but also the Western dragons are weirdly boring/flat as villains. I think this is because they turn up, are scary, shout some scary things, and then fly off. Im trying to think of what appeals to me about classic western type dragons from like Beowulf and the hobbit. I think classic examples of dragons have a quiet menace to them despite their enormity in their respective narratives. Shannon’s evil dragons are treated as almost like climate disasters or catastrophes, which I think is really cool. But yeah pretty shouty and one dimensional so far. Hoping that changes.

The Eastern dragons are cool as hell.

I think the book is now building up to introducing maybe 2 immortal witch characters that are important to the plot?? I’m so excited. There has not been enough witches yet.

I’m on page 445/800 of priory of the orange tree. It is now good. I wasn’t sure for the first 200-300 pages but yeah. This book good

[sethcertified]

「 GREEN IS THE COLOR ! 」 . . . 📁 [name’s] version

the outsiders : dallas winston

wrd count : 1.3k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . [name] gets jealous when he witnesses dally flirting with a pretty, redhead girl

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . dallas winston & male reader

Dallas Winston was a flirt. That was an undeniable fact. I was aware of this fact when we started dating. Maybe going along with him despite knowing this made me stupid. Maybe it just meant I was in love. Maybe it meant both.

I had seen him run his mouth before to all types of girls; greasers and socs and hoods alike, but I never had any fears of him cheating on me.

Even now as he chatted up some redhead I had no fears of him cheating on me; just crippling jealousy.

She was a real pretty gal, and I could see why Dally had decided to make her his target of attraction for the night. She was practically any guy's wet dream.

Cherry was her name. Suiting with her long, silky mop of dark red hair. I had my doubts if her hair color was real with the vibrancy and youth of the color, but hearing the same wonder leave Dally's mouth in such a crude manner made me gag at even considering the thought.

My foot bounced against the ground as I remembered the scene that happened a few moments ago. More specifically I remembered the words he uttered to her.

"Are you a real redhead?

But that was just the start of it. The way he got close to her as he spoke was the first bubble of envy to boil up in the pit of my stomach. Even the way he drew out the words as he spoke to the gorgeous girl fueled my ever-so-growing jealousy.

I knew his charm was working on her too as the scene played before my very eyes. The way she giggled and tried to hold back the smile as he flirted with her was telling.

"How can I find out if it's your real red hair?"

His fingers twirled the said hair around, and my fingers gripped the metal seat roughly.

"Is this the same red hair that you have-" Dally pointed down at the girl's crotch before his pointed finger up to her face, "on these eyebrows, too?"

A deep frown covered my face. They looked good together. Better looking than Dally and I for sure. These thoughts were clouding my mind as second after second passed. With a shake of my head, I stood up from my seat next to Johnny and left the destination of my friends, and the soc girls entertaining them.

I wasn't sure where I was going, but | was sure it had to be far away from them. Small feelings of guilt built up in me for abandoning my brother Ponyboy, but he had Johnny to keep him company. I just couldn't bare to see the flirting fiasco between Cherry and Dally.

And that's how I got here; against a rackety, old fence while my mind danced with entanglements of Cherry and Dally. The reasonable option was for me to go home, and pass out on the couch, so I didn't have to deal with my relationship troubles, but my yearning for Dally to find me and rid me of this envy trumped my logical thinking.

The ground was rough, and the sky was painted with billions of stars. As embarrassing as it was those things were my only source of company as the hands-on my watch flew by in a circular motion. The sight of my watch was just making me feel shittier as the minutes flew by.

Standing up with a shove against the old, beat-up fence I began to tromp away from the drive in movie theater. Dally wasn't coming to be my Prince Charming and save the day no matter how long I waited for him, so what was the point in waiting any longer?

My fingers trailed across the lining of the fence dragging against my movements trying to distract me from my troublesome thoughts. All wanted was to get home as soon as possible and then cry myself to sleep.

"[Namel!"

My name? I turned in the direction of the shout with a small boost in my mood. Maybe Dally did come for me after all?

My dream was proven true as I caught sight of a sprinting denim-clad Dallas Winston. His hair flopped and flew against the wind as he dashed straight at me.

Dally's large hands held my shoulders like they were his lifeline as he caught his breath trying to soothe his aching abdomen from the run,

"What-what are you doing?"

"Walking home? Did you run the whole time trying to find me? You're sweating like a pig!"

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Oh, please," I rolled my eyes at his cheeky words.

Dally recovered from his hunched-over position and was analyzing me with his dark, firey eyes. I didn't dare to make eye contact with him. One of the reasons I fell for the dangerous boy was his ability to read me with just a split second of eye contact. I was well aware that if he saw the look of envy in my eyes he would connect the dots in mere seconds.

"God, man. You gave me one big scare back there. How many times do we have to get it through you Curtis brothers' heads that walking alone is dangerous for guys like us!"

"Dally, please save the lecture for another time.

I'm going home no matter what. I don't care what those Socs do to me on the way."

"Don't be stupid! You saw what they did to Johnny."

We shared a hard look at the mention of Johnny's recent attack. He was jumped by a group of Socs, and since he was a total recluse only really speaking with Ponyboy or Dally.

"You're right. I'm sorry." | looked down at my feet as I anxiously awaited his response. Dally wiped the sweat off his brow, "It's fine. Just don't do it again, man. The boys and I were worried about you."

"Speaking of the boys where's Johnny and Ponyboy?"

"They left with those socs girls. Johnny told me to back off from them. Can you believe it? Johnnycakes telling me to back off!"

Did Johnny notice my departure? Johnny was pretty observant... I gave the quiet boy an internal thank you. Without him, Dally wouldn't have come to find me, "You need to give Johnny more credit, Dal. He has his moments.”

Dally stuffed his hands in his pockets as we began walling in unison. As much as I should've been upset or mad at the man; his presence was a blessing to be around.

"Yeah, he does. Johnny's a good kid, you know.

Him and Ponyboy." Dally turned to me with a smirk, "Pony gets it from you."

A small smile placed itself on my lips, "You are such a smooth talker."

Dallas interlocked our hands as he stopped our walking movements, "Johnny saw you leave earlier. Think it's why he told me to back off."

I blinked at Dally unsure of where this conversation was going. He continued, "That redhead girl? She meant nothing to me. As bullshit as it sounds coming from a guy like me, you're the only one for me. You're my boy."

"Really?"

I smiled bashfully at Dally. His usual hard demeanor was gone, and I could feel myself falling in love with him all over again. Dallas Winston was not one for apologies, yet he could push past his pride and be vulnerable with me just to give my envy a break.

"Really."

I gripped our interlocked hands tighter as I leaned in for a kiss. Our foreheads touched as our lips danced together in a slow, stubborn waltz of forgiveness and understanding.

Our breathing mingled as we pulled apart. His breath tainted mine with the taste of Coca-Cola. Cherry would never get to enjoy the taste of Dallas Winston and his Coca-Cola lips and as petty as that made me I was more than glad to embrace that fact.

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( ﹒⟢ ˚ ⊹ 🌪 ﹒⟢ ˚ ⊹ d.v.

©️ sethcertified 2023

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the blind dating show —part one

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (mentions of sex but no graphic depictions, alcohol consumption, mentions of a past breakup)

word count: 2.5k

frankie morales masterlist

a/n: this is part one of a two-shot based on a Filthy Friday request from @anotherpedrolover the smutty part two will be up tomorrow!

It was supposed to be a night of laughing at other people’s embarrassment. Your friends had heard about this local bar that hosted a blind dating show every Saturday night. Each week it alternated between being “guy’s choice” and “ladies choice”—tonight being the latter. You agreed to come out of your post-breakup cave in order to get a good laugh in at other peoples pain, and yet somehow…

“I signed you up.” Your best friend approached your booth with a grin, watching as your eyes went wide and head started to shake. “And before you say no, I’d like you to know that my fun little biography of yours got you chosen. So…you don’t really have a say here.”

“Is this not a free country?” You looked around at your two other friends who kept their eyes averted and grinned down at their drinks. “You’re joking, right? You gotta be joking. You want me to go on that stage and date? Three dudes? In front of a crowd?”

“It’s been two years since your breakup, babe. You need to get back out there. And how about this, you go up there and give it a real shot, and I’ll stop setting you up on blind dates for a whole year.” She held out her pinky for you to shake on.

“A whole year. No dates—period. I don’t want to meet any more of your gym bro friends.” She agreed to your conditions and you sighed, tossing your drink back now that you knew you’d have to be social.

“Alright, everybody settled? We’re about to start the show! Can I have our lovely bachelorette to the stage?” Your best friend urged you forward, the light finding you in the crowd and the emcee cheering at the sight of you approaching the stage. “There she is! Tonight’s lucky gal.”

“Jesus Christ, strike me down now.” You grumbled to yourself but it was picked up by the stage mic, the crowd laughing in response. You blushed and took a deep breath as the emcee placed a blindfold over your eyes and sat you down, three seats open on your left.

“Alright, so I’m going to have the audience volunteer three eligible bachelors to come up and have a seat. You get to ask three questions in the first round, and they all have to answer—then, you’ll make your first cut. Second round is three questions, and then you’ll make your final decision. Only then will we show you your prize bachelor, and the two of you get a free drink on the house to start off your first date. Sound good?” The emcee handed you a mic and you sighed into it.

“Sounds…like I’m here.” The crowd laughed again and the host nodded.

“Alright, let’s see who our nominees are. Anybody ready to scoop up this very grumpy, but still beautiful nonetheless, bachelorette?”

A man in the crowd that introduced himself as Pope made a commotion, gesturing at three of his pals as they all sat in the bar. Benny and Will, a pair of good looking brothers, willingly accepted the nomination, standing up and looking over at your best friend who had the final say.

“Yeah, they’ll do. But, uh, the one in the ball cap needs to go too. She’s into his sort of thing, I think.” The crowd “ooo”-ed at the blush on Frankie’s face as he was forced onto his feet, the three men walking up onto the stage and earning cheers from mostly the women.

You delighted in the fact that they were at least attractive enough to earn the approval of a bar full of drunks, but still couldn’t shake the dread that came with this sort of thing.

“Alright, introduce yourselves gentlemen.” The emcee handed the microphone to the tall, bearded blonde first, the ladies going wild as he smiled into the crowd.

“I’m Will. I’m 36, uh, I like to work out and spend time with my friends. I, uh, most of my charm relies on being able to see me, so…I promise if you get a good look at me, you’ll forgive my lack of personality.” He joked, making you chuckle just a little. You weren’t really into the whole muscle/gym thing, but he sounded like he had a nice voice.

“Alright, I’m Benny. I’m Will’s younger brother—“ The crowd made a noise at that, making you chuckle. “I’m a fighter, literally. I do it for money. Uh,” he chuckled and interrupted himself. “Ah, fuck it, here you go, Fish.”

Maybe not the man for you.

“Hi, I’m Frankie. I’m a pilot. I’m a big fan of being outside as long as I’m not being forced to work out too much. Uh,” the crowd seemed smitten by his charm, a soft rumble of chuckles only from the women in the room. “I’m a nice guy, and I am shutting myself at being on a fucking stage right now, so…bare with me.”

You smiled at his introduction, liking the way his voice seemed to contradict his seemingly sweet nature. It reverberated through you, his deep husky tone, but also felt light. Like someone you could laugh with. You wondered if that was the one your friend told the crowd that you’d like—she always did have a good eye.

“Alright, what are your first impressions?” The emcee asked as he took back the mic, watching as you smiled and lifted yours to your mouth.

“I think they’re all obviously attractive given the whole crowd cheering thing, and they all have really nice voices. But right now it’s between #1 and #3.” You heard a groan from one of the men and chuckled. “I’m assuming that’s #2.”

“Yep,” the emcee confirmed and the audience laughed. “Okay, what’s your first question?”

“Hm…are you a cat or a dog person?” You decided to start out relatively tame. You loved both animals but had neither, so there really wasn’t a wrong answer—unless they made one on their own.

“Contestant number one,” the emcee handed the mic to Will and he accepted it with a smile.

“I’m a dog person. I like to be moving around and doing things, and cats like to hide and lay around. Opposite lifestyles.” You nodded, though you made a mental note that perhaps you also had an opposite lifestyle to the man given that this was your first outing in a month.

“Number two,”

“I like both. Cats and dogs. Cats are better at being roommates but dogs are better at being pets. So, both.” You nodded again, putting on point towards the underdog.

“And number three,”

“I love all animals, but I’m allergic to cats, unfortunately. So I’m gonna say dogs, but really…no prejudice.” His nervous chuckle endeared you to him more than his actual answer, a smile creeping onto your face again.

“Well, it seems for now that our bachelorette has a thing for Frankie.” The emcee teased and you could feel your face turning bright red as your friends cheered like a group of drunks. “Ready for question number two?”

“Yeah, and this one’s a big one!” The alcohol finally started to hit your system and you felt yourself becoming looser, more like the you you remembered from before your last heartbreak. “How many dates do you think a couple needs to go on before they get intimate?”

“Ooo, we’ll start with Benny on this one. Bachelor #2, what do you say?”

“I say…I’m only going to sleep with a girl on the first date if I’m not interested in something serious.”

That received him boos from not only the women in the room but also from yourself.

“Can I explain?” He chuckled and you nodded. “I think that sleeping together on the first date sets a sort of tone for the rest of the relationship to be about sex. If I like the girl and want to date her, I’m gonna wait until at least the second date. That way I get to know her, and I’m not just thinking about the other stuff.”

That helped his case a little bit, but you still weren’t too impressed with his answer.

“Frankie, #3.”

“I say whenever it feels right, go for it.” He shrugged and you found yourself smiling at his laid back attitude. “If I like you, it’s not going to matter how early we sleep together. And if I don’t like you, then I’m not going to sleep with you just to do it.”

The crowd ooo-ed at his shade thrown to his friend, the two men looking at each other with grins but you were oblivious.

“Will,”

“I like to go on a few dates. I don’t like to jump into anything to quick. I like carefully thought out, planned steps.” He shrugged and looked over at his friends, both of them waving their fingers in his face at the fact that they were winning. “But once we get there, I’m positive neither of these clowns could show you a better time than I could.”

“Oh,” you placed your hand over your heart and smiled at the flirty remark, surprised to hear such a playful comment from the reserved man. “That was hot. More of that.”

“Noted.” Benny stole the microphone back and talked deeply into it, making the room chuckle.

“Alright, last question of the first round!”

“If you were going to call me a pet name, what would it be and why?” You bit your lip as the emcee passed the mic to your favorite of the three, Frankie.

“Soy latino, así que te llamaría cariño, o quizás mi amorcito.”

“Ah, sí? Y puedo llamarte papí?” You used your college-level Spanish to flirt with him, the crowd cheering as he covered his blush with his hands. Frankie was pink when he lifted the microphone back to his lips and spoke with a nervous tone.

“Si, por favor.” You laughed out loud along with a portion of the crowd, having already made up your mind in the very first round.

“Okay, Will?”

“What’s the point? These two are obviously into each other.” He made the entire room laugh, the two of you blushing. “So, I’d call you my best friends girl. That’s what I’d call you.”

“Has a nice ring to it.” You spoke into the mic and he lifted his hands up in the air in defeat.

“Your turn to get shot down, Benny.” His brother passed the microphone and Benny adjusted his posture, a determined smile on his face.

“I like a good competition.” He watched as you chuckled. “Soy Germán so, I’d call you meine Schönheit.”

The room cracked up at the sound of his German, your head shaking as you covered your mouth to hide your amusement.

“That didn’t…didn’t have the same effect as the Spanish.” You spoke through your chuckles and watched as he stood up and gestured to you and Frankie.

“Well! That was the quickest game yet. Meet our two lovebirds.” You took off your blindfold and locked eyes with the most dreamy brunette you’d ever had the privilege of playing on a game show with. Your smile turned into a grin as he approached you nervously, smiling down at you.

“Wanna go get our prize?” He nudged his head over to the bar and you nodded with a bitten lip, following him off the stage. You mouthed a thank you and gave your friends a thumbs up as you passed them, Frankie seemingly doing the same with a pat to his friends back. “These are the guys you turned down.”

You took both of the brothers in, surprised by how handsome they were. For a moment, you swore you could see Frankie’s smile falter as you checked them out, but with a hand placed to his arm, he perked back up.

“Well, boys. I just didn’t think we were a good fit.”

“First time in my life I’ve ever lost a woman to Fish.” Benny shook his head at you, smiling as he lifted his beer to his lips.

“You two make a very cute couple,” Will gave you a charming smile and a nod. “Go fall in love or whatever.”

“Will do.” You nodded and urged Frankie towards the bar.

“So…what about me did you like?” He asked once your drinks arrived, his brown eyes studying your face as you sat on the barstool beside him.

“I liked your voice at first, and the way you seemed to not want to be up there just as bad as me.” You looked up from your glass and gave him a flustered chuckle. “And all your answers matched what mine would be. But now, seeing you with my eyes, I’m extra glad I picked you.”

“Yeah, right.” He chuckled and took a sip of his drink, turning away with a blush.

