#THE MOST pale thing ever at the same time? i feel like people would never clock them as being romantic tigether ever. Its just

[goldenguillotines]

I must also say. The flavor difference in Moirailships is amazing sometimes. This post is about fish to fish communication

[klaus-littlestwolf]

No Matter What- Aemond T.

Aemond is in love, and he refused to allow his nephew to have her. He will take her from Jacaerys by any means necessary.

Am I just going to keep writing my fics as if Season 2 didn’t happen at all?

Yeah…it’s very likely, yes🤣🤣

Also, for the person that DM’d me and asked if I have a name in mind for Y/n when I write for Aemond, yes. In my mind when I write, her name is Rhaella, I just think it’s the most beautiful Targaryen name I’ve heard. I also love Visenya but I feel it’s overused. The only other name I would potentially use would be Saera.

She was surprised by her Uncles attitude from the moment she first saw him again.

Y/n and Aemond had been best friends in their childhood. She had climbed onto the back of the Grey Ghost when she was only 5 years old (most people believing that the Dragon knew they were the same when it came to how shy and avoidant they were).

They hadn’t been close up until that point, only being 5 and 6 years old and both being outcasts among their family (though she almost preferred it that way). Y/n had offered to take Aemond with her flying one night after Aegon, Jace and Luke had ridiculed him again and he actually agreed, resting his hand on the nose of a dragon for the first time as Y/n calmed him. Climbing into the saddle and holding onto his niece had been awkward and a bit embarrassing until they were in the air and Aemond knew he was truly born for this.

From then on Y/n offered to take him with her quite often, always after their brothers had bullied one of them again. She comforted him, even once letting Aemond take the reigns and fly Ghost himself (which the pale dragon didn’t like at all sadly and only lasted a few moments), but the fact that she had done it meant the world to him. He promised to take Y/n with him on his dragon as soon as he mounts one, wanting desperately to impress her.

Aemond was Obsessed

Their friendship lasted like that for almost 4 years before that horrible night when Aemond was attacked by her brothers. He had been so excited to tell her about Vhagar, he had actually been running inside to wake her and take her flying like he promised when he was cut off.

She had held his hand from the moment she ran in, trying to comfort him as much as she was able until her mother pulled her away. Aemond raged when she was dragged away from his side but he was held down by Criston Cole from trying to take his Princess back, Daemon carrying the 9 year olds squirming body out and away from him.

As they all left the next morning he tried to find her, Rhaenyra glaring at him as he searched the courtyard and he knew her mother hadn’t let her come and say “goodbye”…that night was the last time he saw her for almost 9 years…

It was the worst thing Rhaenyra could have done. She had made her younger brother desperate, and desperate men do desperate things…he would have her back. No Matter What.

Aemond dreamed about nothing but his niece every single day after, determined to make her his despite the fact that her mother would never betroth her to him. He knew the only way he could make her his wife was to take her and make it the only option, Alicent would most definitely force their wedding very quickly rather than watch the only “legitimate” grandchild of her husband (other than his brother and sisters 3 children) carry a child unwed (as she was Daemons daughter “secretly” but could at least be passed off as not being Harwin Strongs).

When he finally saw her again he felt his breath stolen from his body, she was stunning, the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on. A women now, standing just shorter than Jace as she watched him in his training session with Cole. Aemond fought hard, determined to show her what he had become and he quickly ended the fight with his sword at his trainers throat.

‘Well done my Prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.’

Aemond rolled his eyes at that. ‘I don’t give a shit about tourneys…nephews. Have you come to train?’ He questioned, looking over the both of them before making eye contact with Y/n who blushed heavily as he did. ‘Niece. It is a pleasure to lay eyes on you again…and you are truly a sight to behold.’ He stepped closer, shoving himself between the Strongs to take her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and looking into her lovely purple eyes. Aemond was comforted to see no fear or disgust on her face, but her beautiful blush was something he wanted to see forever. ‘You are just as gorgeous as I imagined you to be.’ He whispered, leaning close to her ear.

‘Thank you Uncle. You have become ever more handsome, a man grown. The ladies must be fighting tooth and nail for your affections.’ She teased, however before he could respond and insist that he wanted no affections but her own, her bastard brother snatched her hand from his.

‘I would thank you to keep your hands to yourself Uncle, my betrothed should not be touched by anyone but me.’ Jace spoke with a smirk on his face. Anyone with eyes knew Aemond had always been in love with Y/n and his nephew was smug to be able to take any kind of happiness away from him as he always had done.

Aemond composed himself immediately, smiling down at him kindly but Jace could see the rage in his eye, the silent threat that he was giving being clear. ‘I suppose congratulations are in order then.’ And though he said it, he gave none before smiling at Y/n who was then pulled in the opposite direction and out of the courtyard.

‘I do not want to see him touching you again, do you understand me?’ Jace demanded as they got into the castle, Y/n pulling her hand from his angrily.

‘You are not yet my husband brother, don’t you dare order me as if you are. I still have plenty of time to tell mother I would rather be betrothed to anyone but you and that Baela can be Queen by your side one day. I am not an object for you to take possession of!’ And with that she stormed off, Aemond around the corner having heard the whole thing. He knew exactly how to get his girl to be his…though he doubted it would be hard with how his nephew treated his Queen.

‘You should be kinder to your future Queen-‘

‘She is mine, whether she likes it or not. I am to be the King one day, she cannot refuse me.’ Jace joked with Luke who snorted, Aemond turning and leaving the hall. Y/n was his future wife, no matter what he had to do to make sure of it.

After the horrific meeting to attempt to give Driftmark to anyone but Luke he was sadly reestablished as heir thanks to the King and Aemond found himself in a bit of trouble with everyone at dinner after calling his nephews Strong.

All of them were sent to their chambers and he hightailed it back to her chamber, slipping in before his niece and her guard arrived, hiding behind the wardrobe in case anyone came in with her.

‘I am tired Jacaerys, all I want is a good, long sleep. Just leave me be for the night, I will not answer you if you come back! I need no protection from you!’ She snapped as the door opened.

‘If Aemond-‘

‘Aemond is not here! And now you are not here either, go to your own chambers and give me a night of peaceful sleep after all of this Bullshit!’ She slammed the door, locking it instantly and Aemond could feel his cock hardening in his breeches. Something about hearing her reject Jace was a turn on for him in a major way and he wanted to mark her neck up with as many bite marks as possible, he needed to show his nephew who his Princess truly belonged to.

‘That was impressive.’ Aemond spoke, seeing her nearly jump a foot in the air as she gasped. ‘Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you…I just wanted to see you. I knew your betrothed would not allow you even a moment in my presence.’ Her eyes were slit instantly as he said this.

‘Jace thinks he can control me but I will not let myself be that kind of wife! I am not an object to be owned, to be ordered around in front of his friends to make him look like a strong man or King! I do not want to be his wife or his Queen!’ She snapped and Aemond did his best to look at her softly, wanting her to see his empathy and her eyes widened as she realized what she had done. ‘I am so sorry Kepus! You did not deserve that, I am not angry at you. I am so-‘ (Uncle)

‘Breathe Byka Dārilaros…it is alright. I understand how angry he makes you feel, I hate him as well, remember?’ He teased and she chuckled before stepping forward and not hesitating to wrap her arms around his body, resting her head on his chest. (Little Princess)

‘I missed you so much Kepus…I wanted to write to you but my mother wouldn’t let me. She said it was a betrayal to Luke and that since you didn’t write to me, you clearly wouldn’t care but I-‘

‘I did write to you. I sent letters for months before I received one from my sister telling me to stop, that you did not want to hear from me but I knew that was a lie . There was not a single day that passed that I did not think about how much I missed you…’ Aemond looked down at her, his arms around her to hold her to him, hesitating only a moment as he looked into her soft eyes and pressed his lips to hers.

She surprised him a bit when she didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, her hands moving to hold his shirt tightly as he took her face into his and held her close. Y/n was his everything and he had been craving for this exact moment since he was 6 years old, wanting to kiss her since the moment they first flew together. She will be his and he will keep her close forever, determined to never let anyone touch what is his ever again-especially Jace.

‘You are so perfect…’ he mumbled against her lips before pulling away and resting his forehead on hers. ‘Do you want this? I don’t want to force you into anything you do not desire, my love…however I want you to be mine. I have craved you for so many years and I will cherish the ground you walk on if you will be mine.’ Aemond knew giving her the choice would make the difference in pushing her to do what she wanted even against her mothers wishes.

‘I love you Kepus, I always have…our mothers will never-‘

‘There is a way…My mother will insist upon it if I have already filled you with my son…’ he tried to speak softly, let her know that it is her choice to make. ‘I love you Byka Dārilaros, and I want you to be my wife more than anything. The thought of being forced to marry another turns my stomach however I will never force myself upon you. If you would marry Jace then I will love you from afar…but if you want me then I will make love to you right here and now. I will pleasure you all night long until you are so full of me there is no doubt you carry my son and then I will sleep inside of your pretty little cunt for our family to find come morning…let me love you in every way that he can’t.’ There were tears in her eyes as he finished speaking to her and he moved to wipe them away before she spoke again. Y/n reached up, taking the eyepatch covering his sapphire into her fingers before he caught her wrist awkwardly. No lady had ever seen his face and not been uncomfortable or disgusted by it which is why he always covered it whenever he wasn’t alone in his room or in the library.

‘I would look upon your face and see all that you are…while you fill me with our first child.’ He looked at her, startled for a moment before he released her hand and she pulled the eyepatch off.

‘First of many…I will fill you with as many children as you desire.’ Aemond promised before kissing her again, his hands moving to the back of her dress where he unlaced the corset and pulled it down her arms, lifting her out of the dress and moving to drop her onto the bed. She pulled off her small clothes as she watched him remove his shirt and breeches, leaving him bare and revealing his hard cock that was already leaking. ‘You are so beautiful, my love…tell me that you’re mine.’ Aemond insisted, his hand giving his member a firm stroke.

‘I’m yours Kepus, all yours forever.’ She promised as he crawled over her, kissing his jaw and down his neck sweetly. She was just so precious he couldn’t help the needy feeling in his chest demanding he take her.

‘All mine! Should any man look at you even a moment too long ever again, I will remove their eyes and feed them to the ravens.’ Aemond pushed her legs apart more so that he could settle between them, feeling her wetness on his cock for the first time and nearly cumming on the spot. He gave her a moment to relax herself upon pushing into her however she shocked him once again, moaning like a whore only a moment later prompting him to shove his hand over her mouth. ‘If someone hears you then your guard will come in here and we will be dragged apart. I would hear your lovely moans forevermore once I’ve filled your cunt but for now you must hush.’ She whined but bit her bottom lip hard to keep from making any loud noises. Aemond loved the knowledge that he could make her moan like that, in love with fucking her body already as he thrust up into her roughly. Her nails dug into his shoulders, scratching down his back painfully which sent a rush of pleasure through his belly upon him sucking hard on her throat, biting into her perfect skin quite hard and covering her mouth with a hand once again as she nearly screamed, her pussy tightening around his cock in a way he had never felt before which practically dragged his own end from his body. ‘Gods be good, I’ve never felt anything like that before…you felt good?’ It was an insecure moment of him needing that reassurance and while with anyone else he would have been instantly embarrassed, she nodded, quite dazed it seemed and he knew she didn’t judge him for a moment. ‘Your cunt is a form of blissful ecstasy I did not know was attainable. You are mine now Y/n…say it…’

‘Yours Aemond…all yours…you will be my husband as soon as next week and you will be able to have me anytime and any place you desire. I never thought it could feel like that…I love you Kepus.’ Her words touched him and in that moment Aemond knew that he would never need anyone else in this world again as long as he had Y/n and their future silver haired babies.

‘I love you too Mandianna, I always have. From this night on they will never be able to steal you from me again! You are all mine Y/n…and I will take pleasure in making sure everyone knows it.’ He made his point as he thrust his hard cock up into her once more prompting her sharp intake of breath, nails digging into his forearms before pulling him down to kiss her. (Niece)

Aemond spent the night filling his future wife with as much of his seed as his body held, biting her perfect pale skin everywhere he could reach and ensuring no one would ever be able to argue who she belonged to again. He finally had what he had always wanted, the only things left to do was put a tiara upon her head and meet their children.

The knock on the door was the thing that awakened the both of them the next morning quite early and far too soon considering how many hours Aemond had spent filling his bride…(6 hours). It was frantic and Aemond groaned, pulling Y/n closer into his chest as he was happy to ignore it before her mother shouted.

‘Y/n! You aren’t at breakfast and neither is Aemond! If he is in there with you…!’ She warned and Aemond found the half threat amusing.

‘Aemond! Are you in there?!’ His mother was the one shouting through the door now and he smiled, kissing his soon-to-be-wife’s lips before responding.

‘Good morning mother!’ He responded.

‘You Little Fuck! If you’ve hurt my daughter I swear to all of the Gods!’ Rhaenyra raged. ‘Daemon! Get This Door Open!’ She demanded.

‘He did not hurt me mother!’ Y/n stated just before the first loud hit to the door causing his girl to scream, turning to hide her face into his neck as he sat up. It took 2 more strikes before the door burst open and their mothers entered along with Daemon and Otto. Y/n was covered up to her waist while her upper body was pressed to his leaving only her back exposed.

‘Aemond! What have you done?’ Alicent asked sadly, clearly trying to think of a solution, knowing there was only one in this situation.

‘You all know that we have loved each other since we were children. Did you think that would go away just because you didn’t give her my letters sister?’ Rhaenyra’s eyes widened before she glared at him in a rage.

‘What is he talking about?’ His mother asked.

‘I didn’t want him speaking to her! She will not marry her Uncle like-‘

‘Like you did?’ Alicent deadpanned making the Princess look to her. ‘She will actually marry her Uncle, from this moment they are betrothed-‘

‘My daughter is already betrothed to-‘

‘Not anymore!’ Otto cut her off. ‘From this moment on the Princess Y/n Velaryon is to be wed to Prince Aemond Targaryen. The wedding will take place at the end of the week, we cannot have anyone knowing of these indiscretions when she begins to show as I am assuming she is likely pregnant?’ He asked Aemond who grinned.

‘Oh, most definitely. I’ve left no doubt that she carry’s my son. I was actually planning on filling her with another one before you so rudely broke the door down-‘

‘Do not push your luck Aemond!’ His Grandsire warned.

‘I should remove your head you insolent little shit.’ Daemon growled, Aemond seeing the rage in his eyes.

‘Then your grandchild would be without a father, Uncle. What purpose would that serve except ensuring your daughter hates you?’ Y/n moved her hand to pinch his side making him jump. ‘I’m sorry Byka Dārilaros.’

Aemond could see the surprise at his apology in his mother and Grandsire’s eyes. ‘Maybe this will be a good thing after all.’ Otto considered before turning to leave the room.

‘No more fooling around. Get dressed and get to breakfast. Now.’ With that his mother guided Rhaenyra and Daemon reluctantly out of the room.

‘Can your husband help you get dressed my love?’ Aemond questioned and she kissed his shoulder before biting his neck as he had done to her about 30 times the previous night, the evidence of which was very clear to see all over her chest and breasts. Aemond was proud though, because while she could hide those the 5 marks on her neck were not able to be hidden before breakfast where he was eager for Jace to see them.

They were both dressed 10 minutes later, their hair staying down until after they broke their fast for the day, Aemond leading her down the halls and enjoying the smile on his girls face as they entered the room with their family. He sat her down beside him and watched her fill her plate and eat, clearly hungry from their previous nights activities which filled him with pride at being able to satisfy his wife.

‘What is that?’ A voice demanded and everyone looked up to see Jace pointing at Y/n’s neck.

‘Jace, we will discuss this after we eat. You-‘

‘No!’ He cut his mother off, jumping up from his seat and moving to Y/n’s side in an instant, yanking her hair to the side and looking at her neck. Aemond heard her whimper in pain as he pulled her hair, holding her chin to expose her throat to him and he was instantly up from his chair with his hands on Jace.

‘That’s Enough!’ Rhaenyra shouted before Aemond punched his nephew who nearly flew backwards at the force his fist caused before he moved to grab him again, a voice calling his name through the jumble of people yelling which had his attention immediately.

‘Come eat with me Kepus, please?’ Y/n asked softly and he couldn’t deny her that as she held her hand out. Aemond moved to take it, lifting her onto his lap and sitting to eat, feeding her and feeling proud at providing her what she needs, thoroughly enjoying her feeding him as well.

It seemed that everyone was shocked at Aemond disengaging from the fight but his attention was on his soon to be wife as it should be. ‘We should go for a morning flight after breakfast…let me take you for a ride as I promised, late as the kept promise may be.’ Y/n looked up at him and he could see her surprise which he found adorable.

‘You…you want me to-to ride Vhagar?’ She questioned and he chuckled.

‘Not alone of course but yes, I had wanted to take you up with me the night I mounted her but that clearly didn’t happen. It will be fun, I promise.’ The smile on his girls face was worth everything to him. She was precious and he would keep his wife happy no matter what. If that meant that his nephews and older sister needed to be un-happy, then that was just icing on the cake for him.

He finally took her flying with him later that day, though it made her own dragon quite grumpy and forced her to take Ghost for his own flight before they could go back home. Aemond had finally kept his promise, and had ensured he got exactly what he wanted in the end.

Now all that is left for Aemond to do is figure out how to make Y/n his Queen and fulfill his dream of his wife riding him on the Iron Throne.

That one may take a bit more work, but he would ensure it, No Matter What.

Aemond T. Masterlist

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being honest about what I would change about my boyfriend?

🥊🥊

I’m a cis guy (22m) and I have a boyfriend that’s transgender (20m). We’ve been together for 2 years.

My boyfriend is a very cute guy and he gets hit on a lot in queer spaces tbh. even by lesbians, and they fully see him as a guy. He’s just very sweet and approachable I guess. A lot of people tell him he’s super attractive and I agree, but there are just certain things about his body that don’t appeal to me.

We were at a friend’s birthday party. People got drunk, I was tipsy. We played this game that was like cards with questions about relationships/love/intimacy on them and the whole group would discuss.

One of the questions was something along the lines of "If you could change anything about your partner, what would it be?" Or whatever.

Now, I went first and said I’d probably make him less hairy and get rid of the dark spots in his crotch area and his acne scars. He has some discoloration around his private areas from a rash he got when he was like 13 and some faint scarring from pimples I guess. It’s not an issue, but definitely not my preference. Plus he can’t really shave clean down there because he has thick hair and it always makes him get those razor burn bumps or whatever. Fine by me, he’s hot as hell either way.

Plus, he has a lot of discoloration around his shoulders, back, chest and face from severe acne outbreaks from his puberty and then later again when he started taking testosterone. It’s calmed down a lot, but the scarring is still very prominent. It’s not an issue, just not very pretty to look at.

Please don’t get me wrong. He’s an incredibly attractive person, I just wish his skin was a little prettier. It’s a bit of a turnoff, that’s all. It never stopped me from being absolutely enamored with him.

But when I explained this, a little less explicitly than this of course, the group went dead silent. Everyone was staring at me, some of the girls even clasped their hands over their mouths etc.

When I looked at my boyfriend he was completely pale and was just blankly staring at me before getting up and saying he needs to pee. I just said okay and then gave the card to the person next to me. She very quietly said she’d take away her girlfriend’s anxiety because it hurts her to see the person she loves like that. That’s when it sort of dawned on me that I messed up and that I was way out of line for saying these things in front of our friends.

He apparently left soon after that, which I only found out through a friend. I was a little confused but figured he was just a little embarrassed. We don’t live together, so it isn’t unusual for one of us to leave before the other. But then I found out that his best friend left with him because he was sobbing and couldn’t stop.

I tried calling him and texting him for multiple hours and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by just popping up at his home, so I gave up and eventually went home. That was two days ago and I still haven’t heard from him. He’s usually a very clingy and noisy person and always sends me small updates throughout the day, but I haven’t heard anything from him the entire time.

I’m so scared. I love this guy so much, he’s the sweetest and the single most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I know he has a lot of severe insecurity issues around his body, especially regarding his scarring. But it’s all gotten a lot better in recent months and he even began to love how hairy he is because it makes him feel euphoric.

Now I can’t help but feel like I took that away from him because of some stupid game. But at the same time, I don’t think it was fair for him to just up and leave without talking to me. We could’ve talked it out and I just wish he would communicate with me.

I already know I was a bit out of line for this, but I just tend to be uncomfortably honest. He knows this and loves me for it, so I’m confused why he’s THIS upset about this one. He’s never gone this long without talking to me.

Am I the asshole? I was just playing the game. I don’t think it’s fair to call me cruel for this just because other people are scared to be honest and say shit like they’d take away their partner’s mental illness. It’s so fake and that shit just pisses me off. Everyone has something they would change about their partner’s appearance.

[cy-cyborg]

How The Owl House did amputee representation right before Eda ever lost her arm - Disability in Media

[ID: A screenshot of Eda from The Owl House, an old woman with pale skin, very large, grey hair and pointed ears in a red dress. Beside the screenshot on a dark pink background is text that reads "Disability in media, How the Owl House got amputee representation right before eda ever lost her arm." /End ID]

Dana Terrace's The Owl House has some of the best disability rep I’ve seen on a Disney channel show in a long time, with Eda, the main character’s mentor, being one of many stand-out examples.

Plenty of people have discussed how Eda’s curse and the loss of her magic can work as an allegory for disability and how refreshing it is to see a story (especially one aimed at a younger audience) who’s focus is not on her “overcoming” it, but learning to accept it as a part of her and go from there. Eda’s story tackles a lot of subjects that are often mishandled in other examples of disability representation, from the subject of parents who refuse to accept, to glass siblings and much, much more, The Owl House handles all these topics beautifully.

But one thing that dawned on me during my most recent re-watch of The Owl House is how well Eda (and later Lilith) worked as amputee representation, long before Eda actually lost her arm.

One of the side effects of Eda and Lilith’s curse is that sometimes their body parts, mainly their limbs, can fall off. It doesn’t hurt them, and Eda is seen removing them intentionally at multiple times in the series, but they can always be reattached.

[ID: an image of Eda holding her sister Lilith's hand. Lilith is a pale woman with long, black hair, wearing grey clothes. She is looking at her other arm suprised, as her hand is missing. Luz, a Latina girl with short brown hair and a purple hoodie is looking on, smiling. /End ID]

While most likely unintentional, the way the show depicts this with Eda in particular is exactly what I wish more people would do with their prosthetic-using amputee characters.

Eda detaches her limbs, especially her legs, when they’re inconvenient or when she’s relaxing.

[ID: an image of Eda laying on the couch in a bathrobe, her hair in a towel. She has taken her legs off, throwing them to the other side of the seat. /End ID]

The fact that this is mostly played for laughs is actually a good thing in my opinion (though obviously, the show’s overall tone is part of that), as it shows the audience who are mostly children and teens, that in a world of weird and downright scary (from the perspective of the characters) things, this isn't one of them. It’s just a thing she and Lilith can do, and it can even be funny.

[ID: An image of Luz and Eda dressed as pirates. Eda is sitting on the ground, her legs detached and off screen somewhere. /End ID]

It does startle Luz and Lilith on a few occasions, but that’s more because they didn’t know the curse could do that, but once they’re introduced to it, it’s never really brought up as a big deal again.

I’d love to see more amputee characters who do this with their prosthetics. So often media is almost afraid to have amputees take their prosthetics off on camera or on the page. For some folks, our prosthetics are like a part of our bodies, but that doesn’t mean we never take them off. Show your leg amputee flop on the couch and throw their legs across the room. Have them go without on occasion, not because they have to, but because they just don’t feel like putting them on.

Likewise, the owl house creators never shy away from showing Eda when her limbs aren’t all attached. A lot of media, and kid’s shows in particular, will avoid having an amputee character’s stump visible if they ever do take their prosthetics off - treating that part of the character’s body the same way they treat gore or nudity. I’ve talked before how this actually does have a real impact on how kids in particular react to amputees - I’ve legitimately had kids I worked with cry when I took my prosthetics off, then immediately calm down when they see there’s nothing "scary" under my socks. As much as I love How To Train Your Dragon, it’s very guilty of this. Hiccup looses his leg at the end of the first movie, and wakes up with his prosthetic already attached. The Netflix series has a few instances where he has his prosthetic off, but the camera almost always avoids showing it until he can cover it up again, or is super zoomed-out so you wouldn’t be able to “see anything”. To their credit, they do get better with this in the last movie (though it's still always covered), but for the majority of the series, they are very reluctant to have any shots where hiccup’s leg is in view without the prosthetic (unless they’re very far away).

[ID: a screenshot of Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon 3, a white man with short brown hair, and one leg missing, wearing armour made of black dragon scales and no prosthetic. He is holding onto toothless's head, a black dragon. /End ID]

Ironically, Eda does (permanently) loose an arm at the end of season 2, but I don’t really have much to say about her as amputee representation on that front, since she’s absent for a lot of Season 3, and when we do see her again, everything is so hectic, the story doesn’t really have any time to focus on her missing limb (which is reasonable). I will say, I do appreciate that they kept the amputation when she's in her owl-beast form in the finale, but there's honestly not much more to say about it. We do see her again in the epilogue after she’s had some time to settle into the amputation, wearing a hook prosthetic, but it’s, once again, too quick to really say anything from a representation standpoint. There's a few little nit-picky things I could bring up, like the fact they seemed to change the type on amputation she had (when she looses it, we see the split was very close to the elbow, but in the epilogue she has most of her forearm again) but those read to me more like animation mistakes or an odd prosthetic/clothing designs rather than a representation issue - and as someone who's worked in animation, given the stress the team was under for the finale, I'm not really worried about it. Like I said, it's more nit-picky than anything.

[ID: A screenshot of Eda, her hair tied back and wearing a red robe and a hook for her right hand. /End ID]

Despite all that though, I still think Eda is still good amputee representation, but mostly because of how they depict her curse’s side effects rather than her actual amputation. She’s honestly one of the only characters that I think you could refer to as “amputee coded” (outside of maybe Teen Titan’s Cyborg), and I genuinely wish more creators would treat their actual amputee characters the same way the Owl House treats Eda in that regard.

[scremogirl]

✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Yandere! Nerd x Academic Rival! Reader

Mentions of depressive behavior/thoughts of suicide. AFAB! Reader: is called “Ms”.

Annoying.

A know-it-all smarty pants that was simultaneously the worst pain in your ass. Not that he meant to be of course; you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, some people are just naturally smart; but not him. Following you around like a lost puppy no matter where you went. He was toying with you on purpose and you knew it! You just couldn’t understand why he decided to make your life worse.

Now, the relationship you have is more one sided. You’d make subtle jabs and throw cheap shots his way but all he ever did was laugh it off. He never fought back. From what you’ve gathered, he just prefers to stare. And when I say stare I mean straight into your soul type stare. Every time he gets annoyed or is thinking really hard about something that’s what he does. Stares. It’s really creepy and unsettling, all the times you caught him or tried to, he would just look away blushing, trying his best to hide behind his shaggy hair. Eyes burn holes through the back of your head five out of the seven days of the week. However, even the two days you aren’t in school, the feeling of eyes on you never seems cease. You feel chills crawl up your spine and always look over your shoulder wherever you go only to find nobody there.

You’ve always strived to be the best. Your home life was like the equivalent of being tossed in solitary co finemente and being left to rot. It seemed as if your parents only cared about your academic life. Therefore, they were always super strict about your grades. You knew it came from a place deep within their hearts, they just wanted you to do good in life; but it still hurt. You wanted to make them proud. Wanted to feel loved by the people who were supposed to be closest to you. So you pushed yourself to limits nobody could ever reach. From winning spelling bees to holding the spot of Vice President on your school's student council team. Schools were already offering you all expense scholarships in freshman year!

You were an all rounder. One of the most involved students in your grade. You were in various sports and academic clubs, always helped in school fundraisers, and even have 500(+) SS hrs.

“ Apologies, Ms. (L/N), but there’s nothing we can do about this. You’ll have to get a tutor in order to pass,”

Technical engineering.

Your worst subject. You excelled in physics and math; some would say the best. You got the formulas down to a T and knew everything there was to know. It was more so the building aspect of things. There were just so many damn parts! Who even needs an electriconic digital caliper anyways?!

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), but that’s just the way things turned out. You need this credit to graduate, but you needn’t worry. Miylo is the best at this. He’s perfect for the job,”

Miylo Reneritzer. A 6 foot, dead eyed, pale skinned dork. He’s never stood out to you. He wasn’t popular or a scholar. He didn’t play sports and wasn’t in any clubs. He didn’t participate in the annual dances and didn’t attended school games. He was just there. A regular student with a knack for technicalogical architecture. You were in 11th grade at the time. You needed to get all your credits out the way so you didn’t have to worry about them senior year. Not that it was a problem for you seeing as all of them were already completed. Well… except this one. You’ve been putting off for so long. You had to face it sooner or later. Too soon for your liking.

You would meet with Miylo twice a week; you were place in the same tech class so the first meeting didn’t really count. He was a great teacher! A little quiet and very monotone, but very thourough none the less. By the end of junior year you ended up with a A-. You parents hammered you for not making it a plus but you’ve come to terms with it. He saved you. And you were grateful. You ended up losing contact the transitioning year and just never interacted again; almost completely forgetting about him.

He didn’t forget about you though. How could he?! You were the most beautiful girl in the entire school! Nobody could compare to you. What you didn’t know about him was he was s everely bullied and even contiplated ending everything. That was until you came along. Someone finally wanted to talk to him. Even if it was just for help getting a good grade. Taking to a pretty popular girl and getting money and an increases on his report card? Sign him up. That one day changed the entirety of his life, he owes his life to you.

All he remembers is being called down to the counselors office; parents ready waiting and giving him the most bone crushing hug. Everything seemed like a blur from then on. But what he can remember is how he got there in the first place.

“A friend of yours, (Y/n) (L/n) had some concerns about your health. She said she’s been paying attention to you for awhile and noticed your self destructive behaviors,” says the counselor.

What? Before he started tutoring you he thought you were a teachers pet and hog all the chances for others to answer questions but if saves him the embarrassment of public speaking he doesn’t mind. You’ve noticed him? In more than just at tutor-tutee way? Nobody ever notices him. Not even his own parents. It’s evident with the amount of shock on their faces and all their “why didn’t you tell me’s” and confessions of love. He’s mad at you at first. He spends at least 3mths in that looney bin because of you. He hated it at first. All the questions and discard for privacy. But… slowly he changes. He becomes healthy and happy again. His mind drifts back to you. The way you would answer questions when you noticed the teachers eyes land on him, the way you would always do the presenting part in group presentations, the way gum and smiley faced erasers would apprear on his desk on a particularly hard day. You cared. You did this for everyone you saw struggling. Not that he took that into account, in his mind, he was the only one. You thought he was special. And he wouldn’t let anyone take his spot in your heart.

When he got out, he decided he was a changed person. Senior year would be his redemption arc and you would finally be together. You already were in his mind; you were just to scared. He saw straight through your act. That’s why you would do all that stuff for him instead of just coming out and saying it. He needed to pull himself together and become a better person first. He wanted you to be proud of him. He wanted you to see him for all he’s worth. He joined all the clubs you were in and surpassed all expectations. He became popular, inserting himself into all your social circles and even became a student council member beside you. Or should I say infront of you? The President. And the validictorinan.

Ugh! Since when did he become so…so great!? You don’t have any clue where this change in him came from and you want him to go back to the way he was. You were the best! You didn’t work this hard for your parents approval for nothing. They would always compare you time him. Miylos the student council president they’d say. He would never get an A-, he would never miss a volleyball game because he was overwhelmed with school work, he would never feel how school was the only true escape from an emotionally disabled household. He would never understand. Oh, but he did.

He’s been in your house plenty of times to know what’s going on. Not that you’ve know of course. That explains all the missing panties. Hmm, maybe that explains where all of your pens have gone too. And your half eaten food, and the Polaroids you’ve take of yourself, and your rose to-… Regardless! You’ve had enough of this! You needed him to know just exactly how you felt. What other way than asking him to meet you under the tree on Fri before school ends?

“I already know,” Hm?

“Good. I couldn’t hold this in any longer. You do know just exactly what I feel,”

“Oh my love but I do,” ….my love? What is he taking about.

“What am I talking about? Oh sweetheart, don’t play coy with me. It’s okay; I’ve always know the real reason behind your aggression towards me. Your just shy is all. I just want to let you know that I love you too. More than you could ever know,” he steps forward and arms outstretched and expecting a hug. He push on his chest and stare up at him in confusion. Love him? You don’t love him, you despise him! He chuckles.

“Like I said, it’s okay to be open about how you feel. That’s why you brought me here isn’t it?” What! This wasn’t some sort of confession. Well…technically… but not one of love! He was here to understand how much you loathed him. He had to not like you either, that’s why he did everything you did right…Right!? He hated you. He had to!

“Hate you? (Y/n), I could never hate you. After all you saved me,” at this point you thiught he was joking with you. Furthering your suspicions of his true feelings. You tried marching pasted him only for him to grab you arm. You tried to shuck him off but his grip was strong. All those clubs really built up his physice. He wasn’t the same scrawny little geek you remembered. He was larger, seeming as if he grew a few more inches. He filled out his uniform more, and his eyes became brighter and more emotional. If your affliction for him didn’t exist you’d think he was cute. The only thing that seemed hadn’t changed about him was his unwavering love and loyalty to you. He huffs out an exasperated sign, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I get that your shy my love, but that’s there’s no need to be so rude. We’ll work on a more conventional way to express your emotions,”

“Do I have to spell it out for you! I don’t like you, you creep! You’ve been following me around every since the beginning of this year. You’ve taken everything from me. Clubs, student records, student president! Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get here! You act so laid back and relaxed about everything and it drives me nuts! I hate you!” You push past him again, angry tears forming from all the supressed emotional turmoil. He doesn’t grab you right away which makes you think he’s finally got the picture. Didn’t anyone ever tell you no to turn your back on the enemy? You’re suddenly grabbed and thrusted into the base of the tree. He tsks at your behavior before sighing again. Hands have now moved to your shoulders and apply slight pressure keeping you in place. If that didn’t do it, the way he's looking at you would’ve have; fierce and warning, and yet, filled with so much adoration.

“We need to fix this little attitude of yours, don’t we?” It’s rhetorical. You know that but you feel the urge to snap back at him. Before you could get a word out, you can her the distance ringing of the school bell signaling the end of the day. His phone rings on the last ring. He gives you a hard glare telepathically telling you not to move. He stands straighter and picks it up. With what you heard, the student council meeting is starting soon and the others are wondering where you two are. Saved by the bell. He sighs before grabbing his bag that he placed down as long as your hand before sighing.

“Unfortunately, we can’t continue this conversation my love. Lucky for us, it’s Friday. We’ll have the rest of the weekend to work it out of you,” he throws a coy smirk your way and grabs at his belt, readjusting it a bit. God, what will you do?

Hey loves! Hope you enjoyed. I’m thinking about making apart to of this. I wasn’t really confident in it and decided that I should give more explanation to Miylos behavior. This could just be his introduction and I’ll expand on it. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

-Love, Sos❤️

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Playing With Fire

24/12: A Fancy Party & Praising - modern!Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: raunchy texts, pussy slapping, public sex, p in v sex, praise, dirty talk A/N: missed these two??? It's our Perfect Score duo!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

She hates these events. Hates the pomp and ego. Her situation has changed but the figure skating business certainly hadn't.

Since returning to Singles, Rhaenys had encouraged her to get involved in it all again, as much as she knew she loathed it. Connections were everything after all. And she supposed it was an excuse to have a glass of bubbly.

Rhaenys was in her usual flawless getup. A floor length pale blue, with the corset littered with sparkles. Except this time, instead of dragging her around by her forearm, she'd bought her doting husband, Corlys, and was dragging him around instead.

She gravitated instantly to Baela and Rhaena, dressed in matching blues. Baela wore a skin tight dress without sleeves and it was such a dark blue that in some light, it could've been black. Whereas Rhaena matched her blue to Rhaenys, bar all the sparkle, since she insisted it was 'tacky'.

She'd rolled her eyes at that.

Some things never change.

"Hello, you", she turned to find a familiar face, voice and mop of curly brown hair.

"Jace!"

He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a friendly hug somehow without really touching her, "nice to see you out on the ice again."

"Oh, you know me, can't keep away", she smirked, throwing a lock of waved hair over her shoulder.

Yet another familiar face poked from the shadows, "miss me?"

Both Jace and her smiled brightly, "Cregan, nice to see you!"

"You too," he smiled, "fucking hate these things."

She gave a dry laugh, "yeah, me too. Just an excuse to have some fancy food really."

Cregan laughed, "at least you're honest."

As the glasses of bubbly began to work their magic, her head swirling pleasantly, she watched Jace and Cregan laugh with each other, and then Baela and Rhaena alike.

There was a full ache in her chest, tapping her fingernails against the glass flute, wishing that a certain person was also here to accompany her.

She had respected Aemond's decision to not attend events such as this.

He would support her at matches, cheering from the sidelines, even watching when she practised, sometimes joining her, but he couldn't for the life of him force himself to go to an event where he might catch a glimpse of Alys Rivers.

He'd get no judgement from her for that.

Besides, if Alys Rivers ever dared to show her face in the same building as her, she'd face her wrath.

She finds herself, absentmindedly sipping the tart prosecco, her third she notes, listening to Corlys Velaryon harp on about how amazing Rhaenys was in her day. How sensually she moved, how she used to wink at him from the sidelines and-

“Okayyy…I think I've heard just about enough.” She says awkwardly. Without that he might have gone on forever.

“Apologies. I can't say enough things to describe her.”

She nods, “I'm lucky to have her as a manager, certainly. Excuse me.”

She blinked a few times as she slid away, through the brilliantly dressed people, downing the rest of her bubbly as she pushed the glass doors towards the back of the hall to get some fresh air.

She fanned herself with her hand, feeling all hot from the humid air vaped off everyone’s bodies inside. Her phone illuminates her face as she pulls it from her clutch, a smile rising to her lips to find Aemond’s name as the most recent contact to have sent her a message.

She laughed quietly, her thumbs moving quickly to reply, heart all aflutter.

There’s a long quiet. Those three lines to say he’s replying come on, then off, then on again.

Um.

What. 

Okay. What the fuck.

Her eyes were like saucers, the cold blue light bouncing off them as she stared at his response.

Gods, what the fuck was Aemond on??

She found herself looking around briefly.

Aemond hadn't known what she'd worn. How could he have?

She was stunned for a moment, her thumbs unmoving as her eyebrows furrowed at her screen in confusion.

It was a good job she was outside, the squeal she let out bounced off the walls when she felt two hands sliding around her waist.

If she were a different person, she'd have used her clutch as a weapon, it was certainly heavy enough.

But in the end she's glad she didn't as she whips around to be greeted with the familiar smirk, platinum tied-back hair and mismatched eyes of Aemond.

Her phone nearly falls from her hands in shock, "Aemond, what the fuck?!"

He chuckles breathily, "Nice to see you too, princess."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, gaining her breath back slightly, her chest feeling hot but at the same time, a smile rising to her lips at his presence. Stupidly, seeing him is just what she needed.

"Thought I'd come and see my girl, only to find that yet again that cunt Northerner is trying to get into her pants."

She swallowed at the way he'd said it, all low and halfway between flirty and angry. And ashamed as she is to say it, a warmth drifts between her thighs, her insides clenching around nothing, remembering perhaps the borderline dirty words he'd typed over text.

"I was...just being nice-"

"Oh were you now?" he drones, leaning forward impossibly close, a platinum strand falling from behind his ear to frame his sharp features. His hand on the wall on one side of her head feels close, half caging her in and the anticipation of his proximity is suffocating.

His gaze drops to her outfit, akin to the one she wore when her and Aemond had to attend their first shmoozing event back when they worked in Pairs.

"You do look gorgeous," he starts, humming appreciatively, "I remember you wearing something like this back when we hated each other."

"We didn't hate each other." She rolls her eyes, not able to help the smile that quirks at her lips.

But Aemond cocks his head, narrowing his gaze, "Uh huh, sure. Well you hated me then," he grins, "in any case, princess, I'm not sure I can wait for us to ditch this place."