“Seriously. You’re…dreamy. Is that a thing people say? Anyways,” you sucked in a breath and shrugged, your smile turning back to your drink. “Your eyes are very dreamy.”

“Your everything is very dreamy. I, uh, I pointed you out to my friends when you walked in. Before the whole show happened. That’s why Santi volunteered us. Because he knows I’m too shy to ever go up to a pretty lady like yourself.” He gave you a bashful smile as he turned back to you, making you chuckle out of endearment.

“Well, I’m glad your friend forced you onto the stage because I’m also way too shy to go up to a pretty man like you.” You shot him a wink, the two of you chuckling at your mutual nerves before falling into deep conversation.

You picked each other’s minds about anything and everything—animals, UFO’s, past heartbreaks, guilty pleasure pop songs…you name it, the two of you talked about it.

It had been so long since you found yourself swept away in good conversation, and when your friends approached you to tell you they were heading out, you actually felt sad at the thought of having to leave too.

“I should probably go with them,” you watched as they stood by the entrance waiting for you, their eyes carefully studying your body language. “But, if you’re free tomorrow, I’d really like to see you.”

“Yeah?” He looked surprised, as though he hadn’t expected it at all. With a boyish grin he gave you his phone number and you gave him yours, the two of you chuckling together like nervous teenagers. “I really enjoyed talking to you. Felt like I could do it all night.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow we’ll test that theory.” You gave him a wink before climbing out of your seat, Frankie standing up with you and walking you over to your friends with a blush on his face. Before you left, you turned around and placed a kiss on his cheek, lingering by his ear. “Buenas noches…papí.”

“Oh, we’re gonna have fun, cariño.”

•••

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added to future frankie content!)

[yuzukult]

dissonance (teaser) || jjk & reader

title: dissonance pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, eventual smut (but teaser is smut free baby), fluff, rockstar!jungkook, gradstudent!reader teaser wc: 1,277 | full fic wc: tbd summary: something that first seems out of reach becomes a reality for him. screaming adoring fans, billboards with him and his band plastered on it, and touring across the globe with venues sold out. he has everything... but all he's missing is you. a/n: back at it again !! i honestly didn't think i'd come back with another jungkook fic but... i've always written series' for him so maybe this time lets dabble in a one-shot. :) enjoy this little teaser!

He loves it here. It’s his dream to be here, on the stage, with the feeling of the music rumbling underneath the soles of his chunky boots, the sea of fans screaming and hollering out his name with his self-produced songs booming through the speakers of the venue while his band stands by his side, just as passionate for this as he is.

It’s his dream; he reiterates this constantly as a reminder that this isn’t something everyone gets the chance to breathe the opportunity of. He’s been manifesting this scenario his entire life, wishing and praying to the potential Gods to help make his aspirations become a reality. He’d work his ass off to make ends meet, be able to afford the necessities all while chasing this goal that many claimed to be unrealistic or unattainable. But he’s here right now, supporters that flood the building to the brim for a concert that’s been sold out in thirty cities so far. He has everything he could ever want. Girls, money, music…

But why does he feel… like there’s something missing?

Another pair of panties gets thrown at the toes of his boots—it’s probably the sixth one that night but he’s grown used to this already. In some performances, girls would throw themselves at his feet instead of undergarments, yelling at the top of their lungs so ferociously that the security guards had to hold them back in fear of what they’re capable of. And sure, if he really wanted to, he could ask them out or invite them back to his hotel room for a quick bang, and it was what he’d been doing for the first couple years, and maybe they’ll make him feel a little less like this.

Albeit it doesn’t quite hit the same way anymore.

He’s left with this feeling of emptiness when he says his goodbyes and shuts the door behind them; there’s a gap in his chest like he’s forgotten something, yearning for it to be filled but those girls aren’t the ones to do it. His dreams used to be able to—but what are accomplished dreams when you have no one to share it with?

His friends/band mates are great, supportive and understanding, he’s admitted that he’s gotten lucky in that department, but part of him believes that it’s not friendship he’s lacking.

It’s love.

It sounds sappy to the ears of strangers, especially because ideally, you’re not supposed to depend on love to have that stuffing to the brim emotions in your chest, to feel complete and whole because a pretty person fell for you and vice versa. But to Jungkook, being in love had been something he thought he could toss under the rug for another day when he’d given up the girl he’d be infatuated with for this unobtainable aspiration, yet instead, he finds himself back in the same spot years later. Missing it.

He loved the chase—he’s a hopeless romantic kind of guy. After all, how would all of his songs be so full of raw emotions like that? It’s because Jungkook lives it—or well, lived it because everything he knew about love had been left on a shelf to collect dust. And he’d try to convince himself that he didn’t need someone, but he’d grown… lonely.

And quite frankly, finding someone genuine has proven to be difficult.

Don’t mention Tinder, Jungkook has already tried that. It promptly made headlines the moment he logged into that app with a selfie he’s never used before, and still then people actually thought he was catfishing, and wasn’t the real Jeon Jungkook. He should’ve known. But in all fairness, Jungkook isn’t much of a ‘future thinker.’

Then there was trying to date a staff member—worse idea yet. That noona ended up pissed at him when he realized that this isn’t what he wanted (he’d learn she was quite the control freak) and she flipped shit to the point that his managers fired her on the spot then informed the security that she was on the “do-not-enter” list.

After that, Jungkook just thought maybe he was going about this wrong.

Maybe, women weren’t actually of his interest.

Possibly, he was into men.

So, he tried. He ventured out a little, got a little taste here and there. Jungkook even found someone who fit him perfectly. His name? Kim Hyunwoo.

It worked out for a little, Jungkook admits, because Hyunwoo was overall a great boyfriend. He looked out for Jungkook, treated him well and they shared the same interests overall.

But… that was the problem.

They got along very well. As if they were best friends.

He found himself getting a bit uncomfortable when things got a little too serious—don’t get him wrong though, he honestly wasn’t embarrassed to be dating a guy. Hyunwoo was the definition of a model; handsome, tall with these sharp facial features. He’d been stopped and recruited several times during their dates, and truthfully, it made Jungkook feel a little awkward. He was the celebrity here, yet standing beside Hyunwoo only makes him feel small.

And in all honesty, he shouldn’t feel this way about the success of his significant other. But it wasn’t even just that. He found himself unable to pass first base with the guy—something about the action itself made him feel… discomfort. But he’s attracted to Hyunwoo. So why can’t he push himself to kiss him?

Jungkook learns maybe he finds men appealing but he can’t have more with them.

So, he goes back into the dating game. Met girls all over during his tour stops; he met a foreign girl named Lily, a gorgeous girl with pretty blonde hair and pale skin. But they didn’t click. He oddly felt like they weren’t ever on the same page. Then he went to dinner with a gal named—okay. He forgot her name. But the way her dress hugged her ass made his mind go blank, so could he really be blamed? (The answer is yes.) Oh! What about that girl whose name is similar to a hurricane? She had long, dark hair that matched her lengthy lashes that fluttered over her supple cheeks when she sucked his—

Nonetheless, it’s a dud again. He’s still lonely, he sadly confesses, but all of this is too much for him to process. He’s tired of getting his heart broken. He’s exhausted from meeting girls who first claimed that they’re not obsessed then actually are. He’s worn out of the ones who don’t love him for him, but love him for his fame.

Jungkook just wants to be loved for being… Jungkook.

And when he encounters you, some graduate student who spends majority of her days in between the activities of face dug into a textbook or eyes glued onto a computer screen, he thinks he’s back to where he was before this lifestyle. Jungkook finds himself swooning, desperately wishing for your touch and kisses, but there’s just one thing he doesn’t quite know.

Do you like Jungkook for Jungkook? Or do you like the ideal version of him that sings on stage, tossing off his shirt with his abs flexing while the crowd screams his name once more, all while the veins in his neck pop when he reaches that high note?

Or do you like Jungkook, the one who still doesn’t understand the difference between an orange and clementine, the one who still has trouble knowing when a potato is thoroughly cooked, and why his socks came out of the wash in this weird pinky shade when they definitely went in as white.

So… which is it? Which Jungkook are you interested in?

[strawhatsweets]

golden

Kenma x GN!reader

Im trying to stray away from my comfort zone of just writing readers that use she/her so bear with me

sorry if this lowkey sucks but it was inspired by harry styles song golden

cw: big cursing, huge fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, comfort, aged up!

come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in!

Requests are open!!

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

Being a streamer comes with perks. Being comfy at home, not having to face people in real life every day, playing games, typical shit. Another perk is making good friends.

Meeting people on a voice chat is common for Kenma -guys and gals alike. What he wasnt expecting one night was the sweetest voice on the other end of his headphones.

"You're all fucks- I'm better at this game than all of you combined. Try me."

To think that was the sentence that made Kenma's ears perk up and burn.

"What the hell ever- we have the great Kodzuken on our side." One of the guys said, half joking half dead serious.

"Oh yeah, he isn't even speaking up to defend your pussy asses- probably knows I could beat him too." You could hear the smirk in that last part.

"U-uh, no. You can't beat me. Nobody can actually. Not at this game." Kenma rebutted , confident in his gaming skills but not so much his speaking skills to this stranger.

"Oh man, you certainly sound confident. Come on, Kodzuken- 1v1 me then. Show me who the best really is."

Kenma suddenly felt nervous. Should he really demolish this stranger? Isn't it polite to let the person you like win? He didn't like this person yet but god their voice was attractive.

"Fine. Send the request." He decided.

"Sent, fucker."

The game resulted in a tie because this stranger actually knew what they were doing. They both threw friendly insults at each other the whole time of course, making each of them laugh a little.

"Okay fine. The great Kodzuken himself almost beat me. Im almost honored to have a great streamer almost beat me."

"Well you almost beat me too- uh-" Kenma stuttered over the fact that he didn't know how to address this stranger.

"Oh! Call me Y/n." The person giggled.

"You can uh, call me Kenma."

"Oh you don't want me to repeat your title over and over like everyone else?" They laughed.

"No, friends don't call me that. They use my name name." His ears were burning.

"Friends, huh? Guess that means you owe me your number so we can schedule a rematch where I can properly beat your ass."

"Huh, guess so."

A few months had gone by and Y/n and Kenma were as close as they could be. They found out they live close by each other and began hanging out a lot.

Y/n would be in the back of his streams on occasion and wouldn't hesitate to speak up during them. Thats the thing about Y/n. They've always been so outspoken. Since the start. Everything they talk about comes so easy to Y/n. Nothing is held back. Kenma knows everything about them. He on the other hand is still a bit closed off. Quiet. The two are so opposite yet so alike. Kenma doesn't speak much about himself, opting to listen.

Especially when talking about past relationships.

One night, they were sat in Kenmas room in separate chairs, letting conversations flow.

"So, you've dated but why have the relationships ended?" Y/n asked.

"Ah, I dont know- its not important. Why did yours end?" Kenma flipped the question as he always does.

"One guy cheated," Y/n tossed a piece of popcorn in the air, missing their mouth and brushing it off. "One girl left because she was leaving for school, and one guy just didn't mesh with me. Your turn." Y/n pushed the question back.

"Uh- well. I don't click with people easily. I'm pretty closed off so when I date it usually ends in hurt feelings by accident or they get sick of me." Kenma finally admitted.

"Huh." Y/n flopped onto their stomach on the bed after setting down the popcorn. "Don't you like anyone though? Like- if you liked someone enough, do you think you would give opening up a shot?"

"I mean I guess. Nobody ever takes the time to...pry me open." That got a laugh out of Y/n. Good. "But yeah I do like someone."

Sitting up suddenly, Y/n became visibly excited.

"TELL ME WHO."

"No god no- it isnt important." Kenmas ears burned again.

"Come onnnnn. Its gotta be someone big time cool to earn your heart. I have to approve."

Y/n pulled Kenma from his chair to the bed, not letting go of his hand as he sat down.

"Theyre very cool- and very sweet. Understanding. Someone who stands up for me and makes me comfortable-" Kenma began gushing.

"Do I know them?" Y/n interrupted.

"Y-yeah. You sure do." Kenma scratched the back of his neck.

"Oooh ok, a guessing game. Describe them more- their looks!" Y/n held his hand tighter, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Well- ok." Kenma took a deep breath and decided he could be vague enough. "Theyre short. As short if not shorter than me. Competitive. Very cute smile-"

"TOO VAGUE give me the JUICY DETAILS" Y/n pushed.

"They uh- they have..pretty eyes." He was staring at this point, eyes wandering around Y/ns face to find more things to describe. "cute nose too I guess. Squishy cheeks. Glasse-"

"WHO THE HELL IS IT KENMA- its starting to sound like youre describing me." Y/n laughed.

"No- I'm totally not!" Kenma rushed.

"Tell this person you like them. You look so happy when you talk about them. Its kind of sickening."

"I can't just do that." Kenma stated flatly.

"Yeah you can."

"No-"

"DO ITTTT. Nothing to be scared of- it's CUTE. They would be dumb to not like you."

Kenma sighed, knowing he couldn't tell Y/n the truth about who he liked. What does he usually do when he's put in a corner like this? Oh thats right-

"Who do you like then Y/n?" He asked, proud of himself for deflecting again.

"Oh thats easy. You." Y/n said, letting go of his hand and laying back on the bed, leaving Kenma sitting up and stunned.

"What? No I mean a crush idiot. Who do you liiikkkeee?" Kenma pushed, hoping he didn't hear Y/n wrong.

"You, Kenma. I've had a crush since our first tie in a game. Thought that was obvious-"

Kenma flopped back on the bed as well. The both of them looking at each other.

"Oh. My person is uh... really... open and honest." Kenma said quietly.

"Is that why you wont tell them?" Y/n asked just as hushed.

"Yeah... what if right now they say yes but then their feelings change one day? That would hurt so bad. Worse than not telling them ever." He whispered.

There was silence. They knew what they both just admitted. Kenmas heart started racing. This might've fucked everything up. He might lose them. But they like him too so why is he so scared?

Y/n held his hand again.

"I know that youre scared because I'm so open...but hey... If you wanna give it a try..." Y/n whispered, scared about whether or not their honesty fucked them over.

"You might be right this time Y/n." Kenma whispered.

The space between them was closed due to both of them being drawn together like magnets in that moment. A sweet kiss.

"Let's try it then. I'll work on... being more open if you'd like." Kenma said.

"Kenma. I dont want you to change one bit. I like you the way you are."

Acceptance. It was the best thing Kenma has ever felt.

[oretsov]

all’s well that ends well (to end up with you)  [ao3]

for Malina Appreciation Week 2021 Day 4 - Fake Dating/Relationship i’m not 2 hours late shut your mouth 

The first wedding is mostly done out of necessity. 

Mal plops on the couch next to her as she’s reading the invitation, but she hardly notices. She just thinks about how it’ll be the first time in a year where she’s confronted with the reality of having to see her ex, having to possibly interact with her ex, and the most terrifying, having to spend an entire wedding knowing that it could’ve been her and her ex standing up front exchanging vows. 

She shivers at the thought. 

Her ex, batshit crazy and old as shit to boot. The hotly mysterious and objectively most powerful person who worked at her company, and the most insane motherfucker, who left her powerless and defenseless and feeling worthless for two miserable years of her life.

The reason she hates neckbeards, despises the color black, feels like she lost half of her twenties trying to please an immovable force, prove herself to just some guy, who in the end, didn’t even have the decency to let her dramatically break free from him in some high-strung, high stakes girl power moment, shaking her fist and her middle finger in his face as she called down the wrath of a hundred generations of mistreated women in her bloodline and kicked him squarely in the balls. 

No, he didn’t even let her have that. He just up and left one day, decided she wasn’t worth it, decided everything she gave to him wasn’t enough anymore. Because nothing ever was enough! She knew it then and she knew it now. 

She wishes she could scream in his face and do a lot more still, mostly violent and elaborate schemes that involved her and her friends throwing his body down a ditch, lighting a match in a dramatic way as she burned his shit: his stupid fancy car, his stupidly huge house, his stupid fucking artifacts that screamed ‘yes, by the way, we have acquired these stupid fucking artifacts in an inhumane way’, because if there was one fact she would always know it was that men like him would do nothing but take and take and take. 

Lighting his rotting soul on fire at a wedding of her dear friend would probably not go over well though, she thinks. It could attract local news, and Genya would hate to not be prepared to be on television. “Crazy Woman Screams Ferally For 24 Hours As She Throws Fine China At Black Jacket That Also Looks Suspiciously Like Human Form, Yelling Maybe Olivia Rodrigo Lyrics At Wedding Of Close Friend As Said Close Friend Hides Her Face In Horror And/Or Shame” did not exactly roll off the tongue. 

She can’t believe Genya didn’t tell her. She’s literally in her bridal party, saw her no less than two days ago as they discussed the vague details of her upcoming bachelorette extravaganza. 

They brunched every Sunday. They Gals Brunched every Sunday. Some things in life were sacred, and the bond of those who Gal Brunched, especially on Sundays, sacred brunch day, she had assumed were unbreakable. She scoffs and begins concocting a simple ten step plan for revenge. 

“What’s all this then?” Mal’s gesturing to her. It had not occurred to her that she was clutching the invitation in her hand, audibly sighing dramatically and shaking her head and scoffing left and right. Her legs are crossed, quite painfully actually, like she was imagining choking out Aleksander and his stupid head in between her knees, and not in a sexy way.

She thrusts the invitation in his face and watches him skim the text. 

“Genya and David’s wedding? We’ve known about this.” He laughs a little, looking at her face. 

“We were there for most of the events leading up to it were we not? Or am I the only one who remembers walking in on them more than once?” He grins boyishly at her, like it’s so funny that their friends have fun sexual antics with each other because they were not in distress and were, are, terribly in love with each other, and probably will be forever. 

Mal doesn’t deserve the hard eye roll she gives him, but she’s so shaken up by the one specific person that is almost certainly on the guest list. It’s like a terrible little demon ghost, that sits in the back of her mind and her memories, that calls to her, and she’s constantly terrified that she’ll forget that the little demon ghost wants to drag her back into the literal pits of hell, to where she’s not a person, doesn’t feel full, doesn’t feel happy, and certainly, never, ever, feels loved. 

But she doesn’t live in that pit of hell anymore. She lives here, sits here on this couch next to Mal. And Mal can tell that she’s not going to laugh at his jokes, can tell that she’s stressing out and maybe shaking a little. So he scooches closer to her until their thighs are touching and wraps his hands around hers. 

His hands are warm. Big. Calloused, hard but soft, hands of a fighter and hands of a lover. 

Not like she’s noticing, has noticed, or will ever notice. Or anything. 

Slowly and delicately, like he’s approaching a wild animal, he takes the invitation out of her iron grip. When she releases it, he sets it down next to him and returns his hands to hers, covering her little fists with his palms, and they breath air on their joined hands, and all the fight and seizing fear is leaking out of her, and she thinks she’s close to crying which is somehow worse, that he could still make her cry after all this time, make her feel like shit, which she supposes is exactly what he was to her. 

“What’s the matter? Talk to me Alina.” 

She blows out hot air through her mouth. 

“It’s...it’s the venue. I guess they changed it.” Deep slow breaths, she tells herself, laser sharp focus on the hands cupping hers, keeping her safe. “It’s one of Aleksander’s properties. There’s no way they could’ve afforded it if they didn’t ask him.” 

She hears Mal’s shark intake of breath before she sees it, and when she turns her head towards him his brows are furrowed. 

“So you think he’ll be there.” 

“I think I know he’ll be there.” 

A brief silence. 

“Not unless we carry out one of your plots. I’ve been listening to that murder song, I think we could pull it off.” His tone is light, but his hands are squeezing hers. She gets the message he doesn’t say. I’m here, I’m here I’m here I’m here, I’m right here. Her mind seizes with a different emotion, but she ignores it and squeezes his hand back. 

“I don’t want to see him. But it’s not like we -- I can’t go.” He hums in agreement. 

“And we definitely can’t do the murder.” 

“We definitely can’t do the murder.” 

He hums some more. She thinks he’s got his thinking face on but can’t be sure. It blurs together with his ‘taking care of Alina’ face. She saw a lot of that face right before and immediately after the breakup, and it makes her want to scream into her pillow. To just let Mal take care of her. 

Now wouldn’t that be something. 

She slumps and sighs. What shit, and what a shit, to already ruin her friend’s wedding for her.

“I don’t want to see him, and I don’t want to even look at him, and I don’t want him to look at me, and I definitely don’t want him to talk to me. And I don’t want him to think I’m doing worse, because I’m not. I’m doing better. I’m doing really good.” She nibbles on her lip and tries to convince herself of that last statement. She is doing better, that much is true. And she doesn’t care what he thinks, actually thinks he can go fuck right off from her head, but he can’t because they’re going to be at the same wedding. She’s going to stand to the right of Genya, and she’s going to remember a time when a clunky diamond was slipped on her finger, heavy with a promise so big like it was destined to be broken. 

“It just sucks to be sucked back into all the old feelings again.” At his face, she clarifies, “old feelings of how he made me feel. Not feelings for him.” 

He bobs his head in what is probably a nod, and she slumps her body some more, slumps it until she’s leaning into his side that’s all pressed up against her, warm and electric and the purest comfort wherever they touch. She leans her head on his shoulder, and he leans his head on hers. No matter what pit of hell, there was always Mal. Warm and steady, to guide her back to safety. 

“And what if he..brings someone? That’s just,” she lets out an indistinguishable sound that’s maybe a prolonged grunt, “embarrassing.” 

Turning her face into Mal’s side feels right. She doesn’t think he should have to handle seeing her like this, when he’s already seen her a hundred times worse about this and a thousand other things at a million other points in their lives. There’s just something more excruciating about this whole situation, and she wishes she never fucking dated that little shithead and she could sit on the couch like a normal person and read wedding invitations without the urge to commit several forms of homicide.

Mal is silent throughout all of this, but she doesn’t mind. Sometimes he’s a man of many words, and sometimes a man of few, especially when it comes to his emotions and her emotions. She imagines him having to detangle himself from what he really wants to say and what he thinks he should say. Either way, he always says the right thing, and lately, like lately since they were kids, lately twenty years ago, she’s been thinking that he always says her favorite things, in her favorite way, deep and honey coated and just for her. 

And then he goes and says another one of her favorite things. 

“We could go together.” 

She turns her face up towards him, and he looks down at her. “We’re already going together. We’re in the wedding parties.” 

He smiles at her, and she thinks of licking the sweet syrup from his words. 

“No I mean. We could go together. Pretend we’re together. So Kirigan doesn’t talk to you.” 

She keeps looking up at him, and he keeps looking down at her, patient with her reply. He’ll take it in stride whatever she says, she knows that. 

“Like...pretend you’re my boyfriend?”

“Sure. I’ll play overprotective beau, and that way he’ll never come up to you.” 

She knows she could say whatever she wanted to him and they would always have each other. Which is why she nods and squeaks out a small “Okay.” 

It’s just one wedding, after all. 

___

“Oh by the way if anyone asks, Mal and I are dating.”

She hisses as Zoya shoves a bobby pin into their wedding-appointed updo with more force than necessary. Zoya is staring at her through the mirror, and she can see Genya whip around in the background at a velocity that threatens her own wedding updo. 

“You and Mal are doing what now?”

“Just if anyone asks. We’re dating.” 

“So you are dating.” 

“No just if anyone asks we are.” 

“So you’re not dating.” 

Alina sighs. This conversation would be like this then. 

“We’re not dating, just pretending to for the wedding. Just to keep certain,” she looks at Genya through the mirror “people away from me.” 

Genya makes a sound in the back of her throat and twirls back around, returning to her makeup. Zoya continues to stare her down through the mirror, clinical and emotionless and judgemental all at once. She expected nothing less really. 

“I think that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Zoya sits on a board. She sits on several boards. She’s heard a lot of stupid things. 

Alina sighs again. “It’s just in case. It’ll be fine.” 

And it would be fine, she tells herself determinedly. It was just a fail safe, push button in case of emergency. Mal offered and she accepted, and it’s not like they discussed the parameters of this.

In fact they didn’t even bring it up after that conversation, not when they got up from the couch, or bought a joint wedding gift, or showed up to all the wedding events together, not at the rehearsal dinner, not when they rushed out of the house, dry cleaning in hand. 

Certainly not when they performed wedding party duties a few hours ago, checking the rows and flowers and pamphlets and the attendants of the ranch hurrying in and out, and saw Aleksander lingering by the doorway. Mal spotted him, right when Alina was tracing the petals of a small iris. 

They certainly didn’t talk about it when he reached his arm over her waist, and she could only turn into him, flush against his chest like they were two cards in a deck, perfect together, belonging nowhere but next to each other. 

They only talked about it when Mal leaned in, his breath so hot on her face, like a warm wave of summer washing over her, and it made her want to strip off her clothes and jump into a cold shower, preferably with him.

“He’s right by the doorway. He definitely saw us.” She grips the arms holding her to him, and hangs on tight. His forearms look delicious in his white button down. 

“I think he’s still looking.” He gulps and leans into her to whisper in her ear, “is it alright if I kiss you?” 

Warm honey is his voice she thinks - she would let it roll down her throat, coat her tongue, drip down her thighs. 

She nods. Push button in case of emergency. Mal’s lips are soft and familiar, every youthful game of 7 minutes in heaven, truth or dare, spin the bottle, boiling over and rushing up to meet the precise point where her lips touch his. 

Soft and familiar. Nothing more and nothing less, and he pulls back slowly after a moment, the ghost of a smile on his face. His eyes dart, and she doesn’t dare look anywhere other than his face. 

“Okay. He’s gone.” She breathes a sigh of - something, and gingerly steps out of his arms. He lets her. He smiles and they do not talk about it then. 

“It’ll be fine,” Alina says again. 

“You already said that.”  Zoya’s back to shoving bobby pins in her hair.

“Zoya be nice. It’s not like it’ll be much of a change-“

“Yeah Zoya, it’s not like it’ll be much of a change.” 

“-because they’re already past acting like they’re dating, and instead act like they’ve been 

married for fifty years.” 

“I - wait what? That’s not true.”

Zoya snorts into her hair. “Sure, and Nikolai isn’t in love with me, and Aleksander doesn’t suck ass-“ 

“And David doesn’t love me enough to get married-,” Genya offers. 

“-and half of our friends aren’t in love with each other-”

“-and you haven’t been in love with Mal for twen-”

“Okay yes fine, I see your point.” She watches them in the mirror, snickering to themselves. At 

her and her idiocy. 

What was she thinking, anyways? Pretending to date Mal. At a wedding no less, with all of their friends, where she would have to explain the situation over and over again, and she would groundhog day her way through ten variations of the above conversation, receiving looks ranging from pity to disbelief to annoyance from anyone who would listen. 

But she thinks about the shadow of fear wrapped around her little heart, still beating, miraculously, even after everything. Beaten down and discarded, the last harrowing months where she was cut off from almost everyone. Some days she feels the metaphorical dirt under her fingernails as she metaphorically crawled out of the grave Aleksander dug for her. She just knew she needed better, and so if she kept thinking about the warmth and the strength of Mal, his steady hand on her shoulder, in her hands, intertwined in her life, no one needed to fucking know. 

And it wasn’t a thing that married people thought about. It was just a thing Alina thought about. 

Genya must see her face, and when she looks in the mirror she sees her own eyes becoming red, threatening to shed a tear. 

“Oh Alina, honey, we’re sorry.  We’re just teasing.” Genya gets up to stand by them, and all three girls look at each other in the mirror. Zoya is displaying astounding levels of affection by patting Alina’s shoulder in a there, there manner. 

“I know I know, it’s fine. It’s just. Kind of overwhelming to handle.” How pathetic. It wasn’t even her wedding day.

But Genya’s heart is a good one, and they’ve been by each other's sides through it all, because she only smiles and reaches out her hand to put on Alina’s other shoulder. She grabs her hand, and lets the comfort of her two friends hold her down, hold her together. 

Genya crouches down next to her. “I know. And you know how sorry I am he’s here right? I want to dropkick him almost as much as you do.” Alina nods mutely at this. It was what it was. Some things were out of their control, and she knew Genya hated him almost as much as she did. 

“And you’re not alone today, no matter who’s getting married.” Alina nods mutely again. 

“And we’ll be around the whole time, and you’ll have Mal.” Zoya runs a soothing hand down Alina’s head, pushing back stray hairs, like a silent apology for her forceful bobby pin shoving. She tucks a curl behind Alina’s ear. 

“He’s not ever going to let him hurt you again. You know that.” 

___

And he doesn’t. Mal does a pretty good job of making sure of this. They’ve got plenty to do of course, during the day, during the wedding, right before the wedding, right after the wedding, right up until the reception. 

Her duties as bridesmaid have also kept her occupied, and being in the wedding party meant that Zoya could whisk her away at any time from anyone, saying in a frantic voice “The bride needs her!!”, and they would go back to Genya’s room and drink from fancy little flutes of champagne. 

She curses it all. The ranch really is exceptionally nice, and never had she drunk such fancy champagne from such fancy little flutes. At least if she had to deal with knowing Aleksander was here, she could leech off his wealth, get drunk and have a good fucking time with her friends, and most importantly, be a part of one of her best friends getting married. 

The celebration of the love of her friends matters so much more to her than some guy. The feeling carries her through the wedding itself, and when she watches Genya and David reciting their vows to each other, the last thing on her mind is that it could’ve been her up there, drowning in misery, with a shitty guy. The wrong guy. 

She just watches them be in love, so pure and certain, and she doesn’t notice that she’s shed small tears of joy until she looks, past the marrying couple, at Mal. His eyes seem watery from where she’s standing across the aisle, and he gives her a little smile, brings a finger up to his face and swipes across his cheekbones, and that’s when she feels the cool sensation of her own tears slowly spilling down her face. She doesn’t wipe them away though. She just watches Mal look incandescently happy for their friends, and he watches her look the same way, and they smile at each other like they’re sharing a secret. 

And if she imagines a different wedding, her standing up there in white, with a boy she’s known her whole life, not a wedding of the past and not a wedding of the future, not a wedding fated to happen at all, no she fucking didn’t. 

___

The reception is trickier. It’s a bit of a free for all. 

A cake is cut and she munches on stuffed mushrooms and smoked fish and knocks back a healthy dose of wine. Mal radiates heat next to her, and she’s like a drunk little moth always fluttering her way towards him. Even with her eyes closed she could find him. 

There’s wedding speeches and a first dance. The patio’s silent, if soft strings and the sound of love floating across the newlyweds’ feet could be considered silent. Alina almost cries again. 

She doesn’t think about him, doesn’t have to. Mal keeps his hand on her thigh, on the back of her chair, hanging over her shoulder, always touching her, always letting her know he’s there. If she leans into his touch just a little bit more, no she didn’t. Or yes she did, but only for the purposes of keeping her safe. 

The beginning dances and the speeches cease, and now it’s a party. Now it’s switching to fancy cocktails, and it’s Genya grabbing her and Zoya’s hand to do green tea shots like they’re fresh faced uni students and not respectable adults who pretend they didn’t do shots at weddings. 

It has the potential to get a bit sloppy, but it doesn’t, because she feels so much love in the air, and it floats all around her and she’s drunk on wine sure, but she’s drunk on this feeling too. Surrounded by her friends, her friends in love, Mal never once letting go of her hand, 2000s era pop swirling around them but in a seven-piece band style. 

When the saxophone starts playing Mamma Mia! she can’t help but laugh and let herself feel so irresistibly happy, so loved. Mal grabs her other hand and swings her around, and she lets him twirl her, making a face at Zoya when they spin past her.  

As she spins she sees the all black ensemble at the corner of the patio, but she doesn’t fucking care. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t matter to her anymore, and she laughs again at how freeing this feels, like even though it was all over, now she was really letting herself wash it away. The bubbles of champagne were popping, celebratory in nature, misting down and raining over her skin, taking away her pain and her heartache and her feelings of worthlessness. 

And maybe finally for the first time in a long time, she feels firmly rooted, back in her body, her agency and her life in her hands where they belonged, and she feels so free, and so, so, happy, and she never thought she would let herself be this happy again while listening to ABBA, but here they are and there ABBA was playing. 

She laughs again, and Mal laughs with her, pulling her in close to his body. His chest is warm, his tuxedo jacket is off, and he’s rolled up his sleeves like he’s a movie star and they got to the part where it’s okay to lust after someone’s forearm veins. 

“What’s got you all smiley?”

Her eyes are closed now and she’s humming along to the band, wrapping her arms around Mal’s waist, and he effortlessly holds her in tight to his chest, resting his head on top of hers. Even in her heels and her swishy dress, he still towers over her, and she’s so grateful for it, and she grins maniacally into his dress shirt. 

So maybe she is a little drunk. So what. So was he. They hadn’t held each other this tightly while standing up since they were kids, and she’s pretty fine with never letting go as an option. Judging by the way his arms wrapped across her, his palm burning holes into her lower back, he didn’t want to let go anytime either. 

“I’m just really happy,” she tries to say, but the proximity of her mouth to the crinkles in his shirt muffles her voice. 

Mal laughs. “What?” 

She tilts her head up a bit, he tilts his head down a bit, and she closes her eyes and smiles lazily. “I’m just really happy.” 

She can hear her words starting to slur together, like she wants them squeezed in tight next to each other, not unlike how she was presently squeezed in tight to him. It’s half a byproduct of the alcohol and half her feelings at this moment. She’s never going to forget right now.

Her eyes are still closed, but she can hear it, can picture his smirk melting into the genuine smile that he keeps under lock and key, and reveals only for her. 

“I’m glad. You deserve it.” His hands at her lower back give a little squeeze. She frantically bats away the wine drunk telling her to mount him in the middle of the dance floor, and instead just hums her agreement, nestling her head back into his chest. It’s getting spinny and swimmy, and she snickers when she stumbles over his feet, almost jabbing the heel of her shoe into where she imagines his big toe is. 

“You’re also drunk as shit.” Two more squeezes to her lower back, and maybe she’s imagining him moving his hands lower. Was there a strip of skin that existed between a lower back caress and a full on ass grope? She was wondering. 