Her lips part, unsure what he means until he has her pressed to the wall, his tall, broad form easily framing her in to trap her, rather enjoying the lost, dumb look on her face as his fingers trickle down to the hem of her dress.

"Aemond!" She whisper shouts, looking around as her face burns at the thought of being so brazen out in public like this. If anyone came through those horrendous glass doors... the thought has her core throb with danger and her skin alight with nerves.

"What? I promised, didn't I?" He muses, his lips descending to place open-mouthed kisses on her neck, below her ear, "I said I'd fuck you stupid."

Yes, but I didn't think you meant here, is all she's able to think.

But her mouth fails to move as he rucks up her dress to her middle, surprised in himself to find there was nothing beneath.

"Trying to impress someone?"

"Can't wear underwear with this dre-ah!"

She has to cover her mouth when Aemond slaps her harshly right onto her hot core, throbbing with want for him by now she's sure. The action, so lewd and exciting, has her clenching around nothing.

"Yeah yeah, don't want your pathetic fucking excuses, princess," he utters darkly, his tongue running over the bit of skin he'd just bitten lightly, and she mewls, turning into a choked moan the second he eases two fingers into her.

She's not as wet as she would be with some preparation, but right now that's half the thrill. She's still excited enough from his words over text alone that there's no pain but only the stretch of his fingers as he crooks forwards, brushing that spot inside her that has her toes curling in her heels.

She grabs his wrist, "fuck-Aemond-"

"There it is. Such a dirty fucking girl for me, aren't you."

She nods feebly, not even really listening, too focussed on tightening her grip on him as he pistons two fingers into her, the tightness in her belly beginning to crest as Aemond brushes her sweet spot with every push inside.

"Fuck-I can feel you tightening around me you little slut."

He punctuates it with yet another wetter slap as he pulls his digits from her, making her let out a muffled squeal.

She barely has time to crack her eyes open before Aemond is pressed up against her, his hands grasping her thighs to pull her up the wall against him. He only really needs one hand to do it, his chest anchoring hers to him as his other fumbles with his belt.

"Tell you what, if you can be quiet for me, I'll let you cum." He breathes against her lips, his jaw all tense like this is all he's been able to think about since he saw her.

"Aemond, wai-"

He doesn't.

Both of them have to stifle a sort of relieved moan as he slides into her, the stretch of him never failing to steal the air from her lungs. Her arms tighten around his back, all ideas of being caught or the fact that there are several dozen people inside the building next to them right at this moment, is completely distant.

The first genuine thrust he gives makes her want to cry out, but she thinks better of it and presses her lips together, each movement of himself inside her making that task ten times harder. But the prospect of not being allowed fulfilment is the thing that keeps her from it.

"That's my girl - that's my good fucking girl - doing so well-"

She's ashamed to say how the praise shoots straight to her core, tightening around him so impossibly much that she swears Aemond fucking whines when he tries to push inside her again.

"Aw, did you like that, baby? - do you like being my good girl?"

She's not sure if she nods or if it's the force of Aemond's brutal thrusts that is making her head move, but he takes it as confirmation nonetheless.

"Fuck - I could stay buried in your pretty little pussy all fucking day -" he muses, his voice all strained the longer he continues his rapid pace, his skin that pokes out from beneath his shirt meets hers with a soft slap, her face heating up when she feels that her slick is beginning to come away on him each time.

And she knows she's done for as soon as his hand drifts down between her legs, his thumb playing with her pearl with the aid of her arousal.

And he expects me not to make a sound or cum? she thinks to herself.

She keeps herself together through sheer stubbornness if anything, the two overwhelming pleasures at once threatening to have her topple over the edge at any moment.

"My perfect girl - come on, I can't wait any longer, want you to fucking soak my cock, come on-"

He almost sounds impatient, and if the needy tone of his voice doesn't propel her into rapture, the way he presses his thumb against her clit certainly does. And she falls over the edge with a muffled whine into his neck, near sobbing with pleasure as Aemond doesn't let up, fucking into her with abandon to chase his own when he feels the way she clamps around his length.

She lets out another moan to chase the last as she feels Aemond's shuddered breath and the warmth fills her as he hits his own high. Staying like that for a brief, warm moment, before he sets her down on wobbly feet.

He grins at the exhausted look on her face as he pulls her dress down, not missing the way he's already started to leak out of her. But he can't talk, he's all flushed in the face as well, tugging his trousers back over his hips.

She adjusts her hair, all frizzy from the moisture in the cold winter air.

"Come on then." He grins wolfishly.

He walks the opposite direction she expects. And her brows furrow in confusion as Aemond heads to the glass doors, to go inside the venue.

"Where are you going?"

"Can't go without at least saying hello to everyone, now can I? Maybe I'll speak to Cregan Stark."

Her mouth hangs open in shock, "Aemond-"

Your cum is running down my thighs. She wants to say.

And he seems to understand, based on the way he smirks at the warmth that graces her cheeks in embarrassment, "Come on, princess, don't be rude now."

She bites her lip in annoyance, hooking her arm into his.

If she didn't love him, she'd kill him.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

The Double-edged Blade of Chance

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade. 

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight.

“Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

"Why would I be a ghost?”

  

@deadonmayn Day 5: Soulmates | Pretend | Jason and Danny were childhood friends | "I never thought I'd see you again."

TW: Major Character Death, Child Neglect, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Depression

AO3 link

   Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, though. Maybe it was small, but it was a chance. For those born with black ink scrawled across their wrists, it was a hope. A perfect match who could understand you on every level straight down to your atoms was waiting, and maybe you would meet them today! Or tomorrow. Or a year from now. Or… never.

   Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, black letters burn and scar. Sometimes, your soulmate dies before you can ever meet them. Words on your wrist were a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade. 

   On average, most people didn't meet their soulmates until their twenties or thirties. Jason Todd was not most people.

   Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight. Lungs burning and legs shaking with adrenaline, he sprints with his singular pilfered apple. He's not being chased, but it's better to create distance between him and the scene of his crime. If the past six months as a street kid has taught him anything, it's that caution is a virtue. Caution keeps you alive. 

   He falls back into muscle memory, allowing his feet to carry him through familiar shortcuts. Jason rounds another corner into a dirty back alley only to ram into something face first. There's a startled yelp and before he knows it Jason is horizontal. The only thing separating him from the ground is a scrawny torso. Jason's about to throw himself away from the poor schmuck when there's a burst of pain in his back. He rolls and lands on the asphalt with a pained groan.

  The other kid scrambles away from him with panicked, pale blue eyes. He looks the same age as Jason, skinny like a twig with a loose-fitting NASA shirt and unruly black hair. If Jason had seen him walking down the street, he would never have guessed he knew how to throw a punch. 

   The kid scans him up and down, suddenly embarrassed, “Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

   Jason is so busy nursing his kidney that he doesn't register the significance of the words. Instead, he snaps back with incredulity, “Why would I be a ghost?”

   The kid stares at Jason with wide eyes. His mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish out of water. Whatever. Let him have his crisis, it's not Jason's problem. He dusts off his apple and stands to leave.

   "Wait!" 

   Jason yanks his sleeve back out of the other kid's grip, "Don't touch me!"

   "Sorry…" he shrinks back and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that Jason almost feels bad, "Please don't go!"

   Jason ignores him. He has things to do and places to be. Winter will be coming soon, and his abandoned apartment has very little in terms of blankets or jackets. A cold street kid is a dead street kid. 

   “Just-” the kid cuts in front of him. Jason stops short. Twig kid rolls up his sleeve, holding his wrist so close to Jason’s face that he couldn’t look away if he tried, “Look!”

   Jason freezes. His eyes scan over the words once, twice, and then a third time. 

   Why would I be a ghost?

   Jason can feel the scowl evaporate from his face, replaced by a softness he doesn’t know what to do with. Gently, ever so gently, he brushes over the words with his thumb. He doesn’t need to look at his own wrist to verify. Now that his head isn’t so far up his ass, the words the other boy uttered finally click and he knows that this is his soulmate.

   “My name is Danny!”

    Jason lifts his eyes to meet his soulmate’s. Danny’s grin is brighter than the sun itself. Something unfurls when he sees that smile. His lips tick upwards.

   “I’m Jason.”

   And so begins a beautiful friendship.

   Danny’s parents were… interesting to say the least. Jason had never met them himself, but he sure heard about them a lot. The two were self-proclaimed ghost hunters, and Mrs. Fenton was a trained martial artist. They had taught Danny from a young age to defend himself and instilled a fear of ghosts while they were at it, hence Jason being floored with a kidney punch.

   Other than that, the Fentons were hands-off. They didn’t pay much attention to Danny or his older sister, Jazz, so the two were mostly left to their own devices. Jazz couldn’t entertain Danny all the time, so he had taken to slipping out of the apartment to explore. 

   Jason may have been young, but even so, he had an inkling that the Fenton parents could have been doing a better job… well… parenting. Then again, it wasn't as if Jason had room to talk. Willis’ form of parenting had been more fists than words, painting out the rules of the house with black and blue bruises. Catherine had been good to Jason, even living under the smog of Willis Todd’s anger. She had taught Jason to cook (recipes he still knew by heart) and would read to him late into the night, fingers skimming old pages (Jason still carried the old, battered copy of The Little Prince with him, one of the few belongings he grabbed before fleeing CPS). Even under the drug-induced haze, his mom had tried her best. When she became too ill to do much of anything, Jason paid it forward as best he could. 

   There were some benefits to all of this. With the Fentons paying so little attention to anything outside of work, Danny could sneak supplies to Jason no problem! Suddenly issues like food or clean water were no longer as pressing, and Jason had a lot more free time. Naturally, he spent it with Danny. Jason taught Danny how to slip in and out of Gotham’s shadows unnoticed, and Danny taught Jason all of the things he learned in school. Danny would tell Jason stories written in the stars such as Orpheus’ lyre and Orion the hunter. In return, Jason would read his battered copy of The Little Prince to him under the trees in the park.

   Like all good things, it had to come to an end. 

   It happens a little over a year after their fateful meeting. Danny arrives at their spot dragging his feet, eyes watery. Jason abandons his book on the grass beside him in favor of rushing to meet his soulmate, who all but collapses sniffling into his arms. They sit in the shade of their tree, Jason running his hands through Danny’s hair as he cries into his dirty shirt.

   “What happened?” Jason asks once the other boy has calmed some.

   “We’re moving.”

   “What?”

   “Mom and Dad want to move someplace in Illinois. Something about ectoplasm readings. They said we’re moving out by the end of the month!”

    It feels like the ground drops from underneath Jason, nothing but a yawning chasm beneath his feet. Moving? To Illinois?

   The tears return to Danny’s eyes with a vengeance, “I don’t want to move! I don’t want to leave you!”

   Jason sets his jaw, tugging Danny back into a hug. He swallows the lump in his throat with false bravado. “It’ll be okay, Danny. You wanna know why?”

  Danny makes an inquisitive noise, wiping his face on his shirt as Jason pulls away. 

   Jason reaches for Danny’s hand, turning his palm up to the sky. He stretches his arm out next to Danny's, their soul marks brushing next to each other. 

  “We’re soulmates, Danny. The universe decided that we are two halves of a whole. Fate decreed that we are meant to be together,” Jason poured the conviction into his words, “We’re soulmates, and soulmates are magic. Even if you leave for weeks, months, or years, I know we will find each other again. We’ll be together someday.”

   Danny gawked at him, wide eyes a pantomime of when they first met. He stared at Jason, and then- 

   “You read too many books, Jason.”

   Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly, shoving Danny into the grass. Danny giggled as Jason fell beside him with a huff. They stared up at the branches of the trees. The leaves swayed in the breeze. Jason follows them in captivating circles, his soulmate a soothing presence beside him.

   “You really mean it though?” Danny asks.

   “Mean what?”

   “That we’ll be together again?”

   “Of course,” Jason easily confirms.

   It’s the most sure Jason has been of anything in his life. 

   With Danny gone, there is no steady supply of food or blankets. Jason quickly finds himself reacquainted with hunger and desperation. After the third consecutive night of dumpster diving with no reward, he decides something has to change. Armed with a tire iron, Jason makes money the only way he can. 

   Six months after Danny leaves, Jason steals the tires from the batmobile. Batman found this more amusing than aggravating, and the next thing Jason knows, he’s stepping into the role of Robin. Jason! As Robin! Who would have thought?

   The new gig comes with some super awesome advanced tech. With all his work for Bruce, Jason figures it's only fair that he gets free reign with the batcomputer, or as Jason likes to call it, his best chance at finding Danny. 

   The batcomputer is one of the most advanced pieces of technology in the world. It's hooked up to satellites, has access to almost every database, and can run ID checks in seconds. Theoretically, there should be nothing stopping Jason from finding Danny. And yet…

    It's like he’s disappeared.

   All evidence of the Fenton family only dates to before their move. It doesn’t make any sense! There should be paper trails or social media posts or something! Anything! Jason searches for weeks but it’s as if Danny stopped existing as soon as he moved.

   Jason doesn’t give up. There has to be something he’s missing, one little thread poking out of the seams. A single tug is all it takes. He just has to find it. He keeps looking.

   He keeps looking for years. 

   He hangs on to hope.

   Jason is fourteen when his hope shatters.

   The night starts off normal. Jason dons the Robin suit and joins Bruce on patrol. They run through Gotham, stopping an arms deal and tying up a few muggers. Jason stops to take a breath, looking out over his city. 

   Jason loves this. He yearns for the whip of the wind in his face as he swings between gargoyles and fire escapes. He likes to help people, to defend others from the scumbags that think they rule the streets. Jason loves being Robin. Danny being here with him is the only thing that could make it better. That’s why Jason stays up high near the stars. It makes him feel closer to Danny, wherever he is.

   Burning pain makes Jason stumble in his steps. He clutches his wrist with gasping breath, wondering what he’s been hit with and when. Quickly, he removes his glove, throwing it to the floor.

   His stomach fills with icy cool dread.

   “No…” Jason mutters, eyes wide as saucers as the black ink on his wrist begins to fade, “No no no no no-”

   He digs his fingers hard into the words as if that will stop the color from leaching away.

   “No! Don’t do this! Please, Danny, don’t-” his voice cracks with a sob as the black becomes a pale grey, “NO!  You're stronger than this, you jerk! Don’t give up! Fight!”

   Bruce lands on the roof with him. He says something, but Jason isn’t paying attention. 

   “Don’t… don’t leave me, Danny. Don’t leave me alone.”

   Jason would normally never cry in front of Bruce, but he doesn’t care about Bruce right now.

   “You can’t leave yet! I’m supposed to find you! Do you hear me, you asshole?! You're not allowed to leave!” 

    The words are nothing but pale scars. It’s over. It’s done. The burning fades to a numb nothingness. Jason throws his head into his forearm and screams.

   Nothing will ever be the same.

   Bruce takes Jason home. He refuses to speak, not even to Alfred when the butler greets him with the offering of a hug. Jason walks right past his open arms to the bathroom and takes off his suit. Jason doesn’t feel like Robin right now. Jason doesn’t feel like anything.

   He showers just to be done with it, unfeeling of the ice-cold spray. Like a preprogrammed machine he runs through his routine.  Water. Shampoo. Soap. Rinse. Dry. Jason heads straight to his room when he’s done, not even bothering to brush his teeth. Burying himself under his bed covers, he cries until he passes out from exhaustion.

   It doesn’t get any easier. 

   Jason pushes the misery down and gets through the next day one step at a time. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. He goes to school, forcing himself to pay attention rather than sink into tempting numbness. Danny would have been so excited that Jason was in school. Danny would have wanted him to learn. 

   He comes home to Wayne Manor feeling, ironically, like a ghost. Alfred’s food tastes like chalk. Dick’s endeavors at movie nights and days out are about as tempting as swimming in the polluted harbor. He still joins Bruce as Robin, but he leaves the batcave feeling angry, hitting harder than he’s ever hit before. As if that will change anything. As if that will bring Danny back. 

   Sometimes, Jason draws over the scarred words on his wrist with a black marker. He pretends that Danny is still out there somewhere in bumfuck Illinois, waiting for him. It helps.

__________________

   Danny Fenton was unlucky. The very first sign was his workaholic parents with their conditional attention and lack of safety precautions, leading to his eventual early demise (Also known as sign one hundred and twenty-six, not that Danny was counting). Then there was the whole Oh Shit I’m a Ghost revelation quickly followed by the Oh Shit My Parents Want to End Me realization. Danny could only assume that he pissed off some ancient deity in a past life. 

   So yes, Danny was extremely unlucky, but he did have one thing going for him: Jason. 

   How many people got to meet their soulmate so early in life? Perhaps all of his luck had been invested in Jason. Jason with his vibrant blue eyes and dirty hair. Jason with the soft voice he used for Danny alone. Jason with his stubborn hold on childlike wonder despite being faced with the worst Gotham had to offer. 

   Danny may be unlucky, but Jason made him feel like the luckiest guy on Earth.

   He thought about Jason frequently. Idly tracing the words spread across his wrist, Danny would let his mind drift. Sometimes, he relived old memories. Other times he dreamed of their future together. 

    He imagined moving out of his parent's house and into one of his own. Jason would move in with him, warm and safe for once in his life. He’d be free to focus on learning like he so obviously wanted. Danny would go to work and Jason would go to school, but they would always come back together at the end of the day. Jason would pull out a book and Danny would curl against his side. Jason would get that adorable scowl on his face when something happened he didn’t like, and Danny would kiss it off of him with so much sweetness that Jason would forget what had annoyed him in the first place. 

   The honeyed kisses were a new addition to the fantasy, but not an unwelcome one. 

   Danny also thought about the present. He wondered what Jason was doing now. Was he still holed up in that awful abandoned apartment? Did he have warm enough clothes for the upcoming winter? Did he find enough food to last him the week? Did Jason feel Danny die? He must have been so scared…

   Moving away from Jason was the worst thing to ever happen to Danny, including the portal accident. Four states away, there wasn’t much he could do to help his soulmate, and he had no way to contact him, no way to check on him. His parents barely left the lab let alone the house, so a family trip to Gotham was out of the question. He had thought about flying there himself after the whole dying and becoming a halfa thing, but between the ghosts coming through the portal and his parents, he couldn’t leave Amity Park unprotected. 

   Danny thought he had a solution to the issue when he met Clockwork. While they may have started off on the wrong foot, these days the two were on better terms. Danny would even go so far as to call him a friend. Perhaps Clockwork would be willing to help a guy out and pause time for a bit. Only for a few hours! Just enough time for Danny to return to Gotham, find Jason, and establish some form of contact. Surely that wasn’t too tall of an order!

   Evidently, it was. Even after bargaining, pestering, and begging for what felt like hours (it could have been days or it could have been minutes, time was weird in Clockwork’s lair), Clockwork still refused. 

   Danny tried Nocturn next. It was more out of desperation than anything. His relationship with the ancient was still rocky, and he wasn’t expecting much to come from it. To his surprise, Nocturn agreed to help him but only once. Just one dream. Just one chance. 

   Danny is so excited he has trouble falling asleep. Eventually, he gives up and knocks back some melatonin. He’s willing to see the ceiling children if it means he also gets to see Jason. Danny closes his eyes.

   When he opens them, he is standing in a library. It’s fancy, fancier than Gotham’s library. The shelves are decorative polished wood and filled with books in better condition than any Danny has seen in one before. One wall is bare of any books or shelves. A stone fireplace with glass doors resides against it, exuding a comforting heat that makes Danny’s eyes droop even while asleep. The couches and chairs near the pit are so plush and pristine that Danny is certain this is a private library. No way would any public seating be this clean.

   It's all very nice, but not nearly as nice as the sight of the teenager residing on the furniture. The round baby fat that had shaped his face had begun to make way for a chiseled jaw. He's put on weight, no longer as gaunt as Danny remembers with more muscle. The skinny, starving kid Danny had known is no more.

   He's older now, almost unrecognizable, but that furrow in his brow as he reads and the slightly crooked nose gives him away. This is Jason. Danny's Jason. 

   "Jay!"

   Jason startles, dropping his book. He scrambles to his feet, tense as he stares uncomprehendingly at Danny. It hurts to not be recognized, but Danny understands. He looks different too.

   "...Danny?" 

   Danny can't find the words to respond so he settles for a smile, opening his arms in invitation. 