“Hi drunk as shit I’m dad.” Saints, maybe the green tea shots were a bad idea, if she was functioning at this level of comedy.

“That’s not how the joke works,” Mal whispers in her ear. 

How did his breath get to her ear? She wonders, but gets distracted by the question of the strip of skin he’s feeling up, gets distracted by not tripping over his feet again. Mal chuckles and it sends shivers down her body, and she just clings to him tighter. It’s getting dizzier and dizzier in her head. 

The band switches moods, and she swears that when she dares to crack an eye open the patio is two shades darker, fairy lights soft and hazy over them, barely illuminating their pressed bodies, like they’re sharing a secret in a dark room. She feels like she’s stepped into a dreamland, and when the strings start slow and soft, her heels transform into soft grass under her feet, and she and Mal are the only two people in the room. 

He leads them, which is probably for the best, given her state. But leading them means keeping her in his arms, and they sway softly, like a breeze is rippling through the air and they just happen to sway along with it. His shirt is so soft under her hands, his pine cologne scent and his sweat, the cold hard evidence that he was real, and he was with her, and if she really presses her ear hard against his chest, she can hear the slow and sturdy thumps of his heart, and she wills her own heart to beat to the same tune, like synching up metronomes. 

The fairy lights are the starry night sky in her mind. She’s full and content, in her dreamland with Mal, like she could float off to heaven right here, right now. She keeps her eyes closed, safe in his arms. She doesn’t see a dark shadow leave the patio, leave the wedding an hour too early. 

She doesn’t notice, and neither does the boy in her arms, because they only feel the shape of each other and sway to the steady beats of their hearts. 

 __________________________________________________________________

The second wedding is not done out of necessity, but more out of convenience. 

What was bound to be a “Very Gay Celebration of One Pew Pew Boy and One Flute Loving Motherfucker” (Jesper’s words, not theirs) required a decent amount of travel for the two of them, since the train to Kerch had the tendency to be anything but reliable, and her and Mal had decided early on that there was no way in hell they would miss any part of the Jesper and Wylan wedding festivities. 

Mal’s already taken Friday off, and she’s prepared to do the same. They’ll drive down Friday morning and help with anything that could require their help, maybe take a stroll or two, pretend like they won’t get hammered. Even though neither were in the wedding parties this time around, they barely saw their Kerch friends, and it would be nice to unwind for a longer weekend with them. 

She calls to tell Jesper as much. Holding her phone in her hand, she and Mal listen to the ringer on speakerphone as he bustles about the kitchen prepping their dinner. It’s lasagna night tonight, and she loves watching him treat every step, every layer of pasta and cheese and meat, like it's the final piece of the puzzle. 

She’s admiring the curve of one very peachy bottom in some very delicious looking grey sweatpants, which may or may not be connected to Mal’s form, and wills herself to stop salivating when Jesper answers the phone. 

She explains their plans to him, is in the middle of hashing out the details of their transportation, when he interrupts. 

“Wait. Shit.” Mal looks up from the floor, where he’s kneeling in front of the oven. 

“What?” 

“If you guys are coming early, which again, totally fine, let’s rage, the hotel..” Please not burst into flames please not burned down in a tragic accident please not infested with anything that crawled-

“..won’t have single rooms for the two of you. All the early rooms we saved were for. Well.” Awkward Jesper laugh. “Couples,” he finishes. 

Mal looks up again, but this time meets her eyes. She’s perched on the countertop, nibbling at her fingernails. Couples. What an interesting concept. 

“Well we can still come right? I mean since we’re not..” 

“Yeah of course. It’s just the room. It’ll only be one bed though, if that’s okay.” 

Shifting his weight, Mal stands and crosses to her perch. He arches an eyebrow at her, as if to ask ‘Is that okay?’. All she can do is smile and nod at him, and not think about all the things she wants to do to him when they share a bed. 

It’d been a while, since random naps on the couch, random naps in the car, random naps on the floor were, well. Unplanned, and definitely not in a California king with crisp white sheets, not in a room with a balcony and view of the water, where the room smelled like roses and doing it nonstop with the love of your life. 

No, their naps were definitely lacking all of those things. 

“That’s fine. It’s not like it’ll be the first time we share a bed.” 

Jesper makes a noise, maybe somewhere between a goat bleat and stomach grumble. 

“Alright, then I’ll let Wylan know you’re coming early, and I’ll tell the hotel. Text me when you leave and I’ll give you more details when you get closer.” 

“Sounds good, can’t wait.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s sporting a toothy grin. “Honestly same.” 

There’s some background chatter on his end that Jesper tends to, and he returns out of breath. “Okay gotta go now, but can’t wait to see you guys. Love you.”

“Love you,” she echoes as Jesper shouts “WESPER WEDDING!!!!” before hanging up. The phone sits in her hand now, a useless brick of technology. 

“Y’know,” Mal begins. He’s playing with the holes in her jeans, half leaning against the countertop. “We could go together.” 

The words and the look on his face give her déjà vu. She could say no, but there’s no way in hell she would ever pass up the opportunity to get drunk and drape herself all over Mal, let him hold her tight and be swept away by wedding nuptials. 

So she accepts with a sunny smile. “At this point it’s basically tradition.” 

Mal pauses a bit, takes his time looking in her eyes, then slowly returns her smile. “Yeah. Exactly. Tradition.” 

And so it was just two weddings, after all. 

___

Alina has a secret, and as her and Mal step into the room of what was less a hotel and more a borderline too cozy bed and breakfast, she thinks about it. 

Actually, she has two secrets. But the second doesn’t belong just to her, and when she crosses the room to open the balcony doors, the seaside air whips her hair around. It smells like sunscreen and salt. Booze and business. Mistakes and memories. It all comes flooding back to her, she would say, as if she didn’t think about it every day.

She and Mal don’t come to Kerch often, but the last time they did is burned into her memory. It was a weekend like this one, high promises of sunshine and festivities, copious amounts of drinking, and birthday celebrations with the Ketterdam kids. Her and Mal arrived at dusk, and were eager to forgo any freshening up, opting instead to meet up directly with their friends. 

That night was a rowdy one. She remembered being in the corner of some club, bass beat rattling her veins, tequila shooting through her body like rapid fire. Inej was with her, at a high top table in the dark corner.

Inej was watching her talk, as she explained in great detail where she was going, what she was doing, going to what could be considered rather large lengths to justify this little...trip she was taking.

“I just don’t understand why you have to leave for so long. And you’ll be so far away.” 

“I’m far away now Inej.” 

“But that’s different, that’s across land. And we’re still in the same time zone. You’re going to be across oceans, Alina.” She sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t support you, but I just...hope you’re thinking it through.” 

If there was one thing she knew she was, it was stubborn. Stubborn and defensive of the thing she had with Aleksander. “I am thinking it through. We’re taking the next step,” she said stiffly. 

Inej laughed at this. “Alina, he doesn’t even call you his girlfriend. The only formal relationship you two have is professional. And now you want to move across the continent for him?” 

It wasn’t for him, it was with him. “It’s not for him, it’s with him.” 

“All of your work is in Ravka. I’ve seen it, I know how much it means to you, we both know it. Your museums, your collections, your community work. Are you really so quick to abandon all of that, everything you built, to jump on his payroll and wait for him to come home everyday?” 

She grumbled. “I won’t be waiting for him to come home everyday.” 

“Then what will you be doing?” 

And Inej was right. She didn’t know what she would be doing, except following him to a country she’d never been to, didn’t know the language of, unspeakable distances away from her friends, the people she loved, her passions. He’d just said he was serious about her, and she desperately wanted to believe him. But she didn’t have an answer to her question, and Inej knew it too. 

Inej sighed, and her tone drifted into softness. “Have you told Mal yet?” 

She wished the neon lights could drift over her and swallow her up. The dance floor was packed, but they had a good vantage point, and she looked to where Mal was dancing with Jesper, Wylan, and Nina. He’d always been a terrible dancer, but where he lacked in skill he made up for in the size of his limbs and the presence of his body, and it was like his flailing arms worked in tandem with his torso and long legs to resemble something that could be called dancing. Somehow it worked for him. 

Perhaps sensing their gazes, Mal met her eyes from the floor and grinned, beckoning them to join them. At his invitation, Jesper and Nina joined in, waving their arms frantically, like it was life or death if Alina and Inej didn’t dance with them. 

Alina sighed. Inej knew the answer to this question too. 

“No. Not yet.” 

** 

She remembers being nervous to tell him. It wasn’t clear at first, but that’s because she hadn’t been paying attention - but Mal didn’t like Aleksander, not one bit. He never called him by his name, always Kirigan, or her boss. She thought he wanted to make digs at her, for having everything a girlfriend had with him except a tangible relationship status. Giving him everything, but having nothing to show for it. It made her feel small in those moments. 

But on that night they danced in hazy smoke and neon lights, and for a second she forgot all about her weird love life, and she put her hand in Mal’s, pressed her chest to his. He was so tall, and everytime she tipped her head up to look at him he was already looking down at her, and sometimes their bodies were close enough that she could feel the beads of sweat rolling down the back of his neck and the front of his shirt. It felt dangerous, like she was playing with fire. The heat between them was enough to light a furnace, keep her toasty even on the warmest winter nights. But she realized she didn’t want to be kept warm, at least not that night. She wanted to rip his shirt off and push herself against his bare chest, his bare body, his bare everything. 

Maybe he felt that too, because even when they left the club and made their way back to Nina’s flat, he wouldn’t keep his hands off her. Sure they were both drunk, sure they were both affectionate, sure the casualness of touch had never been an unmarked territory for them. But it was the little things, how when they held hands on the dark sidewalk, the chatter of their friends surrounding them, he swayed into her, or how when he leaned down to whisper something in her ear, he would graze his lips against her earlobe, there and then gone again, like she dreamed it, but how could she have, when she felt an electric shock every single time he did that? Somewhere beneath the tequila and the ringing in her ear she knew they were being reckless, that she was being reckless. Her and Mal were poking a bear that was going to do nothing but wake up ferociously and ruin everything it touched. 

It took her several hours again to remember Kirigan, and it was when she was laying on Nina’s couch in her dark living room, everyone else having already done their rounds of good nights. Mal lay perpendicular to her on the L-shaped sofa, their heads two pillows apart. She knew he was still awake. 

And maybe the strength of the drinks tonight gave her bravery. Maybe she thought about the bear being poked, waiting, ready to see what would happen. Maybe it was, but she sure as fuck was not. 

“Mal,” she whispered in the dark room. That and a silent plea to the universe to give her strength. 

“Hrmph.” 

“I’m leaving in a few weeks. Across the continent. With Aleksander.” 

She heard him sit up, blankets rustling, and she kept her gaze steady on the ceiling, willing herself to stay still. 

“What?” He didn’t give her time to reply. 

“Like...for a vacation?” She swallowed, and the words almost got caught in her throat. 

“Not...not vacation. I’m moving with him. To Novyi Zem.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she did that she could avoid Mal’s eyes. She didn’t have to look. She knew he was staring at her incredulously. 

But what she didn’t exactly expect was the anger that tinted his voice, and she shrank, afraid it was anger at her, like now was when he was finally going to cut her off for good. Sometimes she heard that tint in Aleksander’s words, and it left her helpless and hopeless and crying on the bathroom floor. 

“Why? Why with him?” 

Why with him indeed. She opened her eyes and willed herself to sit up on the couch. Mal faced her, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. She couldn’t understand why he looked so distressed. At the sound of her movement, he lifted his head up and looked at her. Something fierce blazed in his eyes, sparking with the same dangerous ferocity she felt on the sidewalk when his breath rattled around in her ear. So she looked away. 

“We’re just...taking the next step. He said he can move there for work, and asked me to come with him.” 

“You’re not even dating him,” he snapped. 

Anger began to coat her own words. She never expected Mal to be happy about her moving, but she never thought he would act this way. Granted the farthest they’d ever been apart their whole lives was the class trip they went on when their school still did gendered field trips, and even those were no more than a week long. But they needed to move on with their lives. She needed to - not run away but - something. A word she would fucking think of later. 

“I have every benefit of dating him,” she scoffed. She rose to her feet, and he rose too, and she stared at him with all her rising fury. “We’ve even talked about marriage, Mal, which I know is such a foreign concept for you, to ever imagine settling down, or anyone ever wanting to marry me-”

“That’s not what this is about Alina.” He spoke with such intensity, and his eyes burned with something, and she dared to let herself feel what she felt was the same something rising out of her chest and spilling out of her pores. Her feelings tumbled onto the carpet, out in the open, for Mal to see. The room was dark, but she could see him, and he could see her, illuminated by the moon. 

“You can’t be serious Mal,” she whispered. 

“Do you think this is something I would joke about?” He whispered furiously back at her. She stared at him, not realizing he crossed the two step gap between them, not realizing until his hands wrapped around hers, clutching her fingers, holding onto her like he was drowning. 

“Don’t go. Don’t go with him.” He squeezed her hands impossibly tighter, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. 

“Stay,” he choked.

“Stay and do what, Malyen?” Her brain and body were on overdrive, not thinking this through, never thinking clearly, never ever where him and her and her feelings were concerned. She always believed it to be old news, kept herself convinced of a childhood crush that was just that - beginning in childhood and ending in childhood. 

But a small part of her ached. For what, she did not know. 

He moved closer to her, impossibly, and brought up a hand to cup her face. On instinct she turned her face into his palm. Her instinct to always be near him, to always feel him. He had that instinct too, and brought his head down and touched his forehead to hers. 

“Stay. Stay here and be with me.” He whispered the words right into her mouth. Or did her breath draw his words out? It didn’t matter, except that they hung in between them, the implication pressed closer and closer to each of them as the distance between them closed, and then Mal’s mouth was on hers. 

His lips weren’t just warm. They were a bonfire. They carried something in them, and she wouldn’t let herself read what it was. She just pressed herself to him, hoping that the shape of her body against his would let him know every word she wouldn’t, couldn’t, let herself say. 

She stopped thinking at all, especially when his tongue slipped into her mouth, and she kissed him back fiercely, like it was her last day on earth and she had one more chance to eat something sweet. She would bite the sugar off of his bottom lip, suck it out from his skin. She wanted to devour him, and judging by the way his hands roamed all over her body, cupped her face, her neck, groped her ass, he wanted to devour her too. 

When her neck started to cramp, she fisted her hands in his shirt and backed them into the couch, scrambling to lift the soft material over his head and get her hands back on him. His bare chest was revealed to her, and she wanted to run her hands over the planes, masculine and steady and breathing hard because of her, for her. 

She dragged him over her, knocking them both into the couch, situating themselves until he lay on top, his palm covering her upper thigh, slipping under the hem of her sleep shorts. His mouth escaped hers, and he moved down to her neck, pressing hot kisses that gave her no control over her own mouth, which emitted tiny gasps and terrifyingly, one very breathy “Mal.” 

When his name fell from her lips, he groaned, and the hand on her ass found a new task, and together they violently worked as fast as possible to undo the buttons of her pajama shirt, and he watched intently as they came undone one by one, and even more intently as the shirt slipped open. She was breathing hard, tits out, looking at him, waiting for his next move. No thoughts ran through her head except the catalogue of where they touched. His legs, against hers. His pelvis, pressing into her center, making her squirm. His arm, bracing her head, his fingers running across her bottom lip. 

His other hand roamed. It pushed open her shirt first, started a trail at her waist, covering her belly button, and then he brought it up, like he was mapping her out, trying to memorize every plane of her body. 

That was something she could help out with, so she pushed his hand to cover her exposed breast, watched his face as he swiped his thumb over her nipple, and her breaths came out hard and fast. But it didn’t explain her pressing a light kiss to the fingers by her lips, nor what compelled her to reach her head out and draw his fingers into her mouth, sucking lightly and running her tongue along the side of them. 

Mal’s eyes snapped up when she did this, and she could hear the cracks in the porcelain, but she desperately ignored the signs. She just wanted this, one more second, one more minute, one more lifetime. 

“‘Lina I fucking swear to god,” he groaned, desperately leaning in to kiss her, groping her chest. He burned this feeling into her skin, but she could hear the spell shattering in the back of her mind, and it was like suddenly she realized what she was doing, and looked at him in horror. 

“Mal, get off me-”

“Alina, what’s-” 

He didn’t finish, just stood and gaped as she pushed him off her and stumbled off the couch, frantically buttoning up her shirt and straightening out her underwear. The horny half of her brain screamed at her in disbelief, that she had half a mind to run back into Mal’s arms and let him finish this, get her off at the least, savor the taste of him in her mouth, inside her.

The other half of her brain sounded the alarm, the alarm that she had a boyfriend - well not a boyfriend but now was hardly the time for semantics - but either way she was moving across the continent with him in no less than three weeks, and here she was in Nina’s living room with a shirtless Mal across from her, his hard-on staring her right in the face, the fact that he’d kissed her like they were dying, like the world was ending, forever ingrained in her memory. That he’d seen her topless, which wouldn’t have been too bad if not for the fact that he’d run his hands over her chest, a heated promise of every filthy thing he wanted to do to her, and what she wanted to do to him. 

When she was sure her shirt was securely buttoned, she took two steps away from him. The events had barely registered in her brain, and all she thought about was the burning imprint of his hands on her skin. Hands that didn’t touch her now, hands that belonged to his body, which included a face that was staring at her in disbelief. There was confusion all across it, yes, but also hurt, and it pained her to look at. 

She had to look away, because she just didn’t fucking know, she didn’t know she didn’t know, didn’t know what to do and she was so angry at him, to think that he could just kiss her, almost have sex with her on that couch, water the seed that lived in mind that whispered he would be the best lay she could ever have, tug out the creeping thought that once they did that, she would know for a fact that no one else in the world mattered, their conjoined bodies proving that it was just them in their orbits, circling each other, never once straying. So many thoughts flooded her head and she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t do that, so she yell-whispered angrily at the only person who was available, the person whose hands were just as bloody in creating this mess.

“I’m with someone, Mal. You can’t just - do that!” 

The confusion melted off his face, and anger replaced it. Or not anger, but rather the look he had before he swung punches, before he defended her from strangers on the subway or in crowded hallways, the look she’d seen written into his DNA since they were kids, lost and hopeless and hopeful and fighting, always fighting. He was fighting for something now, but she could not for the life of her understand what. 

“Are you serious? You’re hardly with him -”

“But that doesn’t give you the right! Just because there are terms to our relationship you don’t understand doesn’t mean you can just - barge in and expect me to drop everything and come running into your arms!” 

Mal took a step towards her, and she mirrored him and took a step back. He watched this movement as it seemed to stretch into infinity, and all the fight and color drained out of his face. His defeat gave her the energy she needed to have this part of the conversation, but it drained her too. Sucking on her life force, on the steady beating heart she knew and loved all her life. 

“I’m going with him.” He stared at her. She willed herself not to cry. A part of her, larger than she wanted to admit, wanted him to fight for her. 

“Fine,” he spat out.

“Fine,” she spat back.

So that was that then. She grabbed a pillow off the couch and stormed out of the living room, not looking back at him. “I’m sleeping in Nina’s room tonight. Don’t talk to me tomorrow.” 

There were a lot of firsts in that night - the first time her and Mal ever really kissed for their own pleasure, the first time the gained the knowledge of where the sparks of electricity between them would go if he touched her skin with his lips. 

The first fight that lasted more than a few days, in fact lasting a full two weeks. It was both of their faults she argued, but everytime she thought of picking up the phone to call him, the memory of him rushing over her like a tidal wave flooded her mind, and the emotion that was there, everything between them, it made her so fucking confused, and she felt so lost without him, but being near him was too much for her brain to handle. 

And so the radio silence continued. 

Which was pretty unfortunate, all things considered, because she really could’ve used his help with the packing. He would’ve been over in an instant, helping her sort through her belongings, placing them into their respective boxes. She wouldn’t have had to explain her packing and sorting system to him, because he already knew how she liked her things, and what went where, and what was most important to her. He already knew all of that because he knew her, and she wondered if he would be able to figure out how to detangle her thoughts from their web. She didn’t even know how, and if it wasn’t for the central conflict being, well, him, he would’ve helped her, patient and sturdy, as they detangled her emotions and thoughts and feelings. 

He wasn’t there to help pack, but when she pulled up at the airport, suitcases and carry-on bags stuffed to the brim, she saw him waiting on the bench by the curb. 

Maybe it meant something that him being there was unsurprising to her, somehow the most natural thing in the world, and her heart squeezed. Despite everything, Mal would always see her off before she traveled, wish her a safe flight, and kiss her forehead. She wondered idly what he would do now. 

Genya parked at the curb in front of his bench, and she whipped around to give Alina a quizzical eye. Zoya looked out the window from the passenger seat, observing Mal. They didn’t ask what happened in Kerch, and she didn’t want to know what theories they’d concocted to explain the longest stretch of silence between the forever inseparable forces of Mal and Alina. She didn’t know if they’d talked to him, but judging by the fact that he was sitting outside of her gate, at exactly the time she was going to be there, the question was pretty much answered for her. 

“Alina,” Genya started. 

“Go talk to him. We’ll grab your bags,” Zoya instructed. There was no way she was getting out of this, so she only sighed and climbed out of the backseat, and approached Mal slowly. He watched her as she crossed over to him, never once looking away. 

When it would only take two more steps to reach him, he stood up, and met her in the middle. Brown eyes met hers, and she squished her heart, demanding it stay down. 

“If you’ve come to yell at me more-”

“Look, Alina, I’m sorry-” They both stumbled over their words at the same time, and she laughed awkwardly. 

“You’re sorry?” 

He nodded and gulped. “I’m sorry. The entire thing is stupid. You should go, if it’ll make you happy.” And there it was, the slithering thought that him asking her to go only wanted to make her stay. She knocked it to the back of her mind. Not the time to think about that. 

“Okay. I will.” She didn’t think her voice quivered, but it was hard to tell when he was looking at her like that. 

He nodded again, and gave her a small smile. “Will you call me then, when you get there? Let me know how you’re doing?” 

“Always, Mal.” 

And so it was decided, woven into their words, that the olive branch they extended contained one striking condition. That they would never talk about that night again. It was probably for the best. 

Somewhere in their silence, Genya and Zoya had approached them with her bags, and they handed them off to her. She exchanged tight hugs with them, promises of Facetime Gals Brunch and constant activity in their group chat. 

It was almost time to go, and she turned back to Mal, who was looking at her suitcase. He tapped the tip of her shoe lightly with his sneaker. 

“Be careful, okay?” 

Her throat was dry. She was so fucked. But she nodded anyways, and tried to give him a convincing smile. The reality of leaving everyone behind, leaving Mal behind, had started to sink in, and in a last desperate attempt to calm her panic, she crossed over to his space and wrapped her arms around him. 

She would be away from everyone. She would be away from Mal. No late night movies, no spontaneous hang outs, no crashing on couches, no camping trips. Roaring 20s without the roaring, without the bubble of love she’d created around herself. What the fuck was she doing? As she clung to Mal, she thought her usual reasons for moving would push the doubt out of her mind, replaced with some blurry image of Aleksander, the promises he made for their future together, but they didn’t make a sound, and she was overwhelmed by how much she couldn’t believe she was willingly parting from the people she loved, and the one person, who was her person above all others in the world. 

It didn’t feel right. But all she did was sniffle, and eventually let go of Mal. Like she was just going away for a few days, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and ran his hands up and down her arms. But unlike when she was going away for a few days, he looked her straight in the eyes and she swore she saw a whole universe where she stayed behind with him.

“I love you Alina,” he whispered.

If she needed a list of the last fucking words she needed to hear right now, it would be those words, coming specifically from Mal’s mouth. A future she was going to meet became painted over with loneliness in her mind, and she wanted to flee the scene with his hand in hers. 

But she couldn’t do that, could only run like a coward, so she just replied, “I love you too Mal,” and tenderly walked out of his space, grabbing her bags and waving to her friends. She couldn’t avoid his gaze even if she tried, and when she crossed into the airport and looked back one last time, he only watched her as she walked away. 

**

And so Alina has a secret that she shares with Mal. 

The scent in the air when they kissed smells a lot like the air now, and if she closes her eyes it’s like they’re in Nina’s living room again. Crossing the threshold of processing that they’ll have to share a bed tonight has not even begun in her brain, because all she’s thinking about is how he pressed his body into hers, really into her. She thinks about their kiss at Genya’s wedding, soft and familiar. It lacked all the messy heat of the kiss before, but it made her head dizzier, because his mouth on hers made her something more than just needy for his body. 

And that’s the secret she keeps to herself. 

It’s that when Aleksander pulled out the ring, the first thing she thought was “But what about Mal?. It’s that everyday abroad she looked out the window, longing for a trace of the horizon she knew, thinking that maybe if she could see where she came from, where her heart was, then Mal could see her too, and they could imagine each other across the ocean and hope that he knew she was thinking of him. 

When she showed up at his doorstep in the pouring rain after months of being away and fewer months of limited contact, with all the possessions she could fit in two suitcases that cost her more than she cared for with the airline, her first thought when he opened the door was only that she was home. 

When he embraced her she honestly thought she was crying her heart out, tears spilling for what she really believed was love but turned out to be a lie, tears for her past self that lived happy and carefree and didn’t feel worthless and hopeless and small, and lastly, tears for what she lost. Love that she ran from, because she was nothing but stupid. Mal’s arms were home, his arms were hope, and she’d pushed him away and now here she was, ruined and a wreck and barely feeling like a person. 

There weren’t words available to ask his forgiveness, much less articulate the vast expanse of her emotions for him. It was just a feeling, an irrevocable condition, as they stood in the rain, and as she returned to herself, slowly but surely. With every box moved out of storage and into his flat, with every breakfast for dinner he cooked her, with every walk around the park they took. 

She thought about her ex, and she thought about her short lived engagement, the weight that drifted off her shoulders. 

But most of all, she thought of that night in Kerch and that day at the airport, when something fierce lived in Mal’s eyes, and how that very something had disappeared since she’d returned. He just took care of her, and she was wary at first, but eventually she let him, but she longs for the glint in his eyes. If he had it, he would see her again, and he would only need a second to see the same look reflected back at him.

She wants him something fierce. At Genya’s wedding, only a few weeks ago, he twirled her around, and she felt truly free again, like she could finally let herself be happy. Because she was incandescently happy in that moment, for herself, for her life, for her ability to survive. But she thinks she was happiest, the happiest she could be, because he was there with her, slotted into place next to her, the bright glimmer of a comet in the sky, the moment passing them unless she reached out her hand to grab onto it. 

She wants another chance. She wants to reach out and grab on, and never let go. But that would require a chance, and it would require Mal to give her one. She sighs. 

It feels unlikely. 

___

They go out that night, because of course they do, joining the wedding party, exchanging long hugs and squeals and rounds and rounds of shots as their Kerch friends lead them all around Ketterdam. Every hour it’s another explosion of energy, and their merry band loudly shifts clubs, crowding up the middle of the streets, hooting and hollering and lighting up the night with nothing but their laughter and their joy. 

They go to different parts of the city, and the group has expanded in more ways than one, joined by a towering blonde who smiles warmly if not slightly nervously at their rowdiness, never leaving Nina’s side, always whispering in her ear, keeping his hand at the small of her back. He makes her laugh, loudly, throw-her head-back-and-chortle kind of laugh, and Alina watches them and feels warm. 

She looks to her left, and sees Inej in the corner with the one and only Kaz Brekker, surly and moody in every way except not at all, because when he was around Inej anyone could see that he lit up, almost literally, and it made her giddy to think about the comfort they found in each other. 

And if she looks to her right, not to her right in some far off distance, but right next to her, shoulder pressed against her, she sees Mal, his hand wrapped around the handle of his glass tankard, his other hand dangling at his side, squished against them. Like a cat batting a string, she periodically swats his dangling hand around, and if she looked the other way she would think he didn’t notice, but she’s always looking at him now, and even when he’s talking to Jesper she’ll see his face break out into a grin, and maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s just him, but it makes her feel electrified.

In the middle of the fifth time she’s doing this, he grabs her hand, startling her, and laces their fingers together. Jesper’s drifted off towards his own beloved, and it's suddenly just the two of them in a dark nightclub, intoxicated and poised to do anything and everything to each other. 

“What are you doing you loon,” he laughs. 

He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, only drains his beer, and leads her to the dance floor, and she follows willingly. The rounds of alcohol are coursing through her veins, sparking wherever they touch. Maybe she’ll be lit on fire, she thinks, as he pulls her in towards him, as she wraps her arms around his neck. The bass beat rattles her veins, and the haze that settles over the two of them shimmers. 

She’s been here before. Or some version of this. This sweat, dripping down his neck and onto her hand, the air thick with a kick of sea salt. Neon lights, pressed bodies, cloudy smoke. The tequila stops her from remembering when and how, but it doesn’t stop her from moving along with him, their hips in tune as he brings his hands to her waist, his forehead to hers. 

What’s forged between them is electric. She’s never wanted him more. His hands remain at a respectable spot on her waist, but she looks up at him through her eyelashes in between the thump, thump of the bass, and need shoots out of her, unable to be contained any longer, which is maybe why she grabs his hand and puts it on her ass, and squeezes. 

His eyes flick to hers, alert, and it’s too loud to talk anyways, so she just gasps out a little laugh and brings herself even closer to him, his eyes widening. She can’t stop looking at his lips, but suddenly she’s thinking about her leg between his, his leg between hers. She has half a mind to be very publicly indecent and shove his fingers under her sundress, shove them inside her, but she doesn’t do that, just breaths out his name like every other word in the English language doesn’t matter, just him, him all over her, his breath and her breath together -

- which is what she’s thinking of when she presses her mouth to his. She’s drunk, drunk enough to forget to suppress her moan as soon their lips touch. And maybe he isn’t, maybe he’s got a thousand times more sense than her, because his mouth doesn’t move against hers like she thought, hoped it would, it just stays still and sucks her of her energy, her boldness. 

Maybe he doesn’t want her the way she wants him, not anymore, but he still wanted her once. She doesn’t think that would go away, not with her so willing, no room to be embarrassed, so she pulls her lips from his and stares him fiercely in the face, bringing the hands wrapped around his neck to cup his face, run through his hair. 

She can hear his breath hitching. He is not immune to the way he’s touching her, his hands on her ass, her leg grinding in between his thighs. She can feel how not immune he is to it, growing by the second, so she just traces her fingers on the underside of his chin, the outline of his lips, leaning in once more, breathing out into the world, “Please. I want this.” 

Maybe he doesn’t want her how she wants him, not anymore, but he certainly wants her one way, she thinks, as he rushes forward to kiss her again. This time they do move together, and it’s muscle memory that leads them, but daydreams that whisper what to do next, as they tumble into each other over and over again on the dance floor, his hands in her everywhere. The places he burned his handprint into long ago are relit, and she feels his phantom touch from that couch mix with where he touches her now, and it overwhelms her enough to bring his face up from her neck and drag him to the bathroom. 

The bathroom, where something pops in her head, and when she stops abruptly at the doorway, and he bumps into her, turning it into an opportunity to grind into her, press her back against his chest, and dip down his head to lavish her neck, and for a few seconds every thought flies out of her brain. 

“Wait, Mal, wait,” she turns in his arms, clutching onto him. “We should go back.” she gasps. 

“I-what?” He’s stumbling away from her, looking away, but she grabs onto his hand, steadying the both of them. 

“I mean, we should go back to the room,” she sighs, nibbling on his earlobe. She feels him nod, and by some miracle they exit the club, too intoxicated with each other and preoccupied with pushing the boundaries of public groping to say goodbye to their friends, much less notice their eyes follow them as they stumble out and back to the hotel. 

That was a tomorrow problem. This would all be a tomorrow problem, and when she pushes him onto the bed and rides him with her sundress on, she forgets all about the tomorrow problems, remembering only the burning of his skin on hers. 

___

As it turns out, it wasn’t even tomorrow's problem, or today’s problem, because they have a wedding to get to, and there isn’t exactly time to unpack the events of the night in between the bustle of activity. 

Okay, fine, and maybe there was time when she woke up in Mal’s arms, his naked body against her back, and she strategically maneuvered her body in ways that would wake him up. It was only eleven in the morning. Did she expect that he would hold her wrists down and eat her out for no less than an hour? No she did not, but things, like making a mental note that orgasm denial by Mal was her favorite kink in the entire world, took priority. 

At noon, when she thought maybe they had time to unpack the events of last night, fate stepped in, in the form of her stepping out onto the balcony and back into the room, only to realize that the entire place reeked of sex, and the smell probably coated her own skin. So no, she did not have time to unpack anything, not when she stepped into the shower while Mal went to grab pastries, only for him to return while she was still showering and join her. 

The hot water sprayed over their bodies, and the bathroom was fogging up but she didn’t think it was from the steam of the water anymore than it was from the heat passed back and forth between them. He washed her hair, gentle in massaging the suds around her scalp, rubbing a breath of freshness back into her skin. Actions that deserved a reward, is what she told herself, her show of gratitude for him far more important than whatever it was they needed to talk about. So she got on her knees and pushed him lightly against the bathroom wall, let the water hit their bodies as she took him in her mouth, drawing out every octave of his moans, squeezing her own thighs everytime he gasped her name. And when she was done, she didn’t think his fingers would find their way back inside her, but they did for long enough for her to grip onto him, for her legs to turn to jello, which was apparently enough for him to turn her around and take her against the shower door, the sound of the steady stream of water the background music to their moans. 

And now it was almost two, and she really needs to focus on actually getting ready, doing her hair and makeup at lightning speed, slipping into her lavender dress carefully but quickly, frantically avoiding Mal’s gaze as he puts on his tuxedo, because if she saw him in a state of half dress while wearing dress pants, there was no way they were ever making it out of this room. 

But her will to attend the Wesper wedding is stronger than her desire to try every sex position under the sun in 24 hours with one Mal Orestev, so they book it to the vineyard, sliding into the the white chairs a hair earlier than right on time, but her heart is beating so fast that it’s not until the wedding begins does she register where she is and what she’s doing. 