   Jason catapults into them. They clutch onto one another. The embrace is familiar but different, arms lankier than they used to be. Jason shakes like he’s crying. Danny thinks he might be too.

   Jason finally pulls away, hands running over Danny’s shoulders and arms,  "This… this isn't real. I'm dreaming."

   Danny laughs, "Well that depends on your definition of real. It may be a dream, but I'm still here."

   Jason’s hands raise to cup Danny’s face, "You died.”

   "Yeah,” Danny can’t help but lean into Jason’s palms, fingers rising to brush over his soulmate’s.

   "I don't care if it isn't real, I-" Jason swallowed. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Danny’s, "Can we just… pretend it is?"

   "Of course, Jay."

   Jason plants a kiss on his forehead and drags him over to the couch. They collapse onto the cushions, Jason’s chest breaking Danny’s fall and strong arms wrapping around him.

   "I missed you," Danny says into his shirt.

   "Not as much as I missed you."

   "You look better. You look like you've been taking care of yourself."

   "Sometimes."

   "Only sometimes?"

   Jason laughs.

   For the next hour or so, Jason tells him about his life as Batman’s sidekick, Robin. Life in Wayne Manor has been beneficial for him. His smile is fuller and more carefree as he talks about his latest patrol than it ever was when he was living in the apartment. He seems happy in a way that Danny rarely saw.

   "I'm so proud of you, Jay."

   Jason doesn't say anything in reply, but he doesn't have to. His wet eyes are response enough. He's quiet for so long that Danny's convinced he's broken him. 

   Then Jason leans in, slowly, oh so slowly. Danny's heart flutters. He closes his eyes, tilting his head forward. He prepares himself to feel the press of lips against his own and then-

    His alarm goes off. 

    Danny's eyes fly open, surveying his room in frustration. He never got Jason's number. Fuck.

   There’s nothing to be done except to continue on with life. Between school and ghost fights Danny still finds time to pester Clockwork. It’s the same song and dance each time but Danny is nothing if not persistent. Occasionally, his attempts are rewarded with glimpses into his soulmate's life. Just little everyday things like Jason doing his homework or cooking with an older man in a suit. This of course led to Danny pushing for more, something like an actual conversation or contact information, all of which Clockwork refused to provide. It didn’t stop Danny from asking. 

   If Clockwork truly wanted Danny to stop then he shouldn’t have rewarded his behavior in the first place.

   It's not long after Nocturn’s favor that Danny finally wears the old cog down.

   “Come on, Clockwork! Please?” Danny whines, tugging on the ancient’s cloak, “I just want to talk to my soulmate!”

   Clockwork ignored him, peering through another screen.

    “It’s not like we haven’t already met! How could there possibly be any harm in us talking?”

   Clockwork stopped, considering. This had never happened before! Danny waited with bated breath.

   “I’ll let you see him-”

   Danny cheered, happily doing loop-de-loops in the air. 

   “I wasn’t finished,”

   Danny stopped cheering.

   “I’ll let you see him, but you can’t interfere.”

   “Interfere? Interfere with what?”

   Clockwork frowned, “Some things are destined to be. If I take you to him, you can’t stop what is about to happen. For better or worse. Are you sure this is what you want?”

   Danny stilled, considering. This didn’t sound like he was going to talk to Jason. It seemed like this would be a mere passive observance. It wasn't much different from watching Jason through Clockworks’s portals. Whatever. Danny would take what he could get.

   “I’m sure.” Anything to see Jason again.

   “I foresaw as such.”

   Danny barely has time (heh time) to register the sad look Clockwork shoots his way before he’s portaled out of the ghost’s lair. One blink he is staring at the gears and cogs in the walls, then next he is standing in a warehouse. Alone.

   “Clockwork?”

   There’s no response, so Danny investigates. It's hot. Hot enough that Danny feels like he is sweating despite his intangibility. The warehouse is filled with boxes upon boxes. As he wanders further in, he begins to hear signs of life. He peers between the crates.

   A few musclemen are unloading more crates to the floor. Someone out of sight sounds like they’re laughing. No not laughing. Full-blown manic cackling. That’s a villain's laugh if Danny has ever heard one.

   He peaks around the corner to get a better view and nearly reels back. That’s a clown. A fully dressed clown. Green hair, white face paint, and all.

   Danny hates clowns.

   “What? What’s going on here?”

   Jason!

   Danny looks over his shoulder in the direction of the footsteps.

   “Just step over here and you’ll understand everything, Robin.”

   A blonde woman rounds the corner, Robin, Jason, following close behind. They walk past Danny and right into the clown. 

   “What?!” Jason leaps between the woman and the gun lime-flavored Mr.Mime is aiming squarely at her chest, “But you said…”

   “I lied.” 

   The woman is aiming a gun at Jason’s head. Danny growls, but it goes unheard.

  “I can’t afford to have you stirring up trouble. I’ve been dipping into the medical funds myself. If you blow the whistle on the Joker, the investigation will certainly uncover my embezzling. Sorry about that, kid. Looks like you picked the wrong person to trust. ”

   “Clockwork,” Danny asks the open air, “what is this?”

   Jason is surrounded but his eyes are solely focused on the woman. He looks devastated.

   “What should we do with him?” the woman asks the clown. 

   “Something I’ve wanted to do for years,” The clown lets out another one of those awful cackles. 

   Danny doesn’t think it would be possible to hate this guy more than he already does, but then he pistol whips his soulmate across the chest hard enough that he hits the ground.

   Jason gets up again. He’s always been tenacious, Danny thinks as he watches him punch the clown in the gut. He feels a glimmer of satisfaction. Jason will be okay. He’s giving the newest additions to Danny’s shitlist a solid beat down, and Danny gets a front-row seat.

   But then one of the gym bros knocks Jason to the floor again. He follows it up with a kick to the ribs. Jason lies there heaving, and suddenly Danny isn’t so certain anymore.

   The clown approaches him, dragging a crowbar against the concrete with a harsh scraping sound.

   “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me.”

   Danny tries to rush forward. He wants to tear that crowbar out of the clown’s hand and hit him so hard that he loses his teeth. He wants to grab Jason by the collar of that stupid outfit and fly him far away to safety. Danny wants to, but he can’t. His feet are rooted to the ground. His arms refuse to lift from his sides. His head won’t swivel on his neck. Danny can’t even switch off his invisibility. All he can do is blink as the crowbar careens into Jason’s ribs.

   “You can’t interfere, Daniel.”

   “Clockwork,” Danny grits out, quiet and desperate, “Clockwork, please.”

   He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder, “All is as it should be.”

   No no no no no no no no no no no no no-

   Danny isn’t sure how long he’s there, frozen uselessly in place as the maniac clown brings the crowbar down on Jason’s body over and over and over again. Eventually, he seems to get bored and decides to leave Jason to the mercy of a bomb. With a grand flourish to the ever-so-helpful timer, he leaves Jason bleeding on the floor. That woman is there too, but Danny doesn’t care about her. 

   Finally, Danny can move. He collapses next to Jason, cradling his beaten face in his hands and murmuring nonsensical platitudes. Jason’s breath wheezes shallowly, unseeing gaze fixed far away. 

   The clock ticks down. 

   Jason doesn’t make it to six minutes. 

   Danny chokes back a sob as the words on his wrist burn. With utmost care, he brushes Jason’s eyelids shut. Danny presses a kiss to his forehead. It still feels warm against his own ice-cold lips. Taking Jason’s limp hand in his own he leans back. He waits. He hopes. 

   He doesn’t have to wait long. 

   Danny almost thinks that Jason’s- no, the body’s eyes have opened once more. The color gives him pause though. Vivid green eyes like his own blink open in place of blue. A pale, wispy figure sits up, legs remaining within the corpse as if superimposed. The domino mask that had covered his face has been replaced by what looks like permanent grease paint. The Robin uniform is a mess even in death. The holes and tears have carried over, but thankfully it's no longer bloodstained. Jason’s wounds are all but gone except for a single glowing ectoplasmic scar running from his hairline down to his cheek.

   The newly formed ghost’s chest heaves in a mimicry of desperate breathing. Danny remembers it from when he first died. He had also panicked at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. It's hard to break such an ingrained instinct. 

   Danny feels his soul mark tingle, and though he doesn't look away from his soulmate he can see the green glow of the words in the corner of his eye. 

   “Jason?” Danny drops the corpse’s hand in favor of reaching for Jason’s.

   Jason’s eyes whip around wildly, landing on Danny. His chest slows to a stop, “Danny?”

   “Yeah, Jay,” Danny lets out a broken laugh, tears pooling in his eyes, “It’s me.”

   “Danny!” Jason lunges for him wrapping his arms around his waist, “I never thought I’d see you again,” he choked out, voice watery with emotion.

  Danny clutches him back, gloved fingers curling into the fabric of his cape, “I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m sorry, Jason,” Danny sniffs, tears soaking into the fabric of Jason’s shoulder, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

   “It’s okay! Well, not really,” They pull back to look at each other. Jason tucks a strand of hair behind Danny’s ear, fingers lingering to trace his jaw, “but I get to see your pretty face again so I can’t complain.”

   Danny flushes green but still manages to level Jason with a look, “That’s stupid and you know it! You have every right to complain you just-” 

   Danny cuts himself off with a small, distressed noise. Danny has died before. He knows what it’s like. And now Jason has too. They both know. There are no words.

   “Yeah…” Jason trails off, eyes lingering on his body, “Yeah. But you're here, right? You found me!"

   Danny smiles, cupping his soulmate's face in both hands, “Always,” he presses a chaste kiss to Jason’s lips. Even after it ends their foreheads remain touching. 

   “I missed you,” the grin Jason gives him could only be described as dopey.

   “Not as much as I missed you,” he teases back.

   Jason pulls him into another hug. They hold one another until their tears finally dry up. It reminds Danny of the good old days, running rampant through Gotham’s streets and finding solace from everything awful in each other. 

  Suddenly Jason starts to giggle. Danny doesn’t know why but his joy is contagious and soon Danny is snickering alongside him.

   “Why are you laughing?” Danny asks between unneeded breaths.

   Jason slips his tattered glove off, displaying his soulmark with a wiry grin, “I just realized I’m a ghost!” Jason giggles again, “And so are you!”

    “Why would I be a ghost?” Danny deadpans, which only causes Jason to laugh harder.

   Danny glances at the clock. One minute. “We should leave.”

   Jason nods, standing up before Danny can even move and offering his hand. Danny takes it, rising to his feet. Their fingers remain linked together as they phase through the wall of the warehouse. They turn to watch it blow with a sense of finality. The flames licking the sky feel like an end, but also a new beginning. 

   Danny turns away from the ruins and focuses. His fingers sharpen and tear through the fabric of reality, opening a swirling green portal into the Infinite Realms. 

   He holds the portal open with one hand, extending the other back out for Jason to take, “Together?”

   “Together,” Jason’s fingers clasp his own.

   This time, they don’t have to pretend. 

[edenmemes]

asoiaf: a dance with dragons starters

❝ i fear i make you uneasy. ❞ ❝ knowledge is a weapon. arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle. ❞ ❝ go on. show your steel. give me cause to do the same. ❞ ❝ fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. ❞ ❝ these woods are not as empty as you think. ❞ ❝ promise me that you will never turn against me. i could not bear that. promise me. ❞ ❝ the only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid. ❞ ❝ if i must die, i will die with an axe in my hand and a curse upon my lips. ❞ ❝ tales are told of you. i hear them everywhere. people fear you. ❞ ❝ go too far down that road,  and  mistrust  can  poison  you,  make you sour and fearful. ❞ ❝ you mistake me. that was a command, not an offer. ❞ ❝ sorcery is a sword without a hilt. there is no safe way to grasp it. ❞ ❝ prophecy is like a half-trained mule. it looks like it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. ❞ ❝ it is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. ❞ ❝ i rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. i tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell. ❞ ❝ they think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong. ❞ ❝ tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. remind me that there is still good in the world. ❞ ❝ one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞ ❝ this is what i was made for. the dance, the sweet steel song, a sword in my hand and a foe before me. ❞ ❝ my enemies have told you i am dead. those tales are false, as you can see. ❞ ❝ not all that a man does is done for gain. ❞ ❝ i know that you believe me weak, frightened, feeble. ❞ ❝ it takes a man to rule. kill the boy, and let the man be born. ❞ ❝ do you mean to spend your whole life running away? ❞ ❝ kingdoms are at hazard here. our lives, our names, our honour. this is no game we’re playing for your amusement. ❞ ❝ however gentle the words, there are always darker motives underneath. i do not trust you. ❞ ❝ a good honest face, but you should smile more. ❞ ❝ my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. ❞ ❝ you are so radiant today i fear to look on you. ❞ ❝ prove yourself more trouble than you are worth, and you can go your own way. ❞ ❝ you need not look so pale, i was only playing with you. ❞ ❝ this is not the day i die, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i wanted you from the first time i saw you. ❞ ❝ was i so blind, or  did  i  close  my  eyes  willingly, so i would not see the price of power? ❞ ❝ men should not go wandering in this place. ❞ ❝ hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had. ❞ ❝ you won’t try. you will obey. ❞ ❝ kneel and live. or go and die. it’s your choice to make. ❞ ❝ are you so blind, or is it that you do not wish to see? ❞ ❝ that is not a place you want to go to. ❞ ❝ i will not go back without doing what i came for, no matter how hopeless it may seem. ❞ ❝ the fairest woman in this world...i am drunk with the sight of you. ❞ ❝ secrets are worth more than silver and sapphires. ❞ ❝ we have come too far to turn back now. ❞ ❝ what have i done to make you hate me so? ❞ ❝ you meet so few men who value friendship over gold these days. ❞ ❝ it is true, i am a bolder man than most. ❞ ❝ i cannot go home. but i dare not stay here much longer. ❞ ❝ foes and false friends are all around me. ❞ ❝ the fewer folk who will know of this, the better. ❞ ❝ all you have i gave you. remember that. ❞ ❝ will you make me say it twice? go and do as i commanded you. ❞ ❝ love is madness, and lust is poison. ❞ ❝ i feel safe when i’m with you. ❞ ❝ have you no smile for me? am i as fearful as all that? ❞ ❝ why did i ever allow myself to be talked into this farce? ❞ ❝ don’t think i don’t see what you’re doing. ❞ ❝ i will tell you nothing. do me the same favor. ❞ ❝ if i look back i am lost. ❞ ❝ a crown should not sit easy on the head. ❞ ❝ we must show a little trust, you and i. ❞ ❝ trust only your companions, and do your best to avoid attracting notice. ❞ ❝ you’re not going to try to kill me again, i hope. ❞ ❝ if you will forgive me for saying so, you look...weary. are you sleeping? ❞ ❝ your clothes are stained with blood. take them off. ❞ ❝ every fool loves to hear that he’s important. ❞ ❝ my father used to tell me that a man must know his enemies. ❞ ❝ you are a harmless creature, to be sure. as innocent as a lamb. ❞ ❝ till then, let us drink and dream. ❞ ❝ you will be tempted to betray me. to run or fight or join our foes. i’ll not hear you deny it. ❞ ❝ soon enough you may have grave need of me. do not refuse my friendship. ❞ ❝ it is best that no man knows that you are here. ❞ ❝ i kill kings, haven’t you heard? ❞ ❝ should any ill befall you, this world would lose its savor. ❞ ❝ some will look at you and see only another doomed pretender. ❞ ❝ i think life is a jape. yours, mine, everyone’s. ❞ ❝ i will forgive those words...once. but never presume to threaten me again. ❞ ❝ your father would be so proud if he could see you. ❞ ❝ just once you might try to give me an answer that would please me. ❞ ❝ they love me well. none would betray me. ❞ ❝ i have sins enough to answer for; i’ll have no part of this one. ❞ ❝ i mean you no harm, you know. ❞ ❝ i do not trust you, but i need you. ❞ ❝ we’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. close your eyes. ❞ ❝ since you ask so nicely, how can i deny you? ❞ ❝ no wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. ❞ ❝ why should i beg for what is owed me? ❞ ❝ a lord may love the men he commands, but he cannot be a friend to them. ❞ ❝ let them try and trouble us, we’ll show them what we’re made of. ❞ ❝ a leader should be feared, by friend and foe alike. if men think me cruel, so much the better. ❞ ❝ the enemy of my friend is my enemy. ❞ ❝ a book can be as dangerous as a sword in the right hands. ❞ ❝ i am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. ❞ ❝ these are desperate days, and like to grow more desperate. ❞ ❝ we need to find shelter before nightfall. ❞ ❝ there are footsteps behind us. we are being followed. ❞ ❝ this is no common fog. it stinks of sorcery. ❞ ❝ i am glad you came to me. it is good to see you again, my friend. ❞ ❝ the man who does nothing also takes a risk. ❞ ❝ the women are the strong ones. ❞ ❝ afraid, are you? i would be if i were you. ❞ ❝ tell me a tale. some tale of valor with a happy ending. ❞ ❝ i’ll have a cup of wine as well. to clear my head. ❞ ❝ we may lose our heads, it’s true...but what if we prevail? ❞ ❝ keep your swords sharp. we’ll have us a real fight soon. ❞ ❝ this is going to end badly. ❞ ❝ what are you doing here? how did you get past my guards? ❞ ❝ it is so hard. to be strong. i don’t always know what i should do. ❞ ❝ let us instead speak of love, of dreams and desire. ❞ ❝ you wound me, wandering off like this. have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon? ❞ ❝ with this sword i defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. ❞ ❝ it is too late for such misgivings. you made your choice. ❞ ❝ in times as confused as these, even men of honor must wonder where their duty lies. ❞ ❝ why? what did i ever do to you? ❞ ❝ we must be certain that we do not choose the losing side. ❞ ❝ dream sweet dreams. there are no monsters here. ❞ ❝ i know who you are. i know what you are. ❞ ❝ a little honest loathing might be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet. ❞ ❝ a bloody sword is a beautiful thing. ❞ ❝ a ruler belongs to their people, not to themself. ❞ ❝ if the ones i killed come haunt me, i will kill them all again. ❞ ❝ you shine so brightly, you will blind every man who dares look upon you. ❞ ❝ a fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, i’ve heard it said. ❞ ❝ there’s blood on your hands, aye, same as mine. ❞ ❝ i have done wicked things, i know, but i could not bear for you to hate me. ❞ ❝ it is good to see you smiling again. ❞ ❝ i have doubts enough without you throwing oil on the fire of my fear. ❞ ❝ blood pays for blood, a life for a life. ❞ ❝ go home, if that is what you want. i am staying. ❞ ❝ a man’d think there’s no trust between us. ❞ ❝ i would choose freedom over comfort every time. ❞ ❝ you are even lovelier than i was told. ❞ ❝ stay. i do not wish to be alone. ❞ ❝ treachery on treachery. is there no end to it? ❞ ❝ dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? ❞ ❝ one wrong word, and this could turn to blood in half a heartbeat. ❞ ❝ you lie. i can see the truth in your eyes. ❞ ❝ throw down your steel and stand aside, and no harm need come to you. ❞ ❝ you are supposed to be my friend. why must you mock my hopes? ❞ ❝ it is better to die with honor than to live without it. ❞ ❝ it does no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. ❞ ❝ i see you are deaf to sense. ❞ ❝ you are no better than me. we’re just the same. ❞ ❝ a man should never draw his sword unless he means to use it. ❞ ❝ you kill men for the wrongs they have done, not the wrongs that they may do someday. ❞ ❝ close your eyes. close your ears. turn away. you do not need to see this. ❞ ❝ the sooner we are gone from this place, the better. ❞ ❝ i am sorry my actions have displeased you. i did as i thought best. ❞ ❝ you do not need to trust a man to use him. ❞ ❝ if you cannot do this thing, you need only say so. there is no shame in that. ❞ ❝ never wound a foe when you can kill him. dead men don’t claim vengeance. ❞ ❝ this is what i wanted, what i worked for. so why does it taste so much like defeat? ❞ ❝ honest men should never need to hide their faces. ❞ ❝ i am not the trusting fool you take me for. ❞ ❝ men’s lives have meaning, not their deaths. ❞ ❝ he’s dead. he won’t bite. ❞ ❝ if this is the price for peace, i pay it willingly. ❞ ❝ it makes me wonder whose side you are on. ❞ ❝ dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? ❞ ❝ i will not say that you are welcome. nor will i deny that i have hoped that you might come. ❞ ❝ you have the eyes of a wolf and a taste for blood. ❞ ❝ men are mad and gods are madder. ❞ ❝ one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞ ❝ not all risks lead to ruin. ❞ ❝ is there some place with fewer eyes and ears? ❞ ❝ i need you now as i have never needed you before. ❞ ❝ tell me, is there any fight left in you? ❞ ❝ it was the wind that you heard screaming. ❞ ❝ crying? i was not crying. why would i cry? ❞ ❝ are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking down every man who stands in your way? ❞ ❝ rain. a storm is coming. ❞ ❝ that was simple. simpler than i dared hope. simpler than it should have been. ❞ ❝ see that you do not speak of this. i’ll not have this tale spread. ❞ ❝ how could i be so blind for so long? ❞ ❝ you had a bad dream, that was all. ❞ ❝ are you prepared to defend that boast with sword or lance? ❞ ❝ i will do it. i said i would. i will. ❞ ❝ think that. believe that. tell yourself it’s true. ❞ ❝ you have more enemies than you know. ❞ ❝ i have no heart. i only have a hole. ❞ ❝ it has been too long since i’ve killed a man. ❞ ❝ words are wind. words cannot harm me. ❞ ❝ have you forgotten who i am? ❞ ❝ too many good men died that day. ❞ ❝ it is so good to see your face, your sweet face. ❞ ❝ it is still not too late to abandon this folly. ❞ ❝ i will not stay here to be insulted. ❞

[voxisdaddy]

Rewritten

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

C/TW: Implied cheating/infidelity, depression

Type: Oneshot | Angst but bittersweet ending

In which even if you were meant to love Lucifer, despite everything’s that happened, you could still love another.