And what she’s doing is amazing. It’s watching Jesper and Wylan, two boys she loves very much, with all her heart, standing together, officially marking their life together. A wedding isn’t an end all be all, she thinks, actually knows this for a fact, but Alina was always a bit of a hopeless romantic, before she almost had her own colossal failure of a wedding. But that old Alina is coming back, and she finds there to be something unspeakably magical about standing tall and proud with someone you loved, declaring to the entire world that what you had was special, what you had was sacred. 

It didn’t have to be through marriage, and it didn’t have to be through a wedding either. Just the seizing feeling itself, of declaring your love, of having someone who loved you so wholly and completely by your side. She hasn’t ached for that in a long time, but watching her two boys shout about their own love from the mountaintops, she finds herself longing for it. But the ‘it’ isn’t some intangible feeling she’s chasing - it’s what she aches for now, with one person, and he sits next to her, listening intensely as Wylan recites his own vows. 

There are marks on her thighs that he sucked there this morning. They’ll fade in a day or two, but she’s always going to remember their exact placement, the precise colors they cycled through, how they signified something she’s known forever: that her heart belonged to him. 

But what about him? She didn’t know, and she didn’t know how to think about it, how to stop thinking about it. They’d humped like bunnies for the past twelve hours, but the feeling that surrounded her heart when it came to him was so far beyond just lust. It was her entire world. 

Wylan finishes his vows, and he has tears in his eyes. It’s not hard for her to be overcome with the same emotion he feels, if not for Jesper, then for Mal. The officiant begins his speech, and she feels the light drop of a tear fall onto her hand and looks down at it, surprised. 

The vineyard is so lush and green, so full of life, the officiant’s voice swimming in her head, promises of love in health and sickness, in good and bad. Mal always took care of her, saw her best and worst parts. He supported her pursuits to no end, made sure she ate three square meals a day when she forgot, and most importantly, let himself open up to her, let her take care of him and protect him as much as he did her. 

She keeps looking at the tears on her hand, shimmery and translucent, slow in rolling off her skin. She feels too much, sometimes regrets how completely and stubbornly and recklessly she lives and loves. As she thinks about this, there’s a rustle next to her, and she watches in slow motion as Mal moves his hand over hers, covering the one with her fallen tears. 

He stares straight ahead, paying rapt attention to the officiant, and she turns her head to the front of the aisle too, but her heart is in the space between their touching hands, and it beats the beat only for Mal as he interlaces their fingers. She doesn’t look down at their joined hands, just stares straight ahead, and lets the swirl of love in the air flutter in her chest. 

___

Was it appropriate, generally speaking, to ask your best friend/man you were in love with/life companion what it meant that the two of you had hooked up several times in the past 24 hours at the wedding of your other friend? 

This was the question of the day, and it was definitely the question of the evening, as the sun set over the vineyard and the ocean turned a sparkling orange color. The lighters were brought out, the champagne was poured, and Alina pondered this question at every step. 

Her ponderings were more of the breaks in her celebrating, because this was her friend’s wedding and not some melodramatic fifty minute montage of her looking dramatically at Mal in slow motion, and then at the ocean, and then back at Mal, and then at the ocean, and so on and so forth. 

But she can’t help wondering what he was thinking, throughout the wedding, throughout the reception. He just kept looking over at her and smiling, and she smiled back, but - what the fuck was he thinking? His actions offer no insight into his thoughts, and she has no idea if she should be prepared to find a different room to sleep in that night or if she’s about to get her brains fucked out later that night. At this point, she isn’t sure which she prefers. 

She hits the champagne hard - but not as hard as Genya’s wedding, so while her head feels swimmy, she knows she’s in full control of her body (check), mind (check), heart, soul, etc. (check, check, check). Mal sits beside her almost the entire night, sipping some fancy whiskey that Kaz slid across the table to him. 

They circle each other the whole time, sitting next to each other but never really talking to each other, always in separate conversations with their joint friends, being whisked away at some time or other to dance, always next to each other, never with each other. 

Not until the sky is a dusty dark blue, and the sea is a twinkling reflection of it. She spins out of Jesper’s hands and right into Mal’s, and time moves a little slower, and she swears the twinkling bulbs above them are flickering to the pace of her heartbeat. There’s no seven-piece band this time, but there is a band, and there is a flautist, and they play a slow tune, and she’s sure that a slice of heaven exists here, in between them. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

He doesn’t twirl her this time - it’s not quite that song, but he does draw her in closer, places his hands respectably on her waist, as if he didn’t spend last night becoming well acquainted with every part of her body. She sways along with him, bringing her hands around his neck, and they’re back where they were twenty-four hours ago, but this time they’re less sweaty, less hurried, and she’s been thinking about love for the past day, and the intensity at which it burns inside her chest. 

“Would you consider this an improvement from twenty-four hours ago?” he asks with an amused expression. Shit, did she say that out loud? 

She hums. “Not better or worse. Just different.” He nods, like it’s an agreeable answer, and they continue to sway, songs passing them by. 

After a few, his sudden voice almost startles her. “Do you ever think about that last time we were here?” 

She looks up at him. She thinks about it everyday, but there’s too much of a confession in those words, so she just offers him a nod. 

He nods too. Something in his face flickers. Something familiar. “I think about it everyday,” he says, and all she knows is to stare at him in silence, and he stares back at her, his gaze intense. 

“I was an idiot,” he continues. “I should’ve tried harder to stop you.” Mal seems okay with having this conversation with himself, and he looks past her head. She watches him get lost in his own thoughts. She does not understand what he is saying. 

“Mal?” 

His eyes flick to hers once more, and - oh. There it is again, the glimmer in his eye, beautiful and lovely, as rare as a shooting star. The same look in her own eyes. 

“Would you have let me? If I’d tried harder?” 

She nods, numb to her body except where they meet. She loves him so much, but it’s not hurting quite as much. It’s turning into something else. 

“I shouldn’t have tried so hard to get away,” she confesses. She was scared then. She’s scared now too, but this fear doesn’t make her lose hope in her life, and instead gives her bravery and courage. Or maybe it’s just Mal. 

He shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he starts, and tucks a curl behind her ear, his smile soft. “We’re here now.” 

What was now? Maybe her state of mind, warm, comforting, content. Maybe what she feels, scrunched up dress shirt under her hands. Maybe the smells, the sea, the marker of that one fateful night, and the future, starting tonight. 

Maybe now isn’t a time at all. It expands beyond that; a person, a place, a thing, a feeling that runs deep throughout her and extends out to him, bringing their lives closer together until they align at the perfect moment. And maybe that was now. 

“We’re here now,” she repeats. Maybe they would be here forever. Maybe they could have forever. 

He brings his head close to hers, their foreheads touching. Loving Mal is the easiest thing she does, as natural to her as breathing. She thought she knew him inside and out before, but now she truly does, unlocking the door where she lives in his heart, and stepping through. Where his heart belongs to her. 

“And we’re going to have forever,” he whispers, “because I love you. Alina Starkov.” 

“And I love you. Mal Oretsev.” 

There, shimmering, it floats past her, and she grabs on tight, lets it sweep her away.

She’s never letting go. 

[knickynoo]

Funny how in Family Ties, most of the girls Alex dates over the course of the series are so completely his ideological opposite. I mean, of the more memorable/significant girlfriends there's Deena (the girl Alex is so smitten with that he goes to the ERA meetings), Ellen, and later Lauren. All of them very much the outspoken, headstrong, feminist type. Politically left. Embodying the beliefs and opinions that pretty much make Alex froth at the mouth under most circumstances.

And yet this staunch conservative who's so unyielding in his own principles consistently falls head over heels in love with these young women who you'd expect him to not even be able to stand in the same room with, let alone date.

That's not to say that people with opposing political beliefs can't fall in love and make a relationship work. It happens all the time. It's just especially surprising when it comes to a guy who has a picture of Nixon on his nightstand and would gladly live in a bank if given the chance.

But then you stop and think and it's like, hmm...why on Earth is Alex P. Keaton so often ending up with significant others who take the whole "opposites attract" thing to such an extreme? Why would he be drawn to these strong-willed, free-spirited, democrats?? 🤔🤔🤔 Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that he's been raised by a mother with those very same qualities. Surely it's not because he so clearly thinks highly of his mom and sees the love between his parents and is searching (perhaps without realizing it) for that same sort of relationship. Nope.

Anyway, I've babbled long enough. I just think it's sweet the way that so many of the gals in APK's life mirror Elyse. (In a totally non-creepy way, of course. If anything, it shows how much Alex respects his mother that he wants to be with someone like her.)

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Hey, Stranger

alright guys, gals, and non binary pals! I present to you ‘Sex with a Stranger (but not really a stranger)’! so excited to be a part of @berrynarrybanana ‘sex bucket list fic challenge! theres a ton of talented ass writers participating in this, so be sure to check it out!

here is 6.5k words of absolute filth and smut! literally this stuff is filthy i was shook myself

masterlist

A well deserved break was in your favor. 

A long break that had to do with a lot of drinking and perhaps fucking, if you’re lucky enough tonight. 

Work has been stressful lately. Being the CEO of an up and coming makeup brand has its perks. The new season called for a new line of makeup and the whole process would start again. The countless meetings with the design team, marketing team, and the factory; all while hoping everything runs smoothly. 

It was the busiest season of the year trying to come up with new and better ideas for your brand, and hoping everyone likes it. 

Needless to say, you needed a break. A well deserved break at that. 

It’s been a while since you properly went out by yourself. You’re not even sure if you’ve ever been out by yourself, especially to a bar. It was a last minute decision that you told yourself that you were going to step out and have a drink after work, and it would’ve been too late to call anyone up considering it was 8 at night. 

Work had been keeping you at the office later than usual, and you hated it. You were a firm believer of having downtime and taking care of your body and skin after work, but you get home so late that all you want to do is crash; not given enough time to relax. 

But it was Friday night and you thought that a drink to celebrate the end of the working week was enough to go out. 

You walked through the door of the bar, seeing that there were a good amount of people there, but it wasn’t too overcrowded. You took a seat at the counter, and the bartender had already seen you, making his way to you. 

“Hi. Can I get a shot of tequila please?” 

“Sure thing,” he replied and quickly took out a shot glass and reached for the tequila bottle that was at the top of the shelf, and poured it. “Want a lime? Or a chaser to go with that?” He asks as he sets the glass right in front of you. 

“Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” Without a thought, you downed it, letting the burning liquid run down your throat. The bartender was still in front of you, an impressive look on his face. “Can I get another please?” He nods, and pours you another, which you gulp it quickly. He waits for you to ask for another, “I’m okay right now. I’ll call you if I want another, thanks,” he nods and serves his other customers. 

You start eating the peanuts that were set right in front of you as you remembered that you didn’t have much to eat before; just a small salad with coffee for lunch. No wonder why you were so hungry, practically devouring the whole bowl of peanuts. 

“Pretty impressive to down two shots in a row,” a man takes a seat right next to you. You couldn’t help but think how attractive he is. His hair was short and slightly curly at the top along. Overall, his face was just too pretty. 

“Why, were you watching me?” You tease. 

“How could I not when a pretty girl walks into a bar and orders two shots and downs them back to back?” He smirks and your face is hot. The two shots and very little food you’ve eaten had made your face fluster. 

“Wow, that whole thing you said sounded like a song. Are you a musician?” He laughs, genuinely laughs. The whole head thrown back and his fist banging on the counter. 

“Of some sorts. I’m Harry,” he takes his hand out to shake, and you take it.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” 

“And you are?” 

“Whatever you want to call me tonight,” you smirk. 

“Oh, so we’re playing like that, huh?” His brows raise and you nod, giving him a ‘mhm.’ “Well, if that’s the case, I reckon we’re gonna have a lot of fun tonight,” his eyes turn dark and you have no idea what you’re in for, but oh, you’re so ready for it. 

“Tell me,” he starts and you raise your eyebrows, “tell me what you like being called.” 

“Hmm. There’s a few that I can think of,” you think up, pretending to think.

“Yeah? Care to share?” 

“I think I’ll save that for when it happens,” you tease. 

“And when do you think it’ll happen?” He smirks. 

The sexual tension between you two is insanely thick. With back and forth teasing and smirking, you two are building up the tension and connection, and there is absolutely no doubt that you have a connection with this stranger. 

“I think it’ll happen a lot sooner than you think,” you give him a look as if you’re saying ‘how does that sound?’ 

“Do you mind if I touch you?” He suddenly asks. 

“Quite the gentleman you are when you’re going to tear me up tonight,” you joke, but quite literally meaning it.  

“Always a gentleman out of the bed, but don’t expect me to be nice to you in bed,” he tests. 

“Oh, I don’t expect you to be. Want you to go for it. And by the way, yes you can touch me.” 

Harry grabs your hand, caressing it. It had surprised you because you had expected him to go somewhere less innocent than holding hands. You feel the soft rubs of his thumb, gently rubbing over your skin, and the small touch of his sends electrical sparks throughout your body. You’ve never felt like this. The slightest touch of someone you don’t know and had just met had this effect on you, and it blew your mind. 

“What are you trying to do, Harry?” You take a deep breath as he begins rubbing your leg. He starts off slow, starting at the knee, testing to see if it was okay, and when he looked up at you, he saw you nod and began circling his single finger across your thigh. 

He made all sorts of patterns across your thigh, and you had wished that you were wearing a skirt or shorts just so you could feel it on your actual skin, but the thick barrier of denim was in the way. 

Harry’s face was close to yours and you think he’s about to kiss you, but his face steers him next to your ear. You feel his run closer to your heated core, but not just there yet. He was running his finger in your inner thigh, making you squirm in your seat and hit breaths coming out of your mouth, hitting Harry’s ear. 

“I’m trying to get you ready. Is that okay?” He finally answers your question, and you had totally forgotten that you had asked that due to the distraction of an insanely hot man teasing you to your death. 

“Get me ready for what exactly?” 

“I’m sure you know what.” 

“Hmm, rather have you tell me,” you hear him take a breath in and out. What you don’t expect next was that his finger had made its way in between your thighs, pushing down on your clit. The feeling had totally shocked you, not expecting him to touch you in such an open and public place, but you honestly are far from caring. 

“Wanna lick and eat your pussy when I take you back to my place. I want you to cum all over my mouth that your legs give out. Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re sore. Gonna fuck you till you remember me for the next guy you wanna fuck because let’s face it, darling, all you’ll be thinking about is me. You’re gonna come back to my cock and begging me to fuck you over and over again,” he tells you sensually in your ear, all while pressing down on your clit and moving his thumb around. The friction between your thick jeans and his finger felt amazing, and it took so much in you to not buck your hips into his finger. “How does that sound?” He says, coming face to face with you. 

The dominant side of him is showing heavily. But you were one to not put down a fight. 

“That sounds great, in all honesty, and I would absolutely love that. But I’ll believe it when you show me. You could be all talk for all I know,” you’re practically challenging him to your death. You know this guy would fuck you good. Hell, the way he’s just talking to you is leaving you a stain on your panties from your arousal. 

“You’re testing me, darling,” he shakes his head. “But if you really wanna know, how about I take you to my place right now and I’ll show you?” He stands from his stool. 

You shrug your shoulders, “okay,” you stand as well, grabbing your purse. “But aren’t you gonna kiss me first?” Harry raises his eyebrows, shocked this woman is even asking that when he’s literally about to fuck her brains out. “What? All I’m thinking is that what if our first kiss is horrible when we get back to yours? So if the kiss is horrible then the sex will definitely be worse,” you know you’re on his last nerve, and you’re surprised he hasn’t moved on to the next girl to pull his moves on, but he seems to be enjoying the bantering. 

“Okay, that’s fair. Can I kiss you darling?” Harry asks just like the gentleman he is. 

“Yes. Please kiss me,” you plead. 

Harry wastes no time in connecting your lips together. Soft lips that mold together when they become one. The taste of alcohol on each other’s tongue can drive you both drunk; drunk in one another’s taste, lips, hold. You had wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he wraps his around your waist. The two of you both kiss each other in the middle of the bar, not giving a single fuck that people are still around and they can obviously see. You’re so caught up in him, he’s so caught up in you that neither of you don’t care to stop. 

The only thing that does make you two stop was the drop of glass shattering, startling the both of you to pull away from one another. Some random guy had dropped his drink, making a complete mess on the ground, and all the attention was turned on him. Luckily, away from you and Harry. 

“How was that?” He asks, in hopes that you would still let him take you home, 

“It was good. Really good.” There was no point in playing with him if he’s actually good in bed. You knew that the first time he sat next to you. But god, that tongue is driving you crazy, and it’s sending so many thoughts of what else that tongue can do to your body. 

“Then let’s save the rest for later, darling. Reckon we put on a show,” he chuckles, placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through the door. “Really not gonna tell me your name yet?” 

“Hmm, nah. Maybe after you fuck me. I believe you’re already too attached,” you tease. 

Harry laughs and shakes his head, and thinks this girl is gonna be the death of me. 