It was difficult existing sometimes.

You felt like you served no purpose. Like you failed the one thing you were meant to do. What was that one thing?

Betrothed to Lucifer—the favourite son of the Heavenly Father.

Things were so heavenly between the two of you at first. Lucifer, while not enthusiastic about being given a bride, quickly fell for you. And you? Well, you were made for him. Of course you loved him. Anyone who knew of you two, all agree that you two are a match made in heaven.

If only that lasted the eternity that was promised to you.

When the creation of Adam and Lilith came to be, your joyous attitude to this new wonder quickly started to sour. It only worsened when you eventually found out the truth. Lucifer didn’t love you anymore. Whatever he felt for you seemed to pale in comparison to what he felt for Lilith.

Then the creation of Eve came to be. Lucifer, ever the dreamer and occasional trouble maker, meddled in that too—carving an ugly mark into heavens plans which would lead to the banishment of Lucifer and his new bride.

You had spent many nights and days sobbing over the man. How could he love another? How could he promise to love you for eternity and lie? How could he sneak off and…never formally end things with you if he no longer loved you?

Your heart ached for centuries. He betrayed you. Angels…shouldn’t be capable of that. But he had it in him to do it anyways.

Naturally you’d find a weird sort of friendship with Adam. It wasn’t long until he came to Heaven as the first human soul when you became acquainted. You could see through him—his attitude that everything’s okay. You saw that same look in your own eyes every time you looked in a mirror. Just like you he was hurt. The two people who were meant to be his forever loves were taken from him. And his sons turned out…less than ideal.

As centuries and centuries went by, things became easier. Lucifer wasn’t on your mind all the time by a certain point. Eventually the only times you’d remember him would be if you happen to overhear someone sharing the story of Lucifer—Heaven’s most famous fallen angel.

You didn’t think you’d stay single and moping forever would you? Of course not. As heaven got more populated, the more charming faces came about, each with personalities of all kind at every corner. Heaven’s never felt more lively.

Eventually you’d meet someone who found a way into your heart—intentionally or not. You didn’t know you were even capable of loving again.

You hated it.

You hated that every moment you spent with your partner, a part of you ached. You hated that every time you gazed into their eyes, you couldn’t get fully lost in them. You hated how an ‘I love you’ felt like a betrayal.

You hated Lucifer.

Even if you could fall in love again a part of you yearned for Lucifer. How could you not feel it? You were quite literally made for him. You were made to love him. You didn’t have a choice on who you could and couldn’t love when you were created. Your heart and very being was created to love Lucifer for every eternity.

“I wish I wasn’t created sometimes, your highness.”

Sera tries her best to offer you a safe space to vent. A place to let you be upset, for you to mourn, cry, be angry, and sometimes laugh;

“—and despite my wings still healing from the noodle incident, they still took me on a cloud flying date, your highness! They held onto me and never let me go!”

Seeing you fall in love again is a favourite of Sera’s.

With that comes with it’s heavy weight of guilt and anguish due to who you were made for but…you’re proving the odds to become your own person.

Even when you meet Lucifers daughter, you can’t help but feel satisfied with yourself for how strong you feel like you’ve moved on. You thought you’d never forget a single detail of Lucifer but when seeing him again through his daughter? Well, you hardly recognized her.

A part of you will always long for Lucifer—a part of you you’ve grown to hate but learn to ignore—but at least now as you say your vows to someone who actually means every single word of love and promise, you know you can love again. And no matter how hard the strings tug, your love will never waver for your new life partner.

The new partner reader meets can be anyone really. I wanted to write something to join in on the “Lucifer leaving reader for Lilith” stories that pop up every now and then, but give it a more happy ending for reader

[junedenim]

2005

beneath the boardwalk, part 3 (series masterlist)

mardy bum

warnings: fluff, angst, fuzzy behavior, lil smutty, robert, etc.

word count: 15.1k

We experienced the cruelest case of January, but in sheltered boxes covered in ice, it was the greatest winter of my life. In that teenage love haze, I had fallen deeply into that frozen-over lake and never had a chance to break out of it.

On my winter break, Alex and I had kept to ourselves. There wasn't much point in going out. Permanently wearing jumpers and trapped under copious amounts of blankets, winter felt warm. We had resumed much of our behavior that had taken place before my departure. Hidden away in his room, we spent most of my winter recess there. We ate dinners with his parents and went to parties we probably left too early.

In those cavities, we found a way to occupy them easily. Sex was always there but we'd grown wary of doing it with his parents around now that they knew we were together together. Writing sometimes occurred but silence was hard between the two of us. Talking, talking, talking always.

At times, it felt like a tween-aged slumber party. Alex painted my nails once. Toes & fingers. He did a decent job with steady hands and shaky breath. I taught him how to braid my hair. You know that thing where people shake hands with someone or they kiss their cheeks and vow to never wash that part of their body again? I kept those braids in my hair for far too long. They were never particularly good looking but the way my hair, looking black against my pale skin and the white snow, fell out of those twists seemed to frame my face just right and placed this prideful beam on Alex's face that makes you giddy. I couldn't bear to withdraw his creation.

"Could you ever see yourself living in London?" I asked him one night. We were on opposite ends of his bed, each propped up to look at the other on the further end. Our intimacy lacked in touch but ran deep enough to create faults in conversation.

"Yeah." He smiled, knowing what I was hinting at. Could you ever see yourself living in London with me?

"It would be smart for the band." I tried to play off like that was my concern for him.

His eyes knew otherwise. "Yeah. For the band."

The band consistently had gigs about once a week and they had never been bigger. Jumping around at their gigs helped keep your body heat up. I dragged friends to them, never Joanie, that chapter had finally closed, and she vowed—a vow she kept for far longer than any of us imagined: forever—to never get back together with Matt. AB and Claire became good company and they remained steady through university. Unlike Alex and I, they were both at Aston together.

In Peter & Debora's living room (two people I have yet to meet, despite occupying their living room), I spent my last night up north at the Monkeys gig. It was quite funny, probably the last small venue I ever watched the band in. There must have been several dozen of us packed into this living room. I sat on the arm of Peter & Debora's couch. A drink in my hand, something fruity. Alex got it for me.

He was edgy before gigs, even ones small, especially small ones. The majority of the room was people we personally knew and I think that always heightened his nerves, feeling the need to impress them in some fashion. He was extra quiet; didn't even speak to me unless I asked him. He was touchier and stood beside me, resting his hand on my knee.

Then, he went up and played and was the cockiest son of a bitch you'd ever heard. "What tunes do you know?"

"Choo Choo."

"No, no, can't do that." I think of the immense amount of pleasure he got from this. Being some god to hold power over his subjects and not play "Choo Choo" at this gig, but also, never again.

I don't mean to bore you down with the repetition of things but our nights were often the same. A setlist with a rough version of "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" and a concluding "A Certain Romance." Most of these nights blended together with enough alcohol to flood a house.

Peter & Debora's had a somber tone to it. Most of its attendees would be going back to school and the most important one (me, obviously!) would be long away unable to facilitate as a muse. Alex and I didn't talk about those things. For many years, to our detriment, we didn't address these departures. We didn't even make promises to visit one another, which could have lent itself to an easy break-up, but somehow didn't.

I think we were comfortable with the idea of slipping away from one another. Looking into the future, it felt natural for that to be the case at our age. Alex would be off on some tour and I would be god knows where. I saw 3 paths: teacher, be my mother, or—hidden in my bunker-shielded wildest dreams—a writer. I hated the first 2 options but the second seemed likely, especially as I sipped away at another drink and had started accumulating a drug collection to put a pharmacy to shame. The extent of that collection was hidden from the Yorkshire folks, even Alex. None of it seemed coated in optimism.

I naturally slipped into hazes and that would be the only point I'd imagine a world Alex and I made it past 2005. On New Year's, we kissed, awkwardly slobbering drunk, I tugged on his shirt and slurred, "I've got you for 1 more year, at least, swear it." He reached down and lifted my hand and between our chests, he pinky sweared it.

Claire scooted next to be on the couch in between songs. We had kept in touch, more than Joanie and I. Over the winter, we had spent countless nights like the good old days, but much like Alex and me, we made no plans for the future. Summer seemed like the general assumption.

"I'm gonna miss you, baby." Claire kissed my cheek, ever affectionate, ever wasted. I thought about the lives we used to have where she'd place her arm around my waist and I'd lean into her and it felt like the ultimate comfort. She had been my haven for so long but I think by that time we both accepted that we didn't need much of each other anymore. We had faded with school, boyfriends, and apathy. It hurts my heart more now than it did then.

After their performance, Alex took Claire's seat beside me. He was sweaty and gross and probably tasted sweet. "How'd we do, Janie Lanie?" He had been doing that a lot lately, calling me something rhyming with Janie, like a version of The Name Game, typically a few drinks in. I thought he might fall backward onto the couch with how wobbly he was.

"A solid performance."

He shook his head. "Nah, uh, uh, uh. I'd like details please." His eyes were hazy and he propped his head onto my shoulder. He was so small then and I'd like the idea that he was only ever this small and soft with me. Even in the future, when he met the love of his life he would grow jaded and less willing to display this delicate quality, I would have the knowledge that I was the only girl who ever got to experience him like this. I had these thoughts often. Gazing off into the far future, I was desperate to still be on Alex's mind, though in every scenario we weren't together. I guess I didn't have that much belief that anyone would stick around with me. I had fallen deeply for him by that point but there was no need for me to fool myself into thinking it would be forever, despite how much that remaining naivety in me wished for it.

"You had quite the ego tonight," I told him.

He lifted his head, sure to be spinning. He talked with his hands, flinging them around with each word. "Well, you know, I had to please the people. Give them what they wanted."

"What about what I want?"

He leaned close, breathing the same breaths as me. "I only aim to please, Jane C."

I leaned away from him, back to the wall, getting the full look of him. "Is that so, hmm?"

"Why don't we go back home? I'll show ya." Home, collective usage. I allowed myself the fantasy that it was our home we were going back to. We'd ride in the car after Alex drank and I would allow him to fiddle with the radio and my hands. Other nights, he'd drive and I would drift in and out of sleep but my fingers would play with his hair. A house would be a home. I never grew up with the feeling mine was. It was a big thing and the only thing that felt warm to me was my room. I long to go back to that bedroom sometimes. Sure, memories with Alex, but a thing is only the sum of its parts and most of those parts were childhood afflictions of loneliness that turned into art. Those cherished stories, ones I would whisper to Alex, and write about in my diary, then write to publish, took place in those four walls. House, home. It all felt far off.

We did go back home, my parents'. I smoked a cigarette on the way, which annoyed Alex because I had rolled down the window to do so and the cold rushed in, burning a chill through him. The radio hummed in the back and he didn't bother to play with it. Through the drunk state, we both recognized the somber mood.

"Claire told me Will dropped out of uni."

Alex languidly chuckled. "Only a matter of time."

"Shocked he even bothered."

He shrugged. "You always knew him more than me."

I shook my head. "Probably not. Will came off how he appeared."

"You got any plans with Georgia when you get back?"

"Not yet. She stayed over break so I'm sure she's got something planned."

"What about Robert?"

I hummed. I was slightly confused by Alex's mention of him. I hadn't spoken to Robert over break. Maybe brought him up once in a story I told.

"Any plans with him?" Alex asked further.

I laughed. "Robert isn't someone you make plans with."

"Okay." We didn't talk the rest of the way. I hated every minute of it. I hated the fact that he got drunk and he knew I couldn't get drunk because I had to drive. Mostly, I hated the fact that we were out of sync. No longer were we occupied with talking, endless bouts of talking. Alex didn't even bother to fiddle with the radio. He just stared out the window. I blamed it on me leaving and that's what it was mostly about. Mostly.

When we had sex that night it felt forced. I hated feeling stiff with him but he was drunk and didn't have much care other than the need for release. It felt sticky.

He fell asleep quickly and I prayed he would have a headache the next day.

Instead, I woke up with a kiss on my nose. Gentle and enough sweetness to never starve again. "Why are you waking me up?" I moaned and stretched. "Why are you up?"

I felt his hand on my side, wrapped around me, keeping me to him. "I have to say this now."

"What?" Deep stretch, toes curling.

He tapped my side. "Come on, this is serious."

I was going to ridicule him. Waking me up was not a way to grab my attention. It was a way to piss me off. But his tone indicated something to me that I needed to know further. "Okay."

He didn't speak right away. Looked over my face and I felt like it was the first time I was speaking to him again. I realized he was trying to memorize me. His hand came up and cradled my cheek, soft against calloused. "I, uh, fuck, Jane."

Alex sounded raw and it worried me. It made me hate myself for all those feelings of anger I felt the night before because he didn't rub my clit. "What?"

"I'm just gonna miss you so fucking much. I know we don't do this mushy crap. You don't like that kind of thing but give me a pass."

I absolved him. "You're forgiven." My lips cracked a smile and I bordered on a giggle.

"I just love you and I wish you were here all the time but your happiness being in London weighs all that out and I just can't—I'm so proud of you. I shouldn't feel this desperate for you but I just can't help it. Oh, fuck, I sound stupid." He ducked his face into his hands. It is the cutest thing I have ever seen.

"No," I insisted. A few beats passed in waiting for him to lift his head, which he didn't. "I always found I love you to be stupid but I suppose I'm a mushy fucking idiot." He lifted his head and I hugged my arms around him. I couldn't bear to look him in the eye when I said. "I love you too." Muffled away in his shoulder. It was the most awkward we had ever been and will ever be. Any stiffness dissolved after that. Alex and I would fight again; we would even break up, but something in that morning shifted and we were never awkward gangly teenagers like that again. Steady ever since.

When we pulled away, he kissed me. "I have something to tell ya."

I giggled. "Other than that?"

"Well, I love you and you'll love this." Cheeseballs, us two. "We've got this gig on February 18th."

In November, I vowed to myself that when Alex dropped hints of gigs, he wanted me to go to them. He wouldn't inconvenience you with an invite, you just had to assume he wanted you there. "I'll go."

He let out a small laugh. "You better because it's in London."

My face went dead. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, which means we can do Valentine's Day together and make fun of it the whole fucking time but actually enjoy every minute of it." He knew me too well. It was almost annoying if it wasn't the most endearing thing that had ever happened in my life. Him getting to know me. Him knowing me.

I cracked completely in two. Wide smile, bright eyes, full view of my teeth. "I love it. I love it all." I kissed his lips, then his cheeks, then his nose, then his eye (left then right), then his ear (right then left), temple, forehead, nose again, chin, lips again.

"Quite the display, Janie, you're gonna have us get a fine."

"From who? The police in here?"

"I know your mum runs a tight ship."

"My mum is only the police of martinis around here." He stole that line from me. Plagiarist.

His hand sketched my back, got to know my shoulder blades, became acquaintances with my spine, made love to my butt cheeks. Ass man, for sure. Then, he kissed my boobs. Boobs man, for sure.

I'm a sternum woman, for sure.

*

In the first week of February, I kissed Robert. It was in the bathroom of his house at a shindig he was having (shindig is the only way to describe it). He was doing a line and I was smoking a joint. 

"Gimme some," Robert urged me. He had a habit of mixing substances. Alcohol with coke was a given, then anything else he could get his hands on.

I held the burning paper close to my chest like it was my child threatening to be taken from me. "No! Get your own."

I inhaled from it when he grabbed my face and sucked the smoke out of me. He manhandled me and I took it. I'm the one who initiated the kissing part to convince myself it was some point of passion. He grabbed my boob tight like he was trying to force something out of it. I reciprocated by squeezing his dick through those stupidly tight ripped jeans. He squealed like a pig and I laughed, easing my struggle with another spliff.

I never told Alex about it, partially because it wasn't my fault. The other part was that I was flattered by it. I feared I lacked desirability at times and I was a girl ashamed to admit that cheating on my boyfriend didn't make me feel guilty. I'm not dumb either. I know he wasn't innocent either. One night over winter break, when Matt and I were talking at a party—Alex was off in the bathroom—he enthusiastically told me a story about a night out after a gig. Halfway through he said, "Alex was otherwisedly occupied." Matt's drunkenness left me unable to investigate further but I assumed Alex snogged someone. I wasn't annoyed by it for some reason. Probably (definitely) my parents.

My head hurt after the whole thing and I focused on the bathtub's drain for too long after. "Would you finger a girl?" I asked.

He inspected himself in the mirror now, dragging his cheeks down to reveal the red pockets of his eyes. "You?" I saw his reflection smirk at me.

I shook my head. "No. I just wondered if you were the type of guy to finger a girl."

He turned his head back at me and wiggled his eyebrows. If it was anyone else I think I'd laugh at the act. Robert made things seem stale. He licked his lips like a dog would. "You should know, love, I would do anything."

I laughed at his instability as he wobbled back and forth and darted his eyes around the tiles. "Would you let me peg you?"

He pulled down his jeans, his belt clashing with the ceramic sink. He turned around, bent over, and spread his ass cheeks. "Come and get it, baby."

I laughed hard, hitting my head on the window, sputtering a peal of painful laughter out my lips. "All types of diseases live in there. I'm sure of it."

The bathroom door opened, revealing Georgia. Neither Robert nor I made a point to move because Georgia wouldn't care. "Jane, do you have a fag I can borrow?" I rifled through my purse and tossed my pack at her. She plucked one and then threw it back to me. She left without another word.

Robert stood up and turned around full-frontal nudity, but my eyes kept focused on his eyes. "Would you fuck me?"

"Me?" I pointed to myself quizzically.

"I'd fuck you right now. In that skirt." Red velvet, as tasteful as the cake. I ran my hand over the fabric. My blouse, white and ruffly, plus sheer black stockings made me look like a librarian. Guys like Robert got off on that kind of thing. "The Literary Type." I think the only thing that would have turned him on more is if I wore pigtails in my hair and called him "daddy."

"Men would fuck a cat if it let them." The weed mellowed the situation more and I knew Robert wouldn't hurt me so I felt fine teasing him.

"I only like one kind of pussy," he hit back.

I let out a hint of a chuckle. "Nice one."

"Come on, love." He gestured to his cock, which I still hadn't made eye contact with. "I would let your boyfriend fuck me in the ass if it meant I could fuck you."

I took a puff and if I closed my eyes for long enough I was outside a pub in Sheffield talking to Alex. I sometimes fingered myself to that thought. Conversation with Alex was probably why the sex was so good. I would think back on a funny thing he said and I would orgasm from it.