The ride to his house was anything but awkward. Harry had called his driver, not wanting to risk driving even though he’s only had one drink, but really he just wanted to be close to you. You’ve never met someone who has their own personal driver, and it amazed you how much money this guy has. Not like you were interested in the money because frankly, you were only in it for the hot sex you’re about to have with, but damn! Hot stranger with hot sex and hot money? Why the fuck not. 

As soon as the door shut and the car started moving, he grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours. He told you that he was saving the kisses for later, but he couldn’t help it. Your lips were irresistible that he needed to feel it against his again, along with other places, but he’s only a handful of minutes away and then he’ll be graced with the beauty of her lips around his cock. 

His aching and hard cock, to be exact. 

Once the car comes to a stop, he thanks his driver and leads you out the car and to his front door. You stand behind him as he tries getting the right key into the slot, but he’s shaking and anxious because of his excitement. 

You made the bold move to reach over and palm his bulge. Harry’s breath hitches in his throat as he continues fumbling with his keys. Your front is pressed to Harry’s back, squeezing him through his pants. You can tell he’s big and ready to be taken care of. 

“Never gonna get in the house if you keep doing that,” he moans out, finally relieving some of the pressure that went straight to his cock. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help but notice how hard you were when we were in the car, so I had to feel for myself,” you say against his back, kissing him through his shirt. He turns his head to the side, so you could hear what he’s about to say loud and clear. 

“Keep it up or I’m fucking you against the door that you’ll be screaming my name so loud that you would wake up my neighbors.” 

“You act like I’m opposed to that,” you giggle, but he takes your hands away from his dick, practically throwing it off.

He turns around slightly towards you, and his eyes darken, “be good.” You practically go silent after that as he turns back around.

He finally unlocks the door, pulling you instead to his house before smashing your lips against his. The quick movements had shocked you as you tried observing his wealthy home, but didn’t get a chance to due to his lips. 

Heated kisses dominate your mouth as your back hits the closed door. His tongue repeatedly touches yours, making your knees weak, and if it wasn’t for Harry holding you so tight, you would have definitely fallen. 

It was like you were finally waiting for this moment to come. The tension at the bar was so sharp that just upon meeting each other, there was a pool in your panties and a hard on in his pants. 

And to which, the arousal you both had are both hot and ready to devour one another to pleasure. 

“Can I touch you?” He one last time, knowing that this time you were turning in your full permission and submission. He already knew you were weak for him when you had said yes the first time, but again, he is a gentleman. 

You nod and lift the hem of his shirt up a bit, raking your nails on his love handles as you earned a moan from his that directed to your mouth. Harry unbuttons your jeans and pulls down the zipper, not finding enough time to fully take your pants off before his hands are down your pants already. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it gently in slow circles and he feels your wetness lubricating his fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispers out. You only nod, not wanting to speak but only wanting your lips to be occupied by him. His finger finally touching your raw and bare pussy sent shivers down your spine. You were waiting for it ever since he had gotten close to you. 

He pulls his lips back from yours and starts kissing your neck as he undos the buttons of your shirt, and lifts it up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and jeans. He trails down to your collarbones and works the latches of your bra, unhooking it to reveal your breasts. 

“Your tits, holy shit,” he immediately takes on your nipples, sucking and biting it while grabbing the other and fondling it, and switches and does the same. Once he’s done, he kisses his way down to your stomach, pulling your jeans down fully along with your panties. 

You had worn a red lace cheeky panty, feeling the most confident in sexy underwear. “Gonna have to see you in that another time, love,” the thought of him saying another time had made your heart drop. You couldn’t deny the connection between you two. Although not knowing him well enough emotionally, the physical connection was so strong. 

“Fucking lick me already,” you pant out breathlessly, already feeling heated from his teasing kisses. 

“Alright, alright,” you had expected him to lick you up already, but he still continues with kissing your skin and sometimes sucking on it, leaving a hickey. He kisses your pubic bone and thighs before hiking one leg up to rest on his shoulder, and starts licking a strike up your heated core. 

Harry flicks his tongue on your clit many times before sucking on it as you're a moaning mess standing above him. You grab a fistful of his curls before slightly bucking your hips, grinding against his tongue. The sensation running through your body is powerful, and you're lucky your leg is on Harry’s shoulder or else you would have collapsed. 

“Fuck, yessss,” you moan out as you continue grinding on his tongue. Harry stops you from moving by pulling back a little before inserting two fingers inside your pussy and continues flicking his tongue on your clit. His fingers curl up to meet the spongy spot inside of you, taking you to the brink of your orgasm. “Keep doing that,” he doesn’t stop fingering you and you continue with your motion from before, needing to feel pressure on your clit with his tongue. 

“Taste so good, baby,” he says quickly before proceeding to lick and suck your clit. 

“Mhm,” you whine out, “I’m gonna cum, baby,” you say as your hips buck. 

“Cum on my face, please. Need it,” he urges out, continuing to curl his fingers into your pussy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you had felt like a water balloon inside you had exploded, feeling the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. Harry lets go of your leg that was resting on his shoulder and kisses your clit once more and the inside of your thighs, before kissing up to your lips. When you put your foot down on the ground, you were welcomed by a wet floor. You tried looking down at the mess you’ve made, but Harry’s lips caught yours, and you feel his wet chin that’s dripping your inside fluids off of his chin and down to your chest and the taste of your orgasm on his lips, making the scene so erotic and filthy. 

“Be careful, you might slip. Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah? Maybe you can make a mess on my sheet like you did my floor. Didn’t know I got squirted in my hands,” he grabs the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and your legs go around his waist. You were about to kiss him, feeling lost without it, but he needed to watch his step as he turned out, not wanting to slip and hurt both of you. 

He carries you to the bedroom as you kiss his face and his neck, and it takes so much in him not to just fuck you where he’s standing. Once he finally sees the bed, he makes sure he’s close enough before he practically throws you on it. A squealing yelp comes out of your mouth as you giggle slightly. 

Harry was still fully clothed as you’re fully naked, but you wanted to change that as soon as possible. You motion him to come towards you with your finger, and he walks towards the edge of the bed, standing above you. You sit on your knees on the bed, and lift his shirt up halfway so he could take it off. And once he does, you admire his body. His beautiful body that you’ve been aching to see. The one that doesn’t compare to anyone else, and all you want to do is love on him and fuck him. 

“Fuck, look at you,” you breathe out before you kiss his neck and trail down to his chest. His tattooed chest was something you wanted to look out forever. You wanted to kiss each and every single one of his inked designs, but you do that to what is right in front of you. You kiss the swallow tattoos, kissing down the middle and stopping at his pecs. You lick one of his nipples and do the same to the other, and Harry had not expected you to do that at all, but he isn’t complaining. You then trail down to the butterfly on his stomach, kissing it loads before going down to the ferns that lay at the bottom. His body is so sexy, so magnifying, and you wanted to engulf every single inch of him. 

You managed to get his belt off, and start working on the button and his zipper, pulling it down just enough to see the entirety of his underwear. Harry quickly takes off his jeans and kicks them to the side as he stands in just his underwear. You continue kissing his stomach, deciding that you weren’t done leaving a trail of your lips all over his body so he wouldn’t forget about this night. You fondle him over his briefs, relieving some of the pressure that is his hard cock, and Harry moans. 

A smile is present on your mouth, happy to hear his sensual moan. “So hard for me already,” you look up through your lashes. 

“Been hard since the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he looks down at you, and you smile, blushing at his statement. 

You finally release the restraint that is his underwear, and his dick springs up. You lick your lips hungrily, looking up at him. “You’re so fucking big, holy shit.” 

“Stroking my ego, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, and stroking your cock,” you lick your hand and grab a hold of him, stroking your hand up and down, working him up. As your hand works against him, you suck the skin of his hip, leaving multiple hickeys on his skin. 

You finally lick up his cock from base to tip, and take his tip inside your mouth, sucking lightly. You then take more of him, hollowing your cheeks. 

“Yeah, baby. Do it like that,” Harry groans out. He pushes all of your hair to one side, so he could see your face. You were in an all fours position, and it was hurting your back and neck, but you didn’t care; only wanting Harry to feel the pleasure right now. 

You start taking more of him, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat and your nose pressed up against his pubic bone. Harry moans get stuck in his throat and you release him. 

“Like that? Like when you can feel the back of my throat? Like when you’re in my mouth? Huh…daddy?” The name had slipped and you didn’t expect it. But it had turned you on even more, and you were hoping it did the same to him. 

And oh, it did. 

His eyes turn dark as he looks down at you with his cock in your hand, pumping it. He smirks, grabbing a fistful of your hair, bringing you up to his lips. Your forehead is pressed against his and his lips graze yours, and you want to desperately kiss them. And you try to, but he tugs your hair back. 

“You wanna call me daddy? Yeah? Be a good little girl and suck daddy’s cock, and let’s see if you have the honor of calling me that. Got it?” You nod, not trusting your voice and also surprised how fast his tone changed. He pushes your head back down to his cock and you take him back in your mouth. Your mouth works on him, having to move from side to side because of the position you're in, which causes your whole body to move as well. 

From Harry's view, he’s got the view of your naked back and your ass. He lets one hand go from your hair and reaches forward to slap one cheek causing you to moan around him. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he whispers out, feeling the vibrations from your moans straight to his dick. 

The second time he said the pet name, it made you clench. It caused your thighs to slightly close and make you moan around his cock. And Harry notices and he thinks he hit the jackpot.

He pulls out of your mouth again and brings your face to his with both hands on the sides of your face. 

“You like that, huh? Like being called a good girl? Didn’t wanna fucking tell me your name because you wanted me to call you good girl. Think you were being a good girl? I certainly don’t think so. Do you think so?” Your hair was a wild mess, mouth still wide open like his big cock had jammed it open. He slips his thumb in your mouth, “answer me.” 

“No, don’t think I was.” 

“Exactly, I didn’t think you were either. But since you wanna be called that so bad, prove to me that you are by sucking me good,” he lets go of you and you bend down to continue sucking him. 

He starts bucking his hips, fucking your mouth, and hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag around him. It had felt amazing to him, having you gag around him, but decided to stop, not wanting to hurt you. 

“Do it again? Want you to fuck my mouth,” you beg. He doesn’t hesitate to thrust into your mouth, starting off slowly though, not wanting to push you. 

After a thrusting a few or more times, he starts holding your head when he reaches the back of your throat and your face is pushed up against his body. You tried your very best not to push away; opening your mouth wider than ever and relaxing your throat. Harry pulls you off of him and a string of saliva hangs from your lips to his tip. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking mouth, baby,” he pulls your face up to meet his, giving you a heated kiss. “You may call me daddy. Your mouth is so filthy already. Sucking me so good. You definitely are a good girl.” He kisses your lips and moves down to your neck. 

“Thank you, daddy.”

Now that foreplay is out of the way, he can’t wait to stuff himself inside of you. He had gone to get a condom, but you told him that you were clean and was on the pill, and said that he could go bare as long as he was clean. He immediately agreed and told you that he was clean and he just recently got tested, and if you wanted to see the result. You laughed, telling him no and that you trusted him. 

You lay on your back against the pillows and he hovers over you, giving you a few kisses before he reaches between you and lined himself up with your pussy. 

He finally pushes in and you both let out a moan in a sigh of relief. The feeling of the two of you connected, increased your arousal as Harry started thrusting in and out of you. Your hands were placed on his hips, pulling him close if possible; wanting him close as he pounds into you. 

“Feels so good,” your head throws back onto the pillows. Harry grabs both of your arms from around his waist before lifting them up above your head, holding your wrists in one hand. The other hand places a hand on one of your breasts, squeezing it harshly. 

“Yeah? Who feels good, baby?” He drives even deeper into you. 

“You, daddy. You feel so good,” you practically scream out. 

“God, baby girl, you feel amazing,” his head is thrown back in ecstasy, feeling you coat his cock with your arousal. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you bite your lip and innocently look him in the eye, but you’re far from innocent, 

“No, thank you. Just met and you’re already calling me daddy. Fuck, where have you been all my life?” He continued to thrust like there’s no tomorrow—harder, deeper, and all you could do is take it and moan. 

“Been so…lost…without you. Harder, please.” You feel yourself start slipping. Your head begins to feel dizzy as he relentlessly attacks your pussy with his cock. The pain and pleasure had taken over your mind, swirling and jumbling your words and thoughts. 

“My good baby girl wants it harder, huh?” You nod as you shut your eyes, feeling so much pleasure as Harry starts thrusting harder and faster, making a moaning mess out of you, his chest slightly sweaty from the movement and your back damped from the writhing above the sheet.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?  You’re here and you’re mine. Right, baby? You’re mine now?” Harry’s dominant side is seeking through, needing the praise and the reassurance. 

“Mhm…here and yours.”

“That’s right. Wanna be a good girl and ride my cock?” You nod and he pulls out of you, a whimper leaving your lips from the absence of him, and lays right next to you before pulling you on his body. You barely had any time to register what was happening, because it was all happening too fast for your liking, you found herself straddling him and he immediately lined himself up again, and pushed you down to sink onto him. 

You slowly start grinding on him as you were still in her hazing state. Everything was so fuzzy, but you continued to bounce on him, wanting to make him happy. 

“Good, baby girl. That’s so good,” he moans out, gripping your hips hard as he guides you up and down his cock. His hands trail up your stomach, stopping at your breasts to give them a harsh squeeze. He then reaches up to suck on them before covering them again with his hands. “Love your fucking tits.” 

Your hands cover his big ones grabbing your tits, and it’s a sight for Harry. His baby girl was riding him, eyes closed, mouth open, him touching her tits, and her touching his hands touching her tits. He was practically in heaven. 

“Gonna cum, daddy,” you whimper. You open your eyes and fall on his chest, all while still moving your hips. “Please, let me cum? Please, daddy?” You’re nose to nose with him, pleading to let you feel pleasure to the full extent. 

“Hold it, baby. I’m nearly there,” he says, kissing your cheek. A pout formed on your lips and you whined a little, feeling like you’re going to explode anytime soon. But you wanted Harry to reach his high too, so you don’t say anything and you hold it. 

“Fuck me then? Please, fuck me?” 

“Hold on tight, okay?” Your arms wrap around his neck and your face is buried right next to his head. The gaps were closed between you two, and you’re so close to him that it was starting to get hot, but in the best way. 

Harry wraps his arms around your torso, hugging you to him as he plants his feet onto the bed, and starting fucking up into you. His thrusting is fast and hard with skin slapping against each other and moans were only heard, and he’s there. He’s on the edge. 

“Daddy…” you say softly in his ear, practically begging him to give you his permission. “Please.”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum for me, yeah?” And with that, you cum…hard. So does Harry; shooting his hot cum deep inside of you with a loud groan of relief escaping his lips. “God, yes.” 

You softly grind down on him, riding your orgasm out until you feel a familiar squirting between your legs and on Harry's stomach. 

“Mmm,” you whine out. 

“Doing so well for me, baby girl. Cumming so hard for me, right?” You only nod, continuing to cry out. 

He pushes you off of him and you whimper, feeling lost without his body pressed up against yours, even though he’s inside of you still. You’re sitting up, straddling him, and you start feeling pressure on your clit. Harry’s thumb presses against it and starts rubbing it fast. 

“Ohh…” the feeling gets you to your next orgasm, grinding down on his cock as he rubs your clit. 

“One more, yeah? Got one more in there for me?” He challenges.

“Mhm…for you, daddy.”

“That’s right. For daddy, yeah? Come one, baby. Squirt for me again.” 

And you do, you squirt until your legs are shaking, and Harry’s body and sheet are covered in your juices. Your cries are loud, but it’s full of pleasure and the feeling of overwhelm. This just takes you more into a headspace, and with the shaking of your legs, it makes you even more dizzy. 

You collapse on Harry’s chest, wrapping your arms around him, wanting to feel him close as possible. You bury your face in his neck, practically crying against his neck, and you feel his hands rub your back and his lips against your temple. 

“Hey, hey. Why’re you crying?” He tries pulling your face out of his neck, but you whimper, not wanting to let go. “Come on, look at me, please?” His eyes had gone soft for the crying figure on top of him. He knew you were probably too overwhelmed and sensitive from all the pleasure, especially the full and hard orgasms. 

After a few minutes, you pull your head out of his neck and he’s met with glossy eyes and damped cheeks. He kisses your lips quickly, before asking, “what’s wrong, baby?” 

“Don’t wanna leave, daddy. You’re gonna kick me out now,” you sniffle. 

“What? No, I’m not. Baby, you live here too. Not gonna kick you out,” Harry frowns. 

“Yeah, you are because I’m supposed to be just a one night stand, and Daddy doesn’t do sleepovers and we just met.” 

“Hey, I’m Harry, alright? Come back to me. It’s Harry. You know Harry, right?” You only nod your head. “Your brain is all fuzzy, thinking I’m just daddy and I’m supposed to kick you out. No, it’s not like that, okay? We were just playing, remember?” He scratches your head. 

“Daddy’s not gonna leave or kick me out?” You look at him with your glossy eyes, begging him for you to stay.

“Daddy or Harry’s not gonna kick you out. Nor are they going to leave you. Ever.” He could feel you starting to relax on him, taking deep breaths rather than hearing your cries. “Come on, miss my girl. Want you back. It was nice ‘meeting’ you at the bar, but I miss you so much,” Harry says in soft and a hushed voice. He cradles her and hums, trying to get you to come back to the world. 

After a few minutes, he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep in his hold, but you lift your head up, and he smiles. 

“Hey there, pretty lady.” 

“Harry?” 

“Welcome back, stranger,” he kisses her nose and you smile at his affection. 

“I went under again, huh?” Your face looked so defeated, like you were embarrassed. Sometimes you hated being in subspace because you have no clue and no control of how you’re acting. 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. You’re completely safe when you are and stop worrying too much. There’s nothing you could do or say that would make me leave you. Married you, so you’re stuck with me.” You nod, feeling slightly better. Harry was always so good with reassurance and aftercare when you’re in subspace or not. He’s also so caring and that’s one of the many reasons why you love him. 

“Thank you,” you say softly in his neck. 

“Of course. Always gonna take care of you,” he hugs you closer for a moment, relishing every moment he gets when you’re in his arms. “Now, let’s go take a bath? Let me wash you up before we sleep.” 

“Mmm. Don’t wanna move,” you say as you get comfortable on his body. “Feel so empty without you.” 

“Not going anywhere, love. You could cling onto me while I get the bath ready, how does that sound?” He moves your hair, so he could see your beautiful and tired face. You lift your head up to look at him. 

“No, what I meant was: I’m empty without you in me,” Harry’s mouth opens as if the realization just hit him; a soft ‘oh’ comes out. 

“Want me in you? Without the fucking, huh? Just wanna feel warm and nice?” He smiles, often loving when you go into subspace because a little cockwarming is in his favor. 

“Mhm. Please? Just for a little bit then we could take a bath.” 

“Okay, whatever you want. We could also do it in the bath too, but let’s stay here for a moment,” you nod in agreement. 

He reaches between you, stroking his dick to get it a little hard before lining himself up once again. His hips bucked and you pushed your hips down on him, both moaning in the relief of feeling full again. 

“Feel so good, even like this, baby,” you say against his skin. 

“Yeah? Keeping me warm, huh?” You nod and he kisses your face. “We should do this more often.” 

“I always keep your cock warm though,” Harry laughs at your vulgar language, but he’s not surprised. 

“I know that, but I didn’t mean that. I meant we should plan some nights where we don’t know each other and we meet up at the same place. Remember we always did that when we were dating? Got some of the best surprises out of each other.” 

“Yeah, I remember. Back when I was able to fit into my maid costume,” you sigh.“But sure. I really liked today. I was going for something else, but daddy just slipped out and I know how much you love being called that, so I just went with it,” you start scratching the back of his neck, and he feels like he could fall asleep anytime, but he’d rather stay up and talk to you. 

“Don’t deny that you don’t like calling me daddy either,” he sarcastically scoffs. 

“You’re right. I do,” you giggle, knowing that it’s your favorite thing to call him besides your innocent pet names for him. “I’m gonna surprise you for what kind of role playing we’re gonna do when we pretend not to know each other.” You kiss his chest and he hums. You both feel so relaxed that you feel Harry getting soft inside of you, but he still feels warm. 

“Okay, sounds good to me. As long as it’s with you then I have no reason to complain.” 

You smile at him, feeling so loved and grateful you’re married to him. As you two lay close to one another, chest to chest, and sexually and emotionally connected, you’re appreciative for the stranger that’s not really a stranger, holding you in his arms. 

feedback is very much appreciated! pls let me know what you think!

[sugar-petals]

Hello! Hi, hi. My friends and I are debating and I thought you might have input. How would you describe an ult bias? Do you choose them or do they choose you? And how do you realize who yours is??

Thank you! ❤️❤️

the 8 signs of having an ult.

more natural development than you choosing. example: jimin appears in people's lives without them even realizing what happens.

an ult exudes gigantic charisma to you. example: hwasa's presence and scene-stealing makes her an ult candidate for so many people.

they represent not just the group, but a genre, aesthetic, and idea to you. example: taemin doing his thing has granted him a vast ult status because he's his own category.

to you, they shine in almost all regards. example: baekhyun ult stans have a habit of calling him a genius idol, talented in all areas.

they occupy your feed and the content you put out even if you bounce between fandoms all day. example: taeyong is a frequent one i see, he reaches beyond topics and communities and is popular with multis. ults are cross-fandom favorites by default. if you strictly stan only one group, you can't have an ult, only a main bias.

you perceive them to exceed the role in their group. they're '360' to you. they inspire rather than just entertain. it's someone whose philosophy you highly agree with. example: namjoon comes to mind, he stands for higher principles bigger than bts' performing activity, although he includes many of them in the music.

in all fashions and concepts, they attract you, even if you may appreciate or dislike a particular styling. example: lisa is a common ult, she fascinates in any context. it's about the aura.

they're someone whose personality you focus on first rather than their promotion. example: yoongi is an idol you wanna know in depth and allround, hence so many yoongi ults.

TLDR: you value their way of thinking, multitalent, genre contribution, vibe, versatile looks, and essence — plus, yes, they choose you, and it will be blatant to others. you'll know when you ask fellow stans, they'll tell you who you talk the most about.

or the statistical way: run your blog through a tag analyzer. your ult is of course whose tag you use the most. chances are it’s your profile picture guy/gal 😂  example, i typed in my url, lo and behold after some general topics yoongi is the highest-mentioned.

... he did it again.

[caesaryoulater]

“ hey! hey, hey, it’s alright! it’s okay, my love, i’m here, i’ve got you… ” - Request: Marcus Moreno's fellow teammate and 2nd girlfriend(Has no powers but has good armed and unarmed combat skills) rescues a badly beaten up, tortured, bloody and bruised Marcus Moreno and Marcus Moreno is safe with his family again in the hospital.

Stick to the Plan

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ simply because my blog is 18+

Word Count: 637

Content: Mentions of injury. Slight language.

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

From: Prompt list

“Hey! Hey, hey, it’s alright! It’s okay, my love, I’m here, I’ve got you…” you kneel at Marcus’s side. The sight of him made you sick. He went in too quick, got knocked down by two assailants. You gently run your fingers over some bruising on his cheekbone. He had a gash near one eye. You knew the team was bringing in back up to get him to the hospital, you only wished it were possibly for them to get there quicker. Miracle Guy had you covered for now, though.

Normally the two of you weren’t so open at work about your relationship. You wanted to keep things quiet and professional on the field. The last thing you wanted was the team in your business, especially this early on. And the opposition didn’t need ammo. Too often the wrong foe would go for the heart. Neither of you were ready to put the other at risk.

“I’m fine, go. Get yourself safe.” He attempts to stand but finds it too difficult. You try your best to keep him down without causing further injury.

“You know damn well I can take care of myself. Miracle Guy has us covered. And if that fails, I’ve got it. I’m not leaving until medical is here.”

He sighs. There’s no arguing with you once you’ve made up your mind. He knows that. Your stubbornness was part of what attracted him to you. He loved your strong will and determination. He lays back, knowing fighting back or trying to move is a dumb idea. “Fine.”

—-

After what seemed like a lifetime, medical got him transported back to headquarters and into the medical bay. They ran tests before allowing you into the room. Luckily, he was more or less ok. Some scrapes fixed up with stitches, some bruised ribs, and a fractured wrist. Although you had a slight urge to smack him when you saw him sitting up, joking with the nursing staff. The group of nurses all excuse themselves when they saw you.

“Hey gorgeous,” he grins and takes a bite of jello.

“You scared the shit out of me, Moreno.” You cross into the room and stand next to the bed. Despite knowing he was ok, seeing him laughing and joking, seeing him in the hospital was the worst feeling. Knowing it could’ve been worse.

He gives you a sheepish grin. “I know. I made a stupid move out there. I rushed things instead of sticking to the plan.”

“My plan.”

He chuckles. “Your brilliant, well thought out plan. I’m an idiot for not listening to someone as brilliant and brave as you.” He smirks up at you.

You try and force away a smile. “Flattery isn’t getting you anywhere.”

His smirk grows even bigger as he notices you relax and inch closer to the bed. He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I think it is though.” He motions for you to lean in. You sigh and close the rest of the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips to his.

“I think your dad is going to be just fine.” Marcus’s mom and daughter appear into the doorway. Missy runs over and climbs into the bed with her dad, hugging him. He winces, but doesn’t let her go.

“I’m fine, I’ve got the best right hand gal in the business.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smirk. “You can just say partner.” Grandma Moreno pulls you into a side hug and you relax into her, letting your head fall on her shoulder. She was a big part in getting the two of you together at the beginning and you were thankful.

“Either way, he’s right dear. Thank you for taking care of my Marcus.” She kisses the top of your head.

[emilyoftheshadows]

Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see a cute guy/gal/person smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, bit this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

So, this is the first piece I have written and posted here! This is a fluffy drabble loosely based on the prompt above as well as some tik tok ideas i've seen. I hope you enjoy and don't judge too hard :)

~~~~~~

Aelin never knew that she could feel such a wide range of emotions in such a short amount of time. The hectic events she had endured earlier in her day had left her drained and in dire need of sleep.

She started out her mornings as usual - brewing her coffee with the help of an overly excited Fleetfoot. On the subway ride to work, coffee in hand, she explicitly remembered checking her emails for any important notices regarding her job. As an advertising agent, she dealt with multiple clients at one time. With her meticulously organized calendar and the help of her overworked assistant Marion, she was usually able to keep everything in check. Today was not one of those days.

As she entered her office, Marion greeted her with her tablet in hand- Aelin’s schedule color coded, labeled and sorted by hour.

 “Good morning Ms. Galathynius, ready to hear your schedule for today?” Aelin nodded, sipping her coffee as Marion listed her client meetings for the upcoming day. As they entered her office, Aelin paused.

“Marion, could you please repeat that first meeting  again?”

“The Havilliard Scotch pitch at 12?” And that was when Aelin knew she was fucked. This pitch was meant for a well known drinking company in New York, fast on the come up. Havilliard Sr. was known to be picky about his branding, scrutinizing most agencies that had helped him before. She had barely gotten this client, practically begging Nehemia for the job. As she worked the branding, she had become worried about the content she was producing.

She was so worried about this pitch, that she had taken her laptop home last night in hopes of triple checking her work for mistakes and to fine tune some details. And that's where her laptop was at that moment. At her apartment, across town, sitting on her desk, collecting dust. Her mind raced at how to solve her predicament. The subway ride to and from her apartment was too long of a trip to make before the meeting and, like an amateur, she hadn’t saved her files anywhere else but her laptop. She was completely fucked. 

Marion stood in the doorway, confused on what was going on in Aelin’s head. Aelin decided to finally release herself from her stupor. “Marion, could you please go find Aedion for me? And tell him it’s an emergency.”

With a determined look on her face, her assistant went as fast as her short legs could carry her to Aedion’s office on the adjacent part of the building floor she was on. Within minutes, Aedion was standing at her door, panting like he had just sprinted the fastest race of his life. The good thing about having her overbearing cousin work with her, is that she knew that in any problem he would help in an instant. And this was one hell of a fucking problem.

“What happened Aelin? Are you okay? Were you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“You idiot I am physically fine, but still screwed and I need your help.” Aedion released the first breath Aelin had seen him take since entering her office.

“You know, when Marion power walked into my office saying you had an EMERGENCY and she didn’t know what was wrong with you, I definitely thought you would be passed out on your floor with blood on your face. But, you know, thanks for the heart attack. Really woke me up this morning.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes at him. He was more dramatic than her, and that spoke volumes in itself. 

“Aedion, please it really is an emergency. I have the big pitch for the Havilliard Scotch today and I left my laptop with the presentation at my apartment.” Aedion’s eyes widened in surprise. He knew that Aelin had been obsessed about this pitch and that mistakes like this only happened to her once in a blue moon. Aelin saw understanding dawn on his face and took that as a sign to continue.

“Now, I know a while back I sent you the rough drafts of the branding from when I first got the pitch. Is there any chance that you have the email or presentation saved still? If I have the basis of the presentation, I have an hour to build on it and hopefully fix this.”

Aedion’s face fell at the request. “We can go look, but you know I’m not the best at organizing my files Ace. It could be anywhere on my computer or not at all.” With those reaffirming words, Aelin and Aedion walked at a brisk pace back to his office. Combing through Aedion’s computer was an agonizing process. There were files saved from years ago that should’ve been deleted, and backtracking through all the contents of his computer made Aelin want to stab her eyes out. But it was all worth it, because hidden in the depths of this man’s terribly organized computer was the presentation. With a quick click of a button, she emailed the document to herself. She gave a half ass hug to Aedion, then practically ran to her office to start reworking her pitch on the computer there.

--

Aelin believed it was pure adrenaline that enabled her to finish her pitch in time for the Havilliard meeting. With a strong foundation laid out before her from her first draft, she had constructed almost her exact pitch that was left at home. Aelin waited for the Havilliards in the boardroom, smoothing out her clothes as she paced at the front. Far too soon, Marion escorted Havilliard Sr., Dorian Havilliard, and their close friend and partner Chaol Westfall into the room for her presentation. The three men had sat down in silence with no introduction, except for a small encouraging smile from the younger Havilliard. Taking that as her sign to start, Aelin cleared her throat.

“Hello gentlemen, today I want to present to you the future of Havilliard Scotch…”

---

As the men had exited the room single file, Aelin finally allowed herself to relax. That had felt like the longest pitch of her life. Going into the meeting, she had known the men were notorious for being extremely serious and critical of their agents. What she had not expected was the whispered words between the men after she had finished her presentation. As she looked on, Dorian Havilliard had finally broken away from their circle to address her.

“Miss Galathynius, thank you for your time. We will get back to you shortly about our decision to run with this branding or not.” With a quick nod and gesture to his companions, the trio had stood up and left the room. She was utterly shocked. Aelin had poured her sweat and tears into this pitch, quite literally, and they had just thanked her and left. No critiques, no opinions, no nothing. 

Quite honestly, Aelin was exhausted. She had spent most of her brain power reworking that pitch in that 45 minutes before that meeting and she had nothing left to give today. Yet, she still had a full schedule left to woo clients and work on her other projects. By the time Aelin trudged back to the subway, she was ready for a nice dinner at home followed by a restorative night of sleep with Fleetfoot at her side. 

Now, as she entered the subway, she immediately noticed the mystery man sitting down a few feet away from her. The man was moderately built, with muscles that were outlined by the fabric of his long sleeve t-shirt. His style was simple with a pair of nice jeans and Doc Marten boots, but that just allowed one's focus to settle on the beautiful creation that was his face. Mystery man had a strong jawline, lined with a bit of stubble and scruff. His eyes were a beautiful shade of green like none that she had seen before, his head topped with luscious silver hair. As the subway started, Mystery Man continued to sketch drawings into his book. Now, Aelin was never one to back  down from an opportunity to flirt with one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. She was a single woman in a big city, why the hell not. But her day had taken a toll on her, and she just didn’t know if this was the right time or place. So, she opted to put in her headphones as she waited for her stop, listening to relaxing music to calm her anxieties regarding the failed Havilliard pitch. 

 Seeing that her stop was next, Aelin rose from her seat to wait in line for the doors to open. As she waited, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Low and behold, there was the Mystery Man standing next to her with a piece of paper in hand. As she pulled her headphone out, the man silently handed her the paper. Looking down, she saw a pencil sketch of herself on the subway. The drawing was beautifully done with bold lines and harsh shading, contrasted by highlights created from the fluorescent lights of the subway. Her eyes welled up, immediately grateful for this thoughtful gift after such a horrible day. The Mystery Man saw her emotions, startled to see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy. I just… I like to draw and when I saw you… I mean, it’s just you’re so stunning..” The man’s face flushed red as he tried to justify his beautiful art. Aelin laughed out loud for the first time today at his misunderstanding of her swell of emotions. 

“Oh no, these are just tears of..uhmm.. happiness? I guess…” She started to flush at her own awkwardness, trying to explain her emotions this time.

“I just had a really rough day and feel like shit. But this drawing is beautiful and I really am grateful that such a talented artist like yourself chose me as your muse today.” Aelin watched as the Mystery Man reacted to such a lavish compliment, somehow developing an even deeper blush with a shy smile . Gaining confidence from his reaction, she decided to make her move before she exited for her upcoming stop. 

“Hey, Mystery Man, why don’t I give you my number? Seeing that I am your muse and all, I would really like to learn more about your art.” It was a subpar pickup line at best, but hey, she had a long day and for the circumstance she thought it good enough. The man gave a deep timbered laugh at her pickup line, clearly enjoying their conversation now. 

“I think I might be one step ahead of you actually. Flip the drawing over.” As she flipped the paper, she saw a messy scrawl with the name Rowan, and what she could only assume was his number. The sight of these two things brought her complete giddiness. Giddiness that made you want to jump in the air and pump your fist because you're so excited. She looked up at Rowan, smirking as she tucked the piece of paper into her purse.

As the subway doors opened and they were pushed apart by bypassers, she turned around one last time to look at the man who had brightened her day beyond belief. She winked at Rowan as she walked away, not missing the wide smile he gave in return as the subway doors closed and continued on to the next stop.