"Have you ever seen 2 Fast 2 Furious?" Every time I smoked since that night I felt Alex's arms wrap around me.

"Movies like that signal the downfall of society. What pointless piece of shit?" Robert was one of those people.

I scoffed, "Not everything can be A Clockwork Orange."

"Why shouldn't it be? Shall we do a little droog behavior?" He shook his dick at me and the insinuation of raping me was what finally made me move.

"I'm going to go home now."

I walked by him and he didn't protest. He pulled his underwear back on but took his jeans off. "Hey, Jane!" He shouted as I walked down the hallway to his living room. "Think of me when you do it." His fingers spread and he wagged his tongue in between them.

I gave Georgia a kiss on the cheek and went home, thinking about that conversation, replaying it. I blamed it on my high. I didn't masturbate for a month.

*

Alex came to London on the eve of Valentine's Day. He had come from a gig in Manchester the night before and his dedication wasn't unnoticed. He made a point of those things after the previous November. Silent confirmations. I had never felt like a worse person.

I buried within myself. I wore a freshly bought vintage coat when picking him up at the train station. He fiddled with the ends of the pointed fur collar and picked at the buttons of its double-breastedness. I bought it because I liked it but I wore it because I knew he would. Alex has a weird thing for clothes. More appealed by what a woman uses to cover up than reveal.

It was late when he got in but earlier than I thought he would be. He placed a hand on the small of my back and kept it there until we arrived back at my place. It was an affection we had never done for one another, publically. Everything felt weird. Publically.

We ate dinner on the floor, Chinese from Tai Won Mein, and talked like no time had passed. We talked about nothing, the entertaining nothing. Except it had turned into the lying nothing. I felt we both were keeping things from one another but I was too ashamed of the pleasure I had from flirtatious acts with Robert to ask whether Alex had slept with someone. I knew he hadn't. Because that would be "cheating." Snogging, especially drunken snogging, was excusable. I figured that anything I did high with Robert would be excusable too.

"The gang is going to come to the gig," I told him.

He raised his eyebrows and chewed away at his Kung Pao chicken. "Who's the gang?" He sounded like my father. It felt unnerving.

"Mhm," I sounded, "Georgia, mainly. You know, that whole crowd. They liked some of the music they heard from MySpace." I plucked away at my rice. Focused on the grains, not him.

He snorted. "Georgia & Co. don't seem like the type to be on MySpace."

I shrugged. 1 grain, 2 grain, 3 grain... "We're all full of surprises."

He waited. I waited. His eyes stared at me for long enough to draw them away from the rice. When I met his gaze, his eyes ducked back down to his carton. "What about Robert?" Rice, 1 grain, 2 grain, 3 grain, 4.

"Hm, yeah."

Alex chuckled at some thought in his head. Before I could ask, he told me, "I think Jamie and Robert would get along."

Robert would eat Jamie alive. Probably induced by some coke high, something would possess him to unhinge his jaw and eat Cookie. "Yeah, maybe."

*

That night, when my head was on his sternum I told him, "I want a turtle."

He snickered into his hand. I tilted my head, looking at him through his chin. "What kind of turtle?" He asked. "A snapping one? It would fit you."

My nail poked at the skin under his chin, picking away at some non-existent thing. "How pleasant you are?" I sighed and rolled onto my back, his arm pinned around but he never voiced a complaint. "Maybe a box turtle. They're the kind they have in Central Park."

"Ah, New York." Alex grinned. It seemed from genuine emotion but it was faked by how wide it was. "You'd look good in New York."

I groaned dramatically and rolled back onto his chest with a slap. It could be seen as fitful tossing and turning or some form of theatrics. I picked at the bottom of his chin again. "I'd only live in New York if you lived in New York."

He grabbed my hand away, the picking annoying him, but he held my wrist in his grip and rested the conjoinment on his chest. "I'd try New York."

I giggled and sat up on my elbows onto his chest. "We'd be Americans."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think I'd ever get away with being an American with my fucking accent. You'd be fine. Could pass for British royalty."

"Does that make you my Wesley?"

"'As you wish.'"

I fell beside him again, lying on my side, and rested my head on the neighboring pillow. He placed both his hands on his chest, I hadn't trapped an arm this time. "Did you have pets growing up?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"You must have had the loneliest childhood. No siblings, no pets. Did you play with rocks to pass the time?"

"Very funny. I had friends, you know."

I mocked a look of shock. "Really?"

"Hush now," he willed. "What did you have growing up? A pet alligator named Bartholomew."

"Very funny." I curled my arm under my pillow. "We only ever had a goldfish."

Alex smiled. I'm not sure at what. "Really?"

"You know how goldfish live like a week before they die?" He nodded. I excitedly drew closer to him. "Ours, Lady Penelope—"

His laugh cut through my words. "Like Thunderbirds?"

I bulged my eyes, duh! I continued, "She lived like 5 years. Tommy won her at a fair and they had her in a little plastic bag with barely any water. She didn't get a bowl until the next day but she was strong. Harper really wanted a cat but Tommy was all like 'That wouldn't be fair to Lady Penelope.'"

"Tommy sounds sweet." I hadn't realized that this was the first story I ever told Alex about Tom. My memories of him are short, affected by the wills of time. Much of his life has been reframed in my mind, infected by my grief and rose-colored views I had as a child meeting the harsh black & white light.

I was lit up by memories of him and Lady Penelope. The joyous times of my youth. "He cared for her more than most people care for their children. He wasn't usually like this. He played rugby and used to wrestle Greg in our backyard until he cried. Something about that fish. I don't know." I smiled thoughtfully at the ceiling. I felt an ache inside that I hadn't felt in years. I'm not sure if it was from Tom or some longing for that innocent time when monsters under my bed were the scariest things I could imagine.

I felt flush all of a sudden, pale in the face. "'That damn fish won't die.'"

Alex chuckled. "Your mum say that?" The Russian-American-pretending-to-be-British inflection in my voice clued him into who I was reciting from.

I repeated the phrase twice. "We went on vacation, came back and that fish was still swimming."

"Lady Penelope had a strong spirit."

I felt stuck in a loop, staring at the ceiling, mouthing the words, "'That damn fish won't die.'" My mouth kept doing it. My brain kept repeating my mother's voice. "When Tommy died...my mum, well, I don't know. We were all shells of ourselves but my mum." I felt tears in my eyes but I couldn't stop staring at my ceiling. "You know, she wasn't always like this? It's hard to believe. I can't. When we came back from Tommy's funeral she kept saying that. Repeated it for days. 'That damn fish won't die.'"

"How'd she die?" Alex asked.

I almost didn't have the heart to tell him. The devastation I had felt at 10 felt too strong for Alex at 19. "A few days after the funeral, my mum flushed her down the toilet alive. I'd like to think she's swimming in the pipes still."

Alex lacked follow-up questions after that. I turned away from him and he made no moves to change my position. He dropped a hand to my shoulder and squeezed it but we didn't talk and I cried at some point in the early morning but I think they went silent and unnoticed. I started to realize these things after moving away. I was a wishing well that was now overflowing.

*

We didn't do anything special for Valentine's Day. Alex didn't get me flowers and I didn't get him chocolates. We spent the early morning together, blanketed from the cold. I left for class around noon. Alex said he just walked through the city during that time. "Exploring."

That night, we went to dinner, but neither of us had money to do anything quite expensive. (I could've but buying Valentine's Day dinner with my parents' money felt wrong). We went to a pub around the corner from where my last class was. Alex got a beer and I drank about half of it but he didn't complain that I should've ordered my own.

"So." I smiled at him. Too brightly it made him raise his eyebrows in a questioning manner. "I probably won't go on whatever vacation my parents have planned for this summer. I finally have the uni excuse and though I hate to leave Stacey alone with them, I'm not subjecting myself to a month on a booze cruise."

He smiled over his beer. "Where are you going to go?"

I stared intently at him with a grin, biting my bottom lip. "Well, I was kind of going to ask you that."

"Oh." His face sank. His finger skimmed over the circle of his glass. "I guess I didn't give you our whole schedule for the summer. I kind of figured you'd be away for most of it. I was gonna tell you." He seemed eager to reassure me. "I told you we were planning a tour and since things have gotten bigger that's just gotten bigger so most of the summer we'll be on the road and we're recording the album and I don't know if we'll really have time to go away somewhere."

I placed my chin on top of my joined hands and smiled. "That's fine. I kind of thought, I mean, if you wouldn't mind an extra person shoved in your van."

His eyes shot open and then squinted. His brows furrowed. "You mean, like joining us on tour?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

He shook his head with a giant grin. "I'd love that. You—you could write your stories on the road. I mean, it can get loud—we can get loud and uncomfortable but with the downtime, you could write. You could be our roadie."

I sighed. "I don't know how much writing I'll be doing—"

"Stop," he urged. "I'll make you write every day. I love your writing."

I bashfully looked down at the table while my cheeks flushed. "I always thought I was more of your groupie than roadie."

"Oh, so now you're a groupie. You took offense to that name before you found out the other alternative was hard labour."

I pouted my lips at him. "I'm a petite little girl. How am I supposed to lift one of your large amps?"

"We gotta get you to a gym, Janie."

We left the pub around 10 and had sex in my little twin bed, which wasn't bad considering we were used to Alex's bed of the same size. We were too cold to even take our shirts off. We cuddled after for warmth, necessity, need, and want.

The next day, we bought discounted chocolate at Tesco.

*

Jamie and Robert didn't get along. If I remember correctly, they never spoke. After the show, we managed a few drinks before the force from my gang was leaning toward heading back to Robert's place. His flat was revered by them as if it was an infamous club that they were lucky to even stand in line for.

"Robert's place has got everything under the sun," Georgia raved. "It's like the British Empire, the sun never sets on it."

I snorted. "A more apt descriptor would be the sun never shines on it."

"Fair enough, pet." She kissed my cheek. It was a weird name but Georgia viewed the way she bestowed out nicknames as a gift to the receiver no matter the complexities of the name. Robert was Burns, after the poet. She called Alex—never to his face—"Shrub" because of his stature.

I squeezed Alex's hand, which was somehow in mine. I don't remember how that happened. I leaned over to the guys so it was just the 5 of us in some semi-circle. "It's got a lot of pubs 'round it so if you want to ditch, plenty around it."

"Fuck that, I want to see what's at Robert's," Matt cheered.

It felt like Barnsley all over again but with a new set of people. We were scattered around drinking bits of things. Everyone seemed calm compared to prior nights and compliments about the show were sputtered out by people, albeit not the sweetest.

"Honestly," Tisha slurred, "I didn't believe it when Jane had a boyfriend. I thought she was, you know, gay like the rest of us."

"At least bi like Burns." The Monkeys didn't know who Burns was.

I sipped on white wine out of a red solo cup and Alex sat next to me sipping a beer. We were both on the floor, the rest of the Monkeys on the couch. Matt hung on Georgia's words, Jamie's hand was being drawn on by Yaayaa, and Andy looked like he was a sip away from falling asleep.

"Well, it's very sweet. Aren't they sweet?" Tisha continued.

Alex was stiff.

Robert didn't help things. He walked into the living room and tossed his bottle of Adderall at me. Alex looked curiously but didn't ask what it was. I tucked it away.

"Jane!" Robert sang. "Time to reciprocate. Should start calling her Mary Jane, you know." He looked over at Alex and it made my skin burn. The idea of getting high wasn't crazy. Robert talking to Alex was something I didn't enjoy and I wanted to go home.

Georgia squinted. "Don't you have something, Burns?"

"Not yet, Georgie."

Adam generously gave out some from his collection. He'd probably ask for repayments when we were sober, except me. Adam gave me weed for free because we smoked together while watching Wife Swap.

Alex and I shared a joint between us. I thought about blowing smoke into his mouth but it felt like I would be exposing my secret. I felt icky about the whole thing.

My eyes fluttered and laid my chin on top of Alex's shoulder. His eyes peered down at me and a giddy smile ran across his face. He pushed a chunk of my hair behind my ear. It was a tender comfort that I had never felt before and knew I would never feel again. The act of him being the first person to ever comb his way through me. He was determined to take hold of me and never let go.

I couldn't bear the thought of losing Alex. That night, for the first time, I realized that all that indifference I had exhibited at the idea of Alex and I breaking up was fake. It was a shield to defend my well-being so that I wouldn't come off as a fool in love. I mocked my friends for so long when they told me at 16 that their boyfriend was The One. As I neared 19, I thought, why couldn't it be Alex? No one had cared for me that way. Listened to me, held me, asked questions, shared their secrets, shared my secrets, knew me, loved me, pushed my hair behind my ear.

"What are you thinking, Janie Wanie?" He was letting out a high-induced giggle.

I didn't say anything. I dropped my head into the crook of his neck and wrapped my arm around his middle. His arm hugged around my back with a soft tug closer into him. He kissed the top of my head. We just sat there.

I, unbelievably so, fell asleep at some point amongst the rowdiness. A light shake awoke me, barely conscious, Alex whispered, "You ready to go home?" Home. We're going back to our 3 bedroom brownstone where we have 2 cats and a goldfish that's lived for 10 years. (The insanity of kids popped into my mind but I was still high).

I nodded into him and we stood up individually before reconnecting to lay my tired head on his shoulder. His arm pulled around me. "We're gonna go," Alex announced, mainly to just Andy, Matt, and Jamie.

Robert came from behind. "Eh! No need, Janie, can just sleep here." Robert didn't usually call me Janie. I told him once that only Alex called me that. I was unsure of how I felt that Robert was trying to get under Alex's skin. Shamefully, part of myself felt pride that I was desirable enough to want to rile up my boyfriend.

"We're gonna go, Rob," I countered. Robert hated being called Rob.

"Hey, I'll let Alex stay here too. Free of charge." He said it like it was some generous offer. That the next move Alex should make would be to bow at Robert's feet and thank him for the opportunity to sleep on his pull-out.

"They just want to leave so they can go fuck," Matt joked.

The vulgarity of it startled me. Times like this, this weird confrontation, I wish that Alex and I were hidden again. I grew stiff by Matt's words, even if they were just playful. I was weird about that stuff, especially with Alex. The idea of other people assuming my sexual business, true or not, felt invasive. Matt being this way when we were back up North felt fine. Matt being this way in Robert's apartment felt uncomfortable.

Alex turned his head back at Matt and said harshly, "Hey." Matt understood the impression quickly and ducked his head down, going back to talking with Tish.

"We could always do that threesome we talked about, Janie. You know, Alex could fuck me in the ass." Robert's smile was calculated. I felt like my skin had fallen off and was going through a meat grinder.

His comment had caught the attention of everyone in the room and I could picture the way Matt's jaw probably fell open and Jamie's scowled squinting. "Robert!" Georgia scolded from across the room.

I couldn't think of anything to say. My head felt foggy and any zany comeback I could have had was lost in the smoke. Alex felt the same way, so taken aback by the comment, that a smart response had been lost in the shock. "Okay, man, we're gonna go," Alex said.

We were silent the whole walk out of Robert's building. My heart pounded and I worried about the way Alex would react. I felt lightheaded, maybe from the adrenaline, maybe from the weed. We made our way down the stairs, attached. The moment we left the building, Alex pulled away from me. He threw his head back laughing, clutching his chest.

"What?" I questioned with an infected giggle.

Alex shook his head, took a deep breath, and pulled me back into him. "Whatever that was about me fucking Robert in the ass." He broke out into laughter again and I did too. Crackled in the snow-covered pavement. I felt warm.

On the train ride back, I fell asleep again. Nestled in that nook. In bed that night, I fell asleep in that nook and we didn't have sex. I was too tired and too swayed by everyone imagining that we were—that I was—having sex.

*

In March, Georgia and I go to Paris for a weekend. We end up staying for a week. I email Alex about the whole trip.

Who do you love more? Georgia or me?

*

In April, I received a CD from Alex in the mail. It was much like the first CD, artwork done by Matt, the CD that had "Jane C." written on it and a note wedge in between.

Don't be offended. I like you a lot, mardy bum.

*

The night after our last classes, I get blackout drunk and sleep on Robert's pullout with Georgia. I was woken by a call from Alex, who will be playing at The Dublin Castle that night. Hungover, hungover, hungover.

"We've arrived!" Since when was Alex this cheery?

"'Kay."

I heard a chuckle. "Take some painkillers, Janie."

"'Kay."

I took some pills on an empty stomach and Robert made us Blood Marys citing them as "the only true cure for a hangover."

I was worried for tonight. I was prepared for a redo of their previous London concert, which went fine but I was hungover from a massive binge that involved more than just alcohol. Everyone would also be going again. Everyone. The plans afterward would likely not change much. People tended to want to go to Robert's for free will, a good bathroom for blow, and a good bed for fucking. It was disgusting but I felt like a luxury for a bunch of 18-year-olds away from their parents for the first time.

Tonight, I felt like a closing of the chapter, temporarily, but necessary for all of our health.

"I like Alex," Georgia tells me on the train back to my dorm, Defoe.

I felt hazy like I had lost a lot of blood. Georgia let me rest my head on her shoulder. "Me too."

"It'll be good for you to be with him for a while. Get away from all of us." She sounded sorry like she regretted ever introducing me to her friends. I wondered what had happened last night.

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah. Miss ya too."

*

I met Alex backstage, dressed in bell-bottom jeans with a white tee, and a black wool jumper thrown over to combat that cold, early spring weather. I had boots on that clunked the ground and echoed so loudly you could hear it across the building.

His head turned at the sound of it. I don't know if he recognized it to be me or if they were really just that loud. "As I live and breathe, Jane C."

He was dressed in a similar fashion as me: black jeans, black jumper, longer hair. "You matching me?"

I still hadn't made my way to him when he whistled and said, "Looking good, baby."

"Ew, never do that again."

He pecked my lips quickly before hugging me close. It felt like I was just greeting him after coming home from work, not after a 2-month separation. "Your hair's longer." He fiddled with the ends of it. It hadn't been cut since December.

I scruffed the top of his head. "Back at you, Cousin Itt." His hair couldn't have been longer than a handful of inches, however, if I brushed mine in front of my face I'd be the girl from The Ring.

He took a handful of my side. "You've gotten thin." 

"Thanks." He didn't mean it as complimentary. I knew it then too but many of the unhealthy ways I treated myself in uni were willfully ignored at all costs.

I felt like throwing up then. Not from the pills on an empty stomach or the Blood Marys but from the way he looked at me. At first, it looked like concern, then like he was victimizing me. But the swish in stomach came when he said, "Who are you?" He said it as a joke but I felt like clawing into him and saying, It's me, it's the same me. Don't leave. Because the truth was it was the same me. I hadn't changed much in school as everyone said I did. Physically, maybe. The way I acted was the same. I just had access to more and, other than maybe Georgia, I had no one to keep me in check, and Georgia had a hard enough time keeping herself upright.

After the show, we went to a pub and sat in a booth with too many people squeezed in. I felt like if I had another sip of alcohol I would die but if I didn't have another sip I would die. Everyone was rowdy, loud, and annoying. It banged my head up.

I'm not sure what they were talking about. My eyes rested on the tabletop. Alex was louder than usual. I dramatically laid my head on the table. Tish yelled out, "Jane needs a reboot!"

I raised my head and announced, "I'm gonna go for a smoke." I grabbed Alex's hand. I didn't care if he was in the midst of a discussion on world peace, he was coming with me.

He accepted it and as we stood, Robert said, "Hey, I'll come with ya."

I wanted to bash my head in.

Outside the pub, I stood against the wall with Alex at my side and Robert in front of us. "I really liked the show, man."

"Oh, thank you, thank you." Alex looked like he had a hard time believing the compliment.

"You're becoming big. You know, at the start of the year, I thought this is just a girl raving about her boyfriend's shitty band, but now NME is raving about ya."

"Arguably we're still shitty." Alex made us all chuckle. If you didn't know us it would seem chummy. To me, it felt like we were all putting on a play.

"Janie told me she's joining you on tour," Robert said.

"Yeah, just around the UK, but it should be fun."

"I should start a band. Have Janie be my groupie." Robert had the persona of a drugged-out rocker. His band would likely sound worse than The Shags. He was trying to get a rise out of Alex. It was shocking to me how much Robert cared what Alex thought.

"Don't call me a groupie, Rob," I called back. It was a nickname wrestling competition.

He exhaled dramatically. "Groupies run the world, Janie. You should know that. I gave you my copy of I'm With the Band. Besides, I'm sure Alex knows a thing or two about groupies."

Alex's calm persona made Robert's skin itch and it turned me on with delight. "Your implication is lost on me."

"I'm sure you get girls all the time—"

I interrupted him, "Right now you sound like a groupie."

"Shall I get on my knees then?"

I pushed his shoulder. "Fuck off and go inside." Robert chuckled, scuffed out his cigarette against the wall, and listened to my command.

I wanted Alex to laugh like last time. He just looked annoyed and turned away. His back was against the wall and his eyes were elsewhere.

"Robert's so full of shit," I commented.

Alex nodded. "Why do you hang out with him?"

Deja vu.

"He's a cool guy. He's not always like this. We discuss things."

"Things?"

"Literature, art, I don't know." Robert was interested conversationally but he was more of a parasitic drug dealer to me at that point than a friend. It's hard for people to understand my friendship with Robert, but it just made sense.

"Okay." It felt like he was questioning me. My answer wasn't good enough. He didn't believe me. I'm not sure if it was paranoia or the truth.

*

My mother thought of the idea of inviting Alex to dinner. I had been home for a month. The band would be playing a gig at The Boardwalk at the end of May and I would then join him for the remainder of the summer tour. My family would be headed to Hong Kong and Macau for a month and my mother had begun to wear Mandarin dresses and say vaguely racist things with the excuse that they were going to be vacationing there so it was okay.

The dinner was considered a last supper of sorts and my mother had acted the dramatics out for it with weak guilt-tripping tools that I was abandoning the family for my boyfriend. This continued into dinner where, in spite of it being a "last supper" and my parents' first dinner with Alex (the wedding definitely didn't count), my father's co-worker, Bill, and his wife, Stephanie, were there along with their son, Billy, who was a year older than me.

"Billy is going into his last year at Oxford, right?" My mother gushed.

Billy seemed shy about the whole thing and uncomfortable to even be here in the first place. He was dressed in a blue button-down that he spilled water on within the first minute of dinner. He was geeky cute with glasses and a habit of bad posture. "Yes, ma'am." He had a practice of short answers and I gained pleasure every time he called my mother "ma'am," something she despised more than anything.

"And Alex, you're not doing school." She didn't say it like a question. It was a statement letting everyone know, like, "Just so you know, he isn't at Oxford like Billy." I found it funny that my mother felt the need to brag about someone else's kid rather than her own. I don't even think my mother knew what I was studying at school. Also, most obviously, my mother didn't go to university.

"The band is doing pretty good, so it makes sense to continue with that." He was nervous. His leg bounced enough to shake the floor and played with his food to occupy himself. I wasn't much help in comforting him. I was having my own panic attack and wishing I had argued with my mother about having Alex over for a humiliation ritual. Maybe this was his Illuminati induction ceremony.

"Makes sense," my mother mocked. She sipped her wine and looked toward my father at the opposite end of the table.

My father sipped his whiskey. "Well, I wish my Janie was in Macau with us. She's always been my good luck charm."

"What about me?" Stacey, poor Stacey, said. Like most things, Alex and I laughed, and her comment was ignored by my parents. I wished I could take her on the tour, even if she would be annoying and get in the way. I feared the boredom she'd have on vacation, or worse, actually having to hang out with my parents.

"Has Janie told you that story, Alex?" My father asked.

Alex, having no clue what story my father was talking about, shook his head.

"When Janie was born, I went to the casino and put a grand on 5 red in roulette because she was born on the 5th." Alex nodded because he called me on my birthday and got me a present (he apologized for his lack of budget but the stack of notebooks, mostly blank, besides 5 pages of his own delicately sweet writing). My parents sent a birthday card that came a week late, which means they forgot until Stacey reminded them. "I won, not one, not two, but three times."

My father's need to highlight the fact that the day I was born he went to a casino with little care was alarming if not predictable. His failure to mention that he lost that money the same day wasn't surprising either.

My father exhaled loudly. "I suppose you'll have the good luck charm this summer, Alex. God knows you'll probably need it."

We both ignored the dig. I wanted to disappear into my soup. Alex placed his hand on my thigh and it was the first time I recognized how reassuring his touch could be. It often quickened my heartbeat. This time, it slowed it.

Billy piped up and said softly, "I really like your music." He was as darling as you can imagine.

Alex made eye contact with Billy, shocked by the praise and unsure if it was directed at him. "Thanks, Billy," Alex said.

I grinned into my spoon. My mother sipped her wine.

*

In Glasgow, in the late hours of the night, the touring bands, their associates, and I sat on the tour bus drinking, smoking, and playing video games.

Alex had grown close to Miles Kane of—during that time—Little Flames' fame. I had grown close with their lead singer, Eva. She wasn't that much older than me, but she felt like a big sister. She was the only other girl on the tour, so we bonded and made fun of all the boys. A week before, when we first met, Eva pressed her cheek to mine and told Alex, "She's coming home with me."

While the band sound-checked and did all their boring concert preparatory things, I explored the cities. We had only been to Leicester and Edinburgh prior to Glasgow but I was aiming to take advantage of every city we were in, even if Al couldn't.

When I arrived at the venues, about a half hour before the shows, I'd sit beside Alex on a couch backstage, and recount my day. In Glasgow, I told him how I went to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery, the city's cathedral, and the botanic gardens. "And then I went to the Necropolis."

"What's a necropolis?" Alex asked. This is a very rare moment. Alex was a dork who read through the dictionary. He was also a dork who would not admit when he was wrong. He would rather flounder in unknowingness than say he doesn't understand something. Then, May 30, 2005, in Glasgow came around and I think he understood from that point on that I was always right.

"It's like a cemetery but they're ancient and the architecture is beautiful. The word itself means 'city of the dead' because they are so large."

He nudged my shoulder. "And you thought that Latin class would never come in handy."

I had a digital camera—a baby blue Canon Powershot—and we'd scroll through the images one by one. I always felt bad that Alex couldn't experience these cities like I did, too wrapped up in work, but I realized that Alex favoured cities more through the perspective of aftershow drinks than walking miles around a city. I preferred the walking.

On that bus's couch, I sat squeezed between Alex and Eva. The bus was loud and I was 4 drinks in and hanging off Al's shoulder. "Do you have to play FIFA again?" I moaned. FIFA Football 2005 is still the bane of my existence. Sometimes at night, I dream about it. Those little avatars roaming around the field. I can hear Jamie screaming about Matt cheating and then Matt screaming that he wasn't and then Jamie insisting that he was and then Matt insisting he wasn't and then Andy saying that Matt definitely was and then Matt whining that he wasn't and then Andy saying that maybe Matt wasn't and then Jamie getting pissed that Andy had flip-flopped and then Jamie demanding a rematch and then another rematch and then another rematch and on, and on, and on. I still hear it. Blah blah blah!

"We gotta finish the tournament!" Matt insisted.

I stood up. The room was spinning but I was determined to make it to the bed. The narrow one Alex and I shared. I fell on it and sprawled out like a dead rat might do. I was still dressed in jeans and determined to not sleep in them. I moaned out like someone could hear me. Packed away in the other room and they were screaming at one another about their stupid video game. It made me vomit.

No, like, seriously, I was vomiting. It had overcome me and with Miles occupying the bathroom for the last 10 minutes, I had nowhere to go and I vomited on the floor. It was so gross that it made me vomit again. I was disgusted with myself. A pile of vomit at my feet. (I was becoming my mother).

I felt steadier with much of the alcohol out of my system now and traveled to get paper towels from the kitchenette. I walked in front of the TV, which triggered yelling from the couch potatoes. I felt if I opened my mouth again I would projectile vomit on them so I remained sealed as I walked back.

Unknowingly, Eva had followed me to the beds. Behind me, I heard, "Aw, baby girl" as she spotted my rejection on the floor. "Are you okay?"

I nodded.

"Do you want me to get Alex to clean that up for you? Because I'm definitely not."

I chuckled at the idea but shook my head. She handed me the trash can and a bottle of water before disappearing back into the main cabin.

I finished my cleaning duties and crashed. Alex came in somewhere around 3:30 AM. I didn't want to fight, even if I was mad.

The following night, Eva made a joke about the vomit and Alex's head snapped unaware. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"FIFA," I answered shortly.

*

I did write. Not as much as the idealized version Alex had in his head but I wrote on slips of paper and on the nights when we went to bed at the same time, he made an effort to read them. They weren't very long. Kind of glorified diary entries but he raved about them like I was Joan Didion or something. One evening, somewhere on the road between Bristol and Cardiff, I wrote the following entry. Alex never read it.

We are on the road once again. I don't know how I feel about all this movement. At least I don't have to drive. Alex is sleeping right now. Everyone, but Mike [the driver], is sleeping. And me, obviously. I like these early hours on the bus when it is quiet and no sign of life. There's too much noise sometimes. I want to be still for a couple of days. I think I'm mad at Alex but I can't decide. I think I had a fantasy that we would be together and it would click. It does, but every few steps we get misaligned. I think it's the lack of stillness. We're not 2 kids in his room, in Sheffield, in Wakefield, in Barnsley for months & months. I think I'm not used to this version of him. I wonder if he's not used to this version of me. We're silent too much. I think I need to get more friends or a job or something. I think my life is too wrapped around him. I wish I kidnapped Stacey so I'd have someone to argue with. I'm going to watch TV now. No FIFA.

I never quite got used to all the moving we did. I never asked Alex about it either. It was weird how much two people could talk and also have an issue with communication. For about a month straight we zapped around the country before stopping in London.

"You're gonna be on the BBC this is so cool!" I cheered while tugging on Alex's arm. 

"We've been on the BBC before," Alex downplayed.

We had just entered the hotel room we would be staying in. Solo.

I rolled my eyes. Alex sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "You've never played on the BBC before and I get to brag about you so it's a win-win."

"Yeah?" Alex looked up at me with a smug smirk. His eyes traced their way around me. His hand reached out to mine and I accepted it. He tugged me to sit beside him on the bed. "You brag about me, Janie?"

"Well, I take pride in you, you know. To see something built from the ground up. I was at your first gig, I was at gigs nobody was at, I was at gigs everybody was at." He chuckled boyishly at my excitement. "I know I haven't been there for the last year but even hearing about everything. You signing with Domino and Five Minutes with Arctic Monkeys, which I've been meaning to tell you is not 5 minutes you know that, right?"

"You're so cute when you get all worked up over clerical errors."

"It's not a clerical error. I know you have time management issues but 6 minutes is not 5 minutes."

"Well, I take long when I do things." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Now your sexual innuendos."

"Hey, I take pride in my lasting time and as my girlfriend, you should too."

"The last time I took pride in you, you switched the topic. You're too bashful to accept a compliment."

"I don't know." He shrugged and turned away from me with a shade of pink. "I'm just as proud of you."

I laughed. "Pft, what have I done?"

"All this is 'cause of you."

"You wrote the songs, you play them. I'm just the muse."

"You're a hell of a lot more than a muse, Jane."

*

That night, we walked around London and talked. Properly, no FIFA, no Monkeys. Maybe it's because I enjoyed showing him around pockets of London, but I think being just with him felt right. The closest we'd come to privacy in the past weeks had been in a bunk bed with Matt only 3 feet above us. 

It felt odd to walk around London in the warmth. Of course, it wasn't a blazing heat, nonetheless, we felt little need to wear anything heavier than a zip-up hoodie. We sat at Regent's Park and while it was no replacement for Charlton Brook, the flowers felt like something out of Wonderland. 

"I like it here," Alex whispered to me as if it was a secret he wanted me to keep.

"It's beautiful," I commented.

He nodded. His eyes slowly glanced over at me. A smile cracked across his lips. "Yeah. I like being here with you."

"Ditto," I replied. We weren't touching but it felt like gravity was pushing us closer together and soon enough we'd be in each other's arms. 

His hand brushed my back and I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not but he seemed to focus on his hand for quite some time. "I know you're not having the best time."

I shook my head. "I'm having a great time."

He moved his head slowly. I was unsure if he was nodding or trying to shake his thoughts out of himself. "Okay." He thought for some time, then said, "It's not your fabulous adventure though. I'm sorry."

I scowled. "I mean, I'm not staying at the Ritz but I never wanted that anyway." I had many doubts about ourselves, but it never occurred to me that Alex felt that in himself.

"I just want you to have fun."

I giggled. "I am having fun. It's impossible not to have fun when watching you give Miles lap dances."

He pushed on my back. "Oh, stop it. You're just jealous."

"Well, yeah, I mean, come on. I haven't had sex with you in weeks."

Alex furrowed his brows. His cheeks flushed pink and he giggled nervously saying it allowed. "Didn't I finger you in the bunk last night?" Although he was shy, he neared me with a certain predatory look that was typically reserved right before eating your prey.

I rolled my eyes. "Sex. S-E-X. Where the penis goes in the vagina."

Alex leaned back on the bench, insisting, "It has not been weeks."

"Yes, it has!" I countered.

Alex placed his arm behind me on the bench. "I fucked you in that pub bathroom in Manchester last week."

My lips parted as the drunk memory refloated in my mind. "Oh, right." It wasn't very glamorous. The pub's bathroom was as gross as you could imagine and I refused to touch any surface in the place so Alex had to manage fucking me from behind without pushing me into anything while we were both wildly drunk. Not either of our finest performances.

"Are you forgetting about sex with me, Janie?" Alex teased. He bent closer to me.

I shrugged. My perception of time had been thrown off a little. Some days were long, some days felt an hour short. "Nonetheless, it's been long enough. Why are we at a park anyway?"

"You want to fuck in one of the bushes?"

I laughed and tucked my feet up behind me on the bench. I leaned my side against the bench's backing and touched my shoulder with his. "In broad daylight?"

"We could find a big one."

I pushed him away with my shoulder but tugged him back with my hand on his other shoulder. "Let's just go back to the hotel."

I stood up and dragged him along with me. He put on a Queen's English accent and asked, "For what purpose exactly, Miss Cavendish?"

I returned with my horrible Princess Di impression, "I am dreadfully tired and must go to bed at once."

"Oh, I'll take ya to bed, Miss Cavendish."

*

At the end of August, I returned to Wakefield. The band continued touring in various English cities while I accepted spending the remainder of the summer at home, mainly for Stacey and her birthday on the 24th. The house was still as if nobody lived in it. Maybe because I had been moving around for such a long time, it felt odd to remain still.

I had left the Monkeys & Friends in Dublin. It was a concert that made me feel rather grown-up, I think solely because we had to present our passports for the journey. It was the first international show, even if it was just across the Irish Sea. Matt exclusively drank Guinness for 2 days straight and Andy kept trying to get Jamie to dress up as a leprechaun because he "fit the part."

Before the gig, Alex had Tim rent a car (you can't rent a car until you're 21 in Ireland) and we stole it and drove out to Wicklow Mountains early in the morning. It had rained the night before, the grass still smelled dewy and the birds had begun to start chirping after the storm. 

We parked and walked through Ballinastoe Woods, up crickety makeshift wooden steps. The woods looked like something written by Henry David Thoreau. Rain licked off by leaves and our steps rustled the ground beneath us.

"I'd like to live in a place like this," I told him. I think I might have said this in every city but I truthfully meant it in Wicklow.

Alex glanced over smiling at me. "You're a country girl at heart."

I shook my head and stuffed my hands in my hoodie's pockets. "I love the city. I'm definitely a city girl."

He shook his head, always knowing me better than I knew myself. "You're a country girl, Janie. You love nature. I'm shocked you haven't talked about having a farm and riding horses."

I beamed. "I'd like a horse."

He pointed a finger at me. "See."

I shook my head again, insisting, "Just because I appreciate nature doesn't mean I'm a country girl. I love the bustling of London. Never knowing what you're going to get up to in a night. I adore it."

He laughed at my word choice. "'Adore,'" he imitated. "All I'm saying is in 10 years when you're on a farm riding your pet horse, Buttercup, I'm definitely going to be telling you 'I told you so.'"

"Whatever you say, Al."

(I have a horse. Not named Buttercup).

"Are you a country boy?" I asked.

He shrugged. His hood was annoyingly over his head, hair in eyes, covering much of his face. He said he was cold. I didn't—and don't—believe him. "I like aspects of it. The quietness. The sun shining. I'm always happy when the sun's out."

I giggled at his bright face. He was smiling as the sun peeked out from the clouds. If I could, I would be the Sun. I rubbed his cheek with the back of my hand. "You're adorable."

He looked down at his feet as we walked on the dirt path. "I look a mess." He was self-deprecating and refused a compliment. Humble and insecure.

I came close to his side and bumped his hip. "You're the cutest guy I know."

"Stop it, you." He kicked a stone with his knackered Converses.

"Are you doubting my tastes?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows. A light threat on my part.

He laughed in an attempt to detract from the topic of the conversation. "I ain't no Hugh Grant."

"You better not be. Is the sequel to 'Scummy' you soliciting a prostitute while you're with Elizabeth Hurley?"

"Does this make you Elizabeth Hurley?"

I batted my lashes at him. "Well, aren't I as pretty as Elizabeth Hurley?"

"Prettier." Doubtful, Elizabeth Hurley in the Versace pin dress is the epitome of beautiful women everywhere, but I'll believe his lie for my ego and sake of argument at that moment.

"Believe me, you are way better looking than Hugh Grant. You're my little monkey, Alexander." I caressed my fingers against his chin. A weird habit I have, sure, but he has a fascinating chin.

He smiled down at me. "Thank you." It was odd. An emotional sincerity that we hadn't ever had. Usually, it was me being all insecure and feelings-obsessed. Alex buried things so deeply and I wore my heart on my sleeve, both to a fault. We were too in our heads about everything, especially during the time of the tour. We made the effort to make up for lost time but became obsessed with how that should be done rather than doing it. In short spurts of time—Regent's Park & Wicklow—it felt like we could just be. I was terrified by his changing personality that it didn't occur to me until the end of the tour that I could get to know this new him. He wasn't much different from the old him, all the qualities were the same, just new feelings and perspectives. It fascinated me to no end. It felt like getting to know him all over again and I loved that. I love cracking Alex open and discovering a new embellishment to his yolk every time. He has a new rivet in his mind, an unknown one or a new one. It's why I want to hang on to him forever. I hated myself for not realizing this sooner but I was smart enough not to punish myself for it in the moment. I focused on him.

I kissed his cheek. It felt adorably sweet like something out of I Love Lucy or something. I was flooded with so much emotion from kissing his cheek that I decided to kiss his other cheek. I stepped down from my toes and he was grinning down upon me. I kissed his nose with delight. Before I could go for his chin, he kissed my cheek and then my lips. It was a saccharine beat. 

I pulled away from him and continued to walk ahead of him on the path. Following his earlier directions of "Lead the way, madame." He was only a few steps behind me when he did something rare. He reached up and tapped my hand. I looked back but he didn't make eye contact with me. His eyes focused on my right hand. He reached up with his left hand and intertwined our hands. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. We held hands up the rest of the incline. No words were spoken.

On the drive back, all I remember is laughter. I asked Alex recently what we talked about on that drive back. My memory lacks that moment of what caused the uncontrollable nature of that laughter. He had no clue either. He only remembers nearly hitting a deer halfway through the drive, which led to more undiagnosable laughter.

Upon returning to Wakefield, I wrote in my diary, It is harmful to live through pictures but I long to return to Wicklow, atop that hill. Below the entry, I left a space to tape in a photo I took of Alex at the end of the trail. I never did print the photo out and the SD card is yet another thing to add to the list of lost items. (I promise that isn't the case in later years, but I was 19 and had the procrastination level to never get things done. Most of my belongings from that age were lost when my parents moved or sold in the auction before the move. "Excuses, excuses, Janie" was quipped when Alex read this passage).

At Stacey's birthday dinner, we ate at home at the dinner table per her request. Stacey still holds onto the belief that we can operate like a normal family. I think she's the only reason why we still make an effort. 

Shockingly, the dinner itself was enjoyable coated with something my family rarely had—laughter. Harper, Greg, and their spouses had both come into town, a rare thing when it came to birthdays. In a stunning act of resistance and resilience, no fights occurred between Greg and Harper.

We ate lobster for dinner. My mother abhors seafood and the smell of it, but she caved for Stacey. Maybe because she's the baby of the family or some gene—the mother gene—reactivated in Macau. Like she won it at a slot machine.

Halfway through the dinner, Harper asked me about the tour. Stacey squealed with excitement, "I want alllllllllll the details."

We laughed at her cuteness. I didn't quite know how to answer it. My instinct was to be quick and keep it vague. My parents didn't have much interest in my whereabouts or activities, especially with Alex. I don't think they had any clue how big they were getting. They pictured Arctic Monkeys playing in their neighbor's garages and not for the BBC. I think if they knew the BBC liked them, they'd condemn the BBC before they would praise the band.

I answered, "It was good. I liked seeing all these little corners of the UK and Ireland. Very beautiful."

Ian, Harper's husband, asked me, "Which city was your favourite?"

I shrugged. "Maybe Dublin, but that was only a couple of days ago. Recency bias probably."

"Harp told me they're playing Reading & Leeds," Ian said.

I nodded. "This weekend."

Stacey exclaimed, "I want to go soooooo badly. Please, please!"

My mother ruled, "No." She pointed her eyes at me. "We're barely letting you go."

Stacey whined, "Aren't I old enough now?!"

"You'll never be old enough," my father told her.

"What if we all went?" Stacey suggested.

I nearly choked on my own breath. The suggestion sent a buzz up my spine that could have the power to paralyze me. My lungs had popped like balloons and deflated completely into my stomach.

My mother began to laugh. Stacey's frown grew deep. "Never, sweetie, never."

Stacey sat disappointed but was later cheered up by my mother promising to take her shopping this weekend instead. She came back with diamond stud earrings. I think she preferred shopping.

*

At the Reading half of the weekend, Alex seemed in a completely different headspace. In every conversation, he was checked out, his mind elsewhere. I understood why.

The other boys didn't look calm either. Matt was pacing and jumping around. Jamie was on the phone with his mum. Andy was staring at the floor. Alex and I had snuck off the path from the group. Not completely out of their sight, but shielded from Andy's muttering and Matt's exclaims that he claimed to be from excitement and totally not from nervousness.

I grabbed his hand and his pulse was beating so hard it jumpstarted mine. We sat in some chairs behind the tent they were playing in. The weather was muggy and the sun was usually bright. They were set to go on in a half hour. Alex was sweating. I wasn't helping matters.

"Are you excited?" I was cheery, which definitely pissed him off.

He nodded rapidly, not a good sign. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Yeah, yeah."

"Then, you have Leeds tomorrow!"

He squeezed my hand. "Alright, Janie, let's talk about something else."

"Right, right. Well, after these shows, you'll be back in Sheffield and me in Wakefield—"

"Like the good ol' days," Alex quipped.

I rolled my eyes. "If those are the good ol' days then kill me now."

"Oh, come on. I couldn't have been that bad. I happen to think I was really cute a year ago."

"You've only gotten cuter, Al, you should know that. It's what makes all the girls scream."

He tossed his head away from my gaze in exasperation. He returned to my eyes with a grin. "Will you be screaming?"

I furrowed my brows. "No, I'm not a fool."

Alex boyishly giggled. He squeezed my hand tighter as if trying to communicate something in Morse Code.

"Shall we talk about your second year at Greenwich?" He asked it with enthusiasm. Always the proudest of me, even if I was dreading school starting up again.

I shelved my head on his shoulder. He looked down at me, eyes small. He looked sleepy. "I'll miss you."

"Good."

I sat up and punched his arm. "No love lost from you."

He clutched his upper arm. "Eh! You watch it." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. If we were to show any more affection, we might have hugged one another. "We'll be down at the end of September."

I beamed up at him and exaggerated my words as I teasingly said, "For M. T. V." He rolled his eyes, trying to seem humble and uncaring toward the performance. "MTV is a huge deal, Al." I shook his hand that I was holding. "Come on."

He exhaled loudly. "It's going quick. The single in October and everything." We never talked about this rushing fame and the effects it had on him. We celebrated it but didn't dissect it, at least not in that first year where everything changed in the blink of an eye. The year before we were smoking a cigarette outside The Boardwalk and now we were at Reading & Leeds talking about MTV.

I tried to turn his mind away from the thoughts that were contributing to that nervous look on his face. Heavy breathing, empty eyes, and shaky hands. "Do you think you could get me on Pimp My Ride?"

He looked up at me and laughed. "For your little Beetle?" I nodded. "Why would you ever want to change a thing about that car?"

"I want to get mine done like that Ford Capri that had a thousand Swarovski crystals decorated on it," I recounted.

Alex stuck his tongue out and gagged. "Awfully tacky."

"Exactly! Then, every time we ride in the car we can complain about how horrible it looks and feels but we can do it together. Then, maybe my dad will buy me a new one or something."

Alex shook his head. "I like the Beetle. Never get rid of the Beetle."

I shrugged. "I don't use it in London. I barely used it this summer. It's just sitting in my parents' garage. My mum is probably trying to get rid of it anyway."

"Don't let her. I like that car."

I sighed. "Okay."

We soon got up and I walked with him to the side of the stage. They all looked jittery. You could hear the noise from the crowd only growing louder and louder. "Jane, we need you to look," Matt told me.

"Huh?"

"You get the first look. How bad is it? Step out and tell us," he advised me. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me from behind to look out. I peeked my eyes out of the curtain at the endless sea of people. They were flooding out of the tent. It suddenly made me nervous but then I remembered this wasn't the Year 4 spelling bee and I calmed down. 

I looked at them, nervous and waiting for my answer. "It's an amazing turn-out."

They grunted like that was the worst thing imaginable. "I didn't want people to actually turn up," Matt whined.

"You wanted to play to an empty crowd?" I questioned.

Matt beat his drumsticks on his leg. "No, no. I'm just nervous, fuck, Jane." He turned his attention to his bandmates. "There must be a million people out there if she's saying it's an amazing turn-out."

There was no time to comfort, even though I wasn't sure anything I said would reassure Matt or the group. The stagehand came by and lifted the curtain, directing them out onto the stage for thunderous cheering. Their set was great. The following one at Leeds was just as out-of-this-world. 

When we returned to home base and Alex came over to my house, Stacey asked him how it was. He told her that he couldn't remember a single thing.

*

In the fall, a little over a week before "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" was released, the Monkeys played the Astoria in London, which seated about 2,000. It was the largest venue I had ever seen them at. Except for "Riot Van," they had played the first album in full and I naturally exaggerate things but it felt like every single person was singing. I brought just Georgia with me.

The band would leave for Portsmouth the next morning but managed to hang around for the night. Alex stayed with me at Defoe, instead of the tour bus. He was sweaty and as talkative as ever when he left the stage. I had thought of wrapping myself around him in a prideful sense but he had sweated through his Little Flames red T-shirt and I decided to wait until he put his hoodie on and we were out in the cold October air.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I wrapped my arm around his waist with the thought this is what adults do. I once again imagined we were heading to our home after an evening of fun—the ones you have after a long week of work. 

A diary entry from the following night read:

Sometimes I pray to be older and settled with Alex. A push-and-pull on my heart is too hard. I'd only speak these words to myself, but I've never felt so whole. A part of me goes where he goes. He's gone for so long. I only feel whole for a day. But that day is worth everything.

As we walked from Astoria to the train station, Alex kissed me. It was a hard kiss, the kind implanted on my lips still. He whispered in my ear, "I love you." We were going home.

I kissed his cheek, soft and serene. I had fallen in love with doing that in Wicklow and have never stopped loving it. "You were fucking amazing tonight. A proper rockstar."

He shrugged and kissed me again. "I missed you."

I squeezed his side, longing to feel his skin under his chunk of clothes. "I like it when you slag off the crowd. It always makes me giggle." The thought of him stopping mid-"Still Take You Home" to yell at can-throwers in the crowd made me bite my tongue to prevent bursting into more giggles.

He pulled me closer as if in retaliation for pinching his side. He dropped his head down to look me directly in the eye with wide brown puppy-dog eyes. "Did you miss me?"

I wrinkled my nose up completely and stuck my tongue at him. "Nope." I blew a raspberry at him.

Alex stood up and clutched his chest. "You are brutal, Janie."

I looked up at him. His eyes were ahead as he acted like he couldn't even make eye contact with me. Medusa fit me well. "I missed you and I love you, as Stacey would say, soooooooooooooo much."

He nodded pleased. "Good."

When we arrived at my dorm, we had sex. It was quick and, from my memory, gross. I believe this was the occasion where Alex sneezed on me mid-coitus and I got snot in my eye. Would his cum have been better? He came after that like it was some sequential release.

"I'm going to kill you," I promised him.

He was out of breath and nearly collapsed on me until I shoved him off of me and forced him to get toilet paper for me because I had no tissues in my room. He wiped it off of me like it was chivalrous affection. 

When he went to throw the paper away I asked, "When will I see you again?"

He sighed. The topic was always one we sighed at. He crawled back into bed and said, "There's that party we're having for the single release. You know, just at a pub and things."

I placed my cold hands on his warm shoulders. "I have this exam coming up soon." I bite my bottom lip. "Would you hate me if I missed it?"

He smiled at me. It reminded me of how I looked when he got off stage. "Course not. It's not that big. I'll write you about it."

I chuckled. "You'll write me about it?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

A week later, he wrote me:

Matt hammered. I hammered. Write more later.

The following week they had the #1 hit in the country. I held silent pride. I didn't rave about it to everybody. That day, Robert made some dumb joke about it, Georgia told me to congratulate them, and Tish played the song off her iPod. Later that night, I went out with a new set of friends from my Short Story Writing class. We went clubbing. Something my Beatnik group of friends wouldn't be caught dead doing. I loved it.

I danced with strangers and felt free. It wasn't dancing at some ratty pub or someone's house. I held the freedom of barely knowing anyone there. I chased it. "Dancefloor" came on right before I was about to leave the dancefloor for another drink. I was definitely drunk but I grabbed the hand of the girl I had been dancing with and said, "This is my boyfriend's song!"

She cheered and danced with me to it. I never saw her again and I think she didn't even hear what I said but I felt desperate to tell everyone that that song we just danced to was my boyfriend's. My new friends were amused by it but also thought I was psycho until they did eventually find out that I was, in fact, not telling a drunk lie.

The following day, Alex emailed and wrote:

Assuming you heard. Mad, right? Wish you were here to celebrate but we will do some more when the album goes #1, right? I'm saying "right?" too much. Repetition can be favourable to getting your point across, right? Right? Right? Right? I'm going mad. 

Love, Al

p.s. Jools Holland on the 28th. See you then, Jane C.

*

"No fair. You get to go to Amsterdam before me," I whined in Alex's ear. 

He chuckled back. "I think you have me beat on countries visited."

It was the eve of Halloween. The following day the band was kicking off a European leg of their tour. Alex and I were held up in my dorm. 

On Friday, they played Jools Holland. I was both their band's loyal groupie and bitter spokesperson. "Yes, he is cute, but I hear his girlfriend is even cuter" that kind of thing. Of course, I was saying this to Tim so their reputations weren't damaged much. 

As much as the Monkeys shunned the press in those early days and it was a rare time for Alex and me, London is—and this might shock you—a major city with many journalists. On Saturday, Alex did some press talking to The Guardian. Later that night, he walked into my dorm as one might come home to their wife after work. I was becoming a romantic nutjob.

On Sunday—Halloween Eve—Alex and I huddled under blankets. It was somewhere around 2 in the afternoon but you could tell me otherwise and I'd believe you. He'd be in Amsterdam tomorrow, then Sint-Joost-ten-Node in Belgium (Alex butchered the pronunciation every time), they would zap around Europe before their first U.S. shows and a Tokyo show, therefore, god knows when the next time we would be in the same time zone would be. I'd see him in December. I'd also be in my childhood bedroom.

"After this tour, you'll have me beat," I told him. I tapped his chin in a rhythmic pattern. His chin was my personal kick drum.

He was proud of this knowledge knowing he'd have more experience in something than me. Then, something else tugged his smile. He cuddled me closer. "Why don't you come with?"

I furrowed my brows, unsure but also completely sure of what he was saying. "What?"

"Maybe come to America with us or something." His grin gave me hope for something. Life called, unfortunately, and fortunately. 

"I'll have finals, Al." I giggled. It would soften the blow. I'm not sure if the blow was hitting me or him. I hoped neither of us.

He chuckled and nodded. "I know." He kissed me. "Someday." My daydreams in Prose Fiction in Context would be taken away by this.

I nodded. "A little shoebox."

"I hope we'll be richer than that." He hushed his voice as if he didn't want the zero other people in the room to hear us. "We do have the #1 song in the country."

I elbowed him. "Fine, then I want a pool please!"

"A pool for Jane C. it is then."

"And maybe a hot tub too."

"I'm not made out of money, Janie Yanie."

*

a/n: do i write too much for this series? maybe, but i can't help it. it calls upon me.

[moonshynecybin]

I find Marc covered up fully underneath his leathers, upto his neck & wrists, so fascinating when we have the others in half sleeves, mesh or nothing. I can't remember if he always was that way or changed midway, if there was a particular reason? If Alex does the same? It just gives regency era eldest spinster daughter hair tied up tight covered up to the neck waiting for the highest titled rake to come show her the pleasures waiting for her.

marc would be SOOOO good at the kate sharma of it all. like bridgerton season two is in many ways rosquez 2 me. marc WOULD deny himself love and marriage if he convinced himself it would protect alex and vale WOULLD close himself off from love for fear of losing anyone he loved ever again after the untimely death of his [dont worry about it] from a bee sting. perfect set up for vale to decide to court marc's much more agreeable and younger (NOT A SPINSTERRRR) brother who because he needs someone to secure the family's future with and alex is one of the most eligible and educated bachelors on the market. and he knows he will never fall in love with him. whereas marc is known for going on crazy person horse rides (how he first meets vale) and pissing people off. and ALEX is locked in this fun codependency thing with marc, where marc sacrificed so much to get him there from spain and its the only way they can like. still live in the same household because the marquez finances are a lil shaky for regency reasons (alex it should be noted will fall for vale's ward franky SO fast and they shall have their own tortured by familial obligation repressed regency drama please trust this. it WOULD involve alex saving franky from bandits. again trust.)

so anyways vale commits to courting the idea of alex. butttt marc and vale. kind of hit it off. chemistry! goofballs ! a game of crochet that legitimately turns a little dangerous (marc is. cheating the whole time lmao. vale is ALSO cheating he is kicking balls into the bushes and. possibly. checking out marc's ass when he bends over to fetch them. victimless crime looking never hurt anyone.) truly luca meets marc and is like lovely to meet the man my brother plans to marry :) and alex vale marc are all like. um. hah. about that. EVERYONE can see and marc and vale are down fucking horrendous but are cutting themselves off from love so aggressively its UPSETTING ! vale CANNOT lose anyone he loves and marc will sacrifice EVERYTHING for alex's future so they are locked in horny tension for monthsss. it is. insanely horny close proximity sniffing. it is. dancing at balls probably more than is strictly proper. it is. marc getting pushed into a body of water and having to strip off his paper thin old-timey shirttttt. getting wayyyy too into betting on horse races like they are throwing elbows. alone in various well dressed rooms breathing the same air SO much yearning and holding back because like. they CANT do that to alex (alex. does not want that man lmao).

until finallyyyyy its alex and vale's wedding day and marc feels like hes going to THROW UPPPPPP. worlds saddest little spinster. pale sad brave face on. but he walks in and vale is just. he cant take his fucking eyes off marc. at the alter in a church in his best suit. he cant stop looking at him. and he feels like hes going to cry but he doesnt know why. and alex walks in and looks at the two of them looking like they want to DIE and it clicks. right then. that theyre in love (huge relief off of his shoulders tbh. already sexting franky via horny letter in his mindpalace) like alex KNOWS his brother and he KNOWS the only way get marc to stop doing something self destructive is for alex to tell him he doesnt have to. so he turns away from vale and he takes marc's hands. and he calls of the wedding.

BUT that doesnt resolve our central conceit on vale's end. what do you do when the scariest thing in the world is the person you love dying. and that is a belief that has been informed by person you love dying trauma. well in vale's case you simply have to realize YOU ARE ALREADY IN LOVE... TOO LATE IDIOT. having them and MAYBE losing them is better than never having them and losing them ANYWAYYY. so in this its like. the wedding falls through, alex marries franky so hes fine, and marc gets in a HORSE RIDING ACCIDENT ! and its uh. not looking good. and marc almost DIES and vale wasnt even THERE and he didnt knowwww how vale feels. he never got to be with him :( truly life is fleeting go fuck your twink :( finds out marc is going to be okay and cries for hmm. maybe the first time in ten years? and then they get married :)

[claritys-silly-things]

It’s that time again yall

Headcanons! It’s a long one this time

Emetophobia tw

- (I think I can classify this as modern) Rip sodapop curtis you would’ve loved saying “I’m just a girl 🎀”

- Soda never liked haircuts. When he was a small feral child his long hair would get tangled a lot, but he’s tender headed as FUCK so he would scream and cry when his momma brought the brush out. Darry put sodas hair into braids sometimes just for fun and soda didn’t mind bc it kept his hair from getting tangled, and then it didn’t hurt to brush. He’s always had really soft hair and it grows super fast.

- Jealous little soda asksjks (this was about soda being jealous over pony getting attention as a baby but I don’t wanna edit the original ramble I wrote down)

- When ponyboy was born he just kind of STARED. No crying or anything just 👁️👁️. Even Darry cried when he was born. Soda cried a lot.

- Adding on, Darry and pony were pretty quiet babies. They still cried for food and stuff sometimes but not a lot. Soda was a LOUDDD crier, and a frequent one too. It was the type of crying that sounds like it hurts the baby’s throat cause they’re shrieking their head off. Also soda would cry for, like, the first year of his life if he was ever handed to his dad.

- If Johnny survived the fire and got a wheelchair, he’d be running over people’s feet. Constantly. Just because. Or bc they asked for it. Either way, the moment he gets a hang of that wheelchair it is OVER for yall. And probably before that too.

- Ponyboy gets the same. Goddamn. Thing. At EVERY restaurant. Partly because it scares him to order anything else, partly because he’s picky asf. He makes sure it’s there on the menu and has his order memorized by now. “Chicken tenders, fries, and a Pepsi please.” He’s tried to ask for other things in the past like eggs, cuz he likes those, but the moment they asked him “how would you like them done” he just stared at Darry because he didn’t know what all the different types of eggs were, and now he’s scared bc he’s taking longer, and the server is still there, so he just got sunny side up eggs and they were slimy and he wanted to go home and cry (based on a true story sadly)

- Basically pony has anxiety and probably autism (so me)

- Ponyboy likes avocado. That’s it that’s the headcanon. It’s like one of the only healthy-ish things he’ll eat.

- Soda gets suuuper nauseous really easily, and pony gets carsick on occasion. So the first time pony went to a theme park, his family was scared that he would throw up like soda. They go on a ride and he’s like “yall im fine dawg.” Soda is jealous bc pony can go on rides unaffected (soda will still go on rides anyways, he just throws up afterwards)

- Pony is the most PALE ASS BITCH you’ve ever seen. He burns soo easily. His face gets red really quickly, no matter what’s going on. The only time he gets the slightest bit darker is when he burns and tans. Two-bit has been like “you ain’t white you translucent” multiple times because in the right lighting you can see pony’s veins. It’s even worse because soda and Darry tan so wonderfully, and pony looks like he had an allergic reaction if he doesn’t reapply his sunscreen when he’s supposed to. I feel like Mrs Curtis is the reason for this, she didn’t tan. Mr Curtis did tho.

- Pony has mild (severe) ocd

- Marcia’s last name is smith she is white-Hispanic on one side and Native American on the other thank you for coming to my TED talk

- Marcia is Cuban and Native American

- Marcia’s full name is Marcia smith that’s it that’s the end

It’s funny cuz I listed these things like three times and just forgot about the other two

- Twobit is Brazilian end headcanon

- Mr Curtis had autism and Mrs Curtis had inattentive adhd

- Mr Curtis was half Mexican on his mom’s side and half Irish on his dad’s side. Mrs Curtis was full Italian-American.

- Darrys the typa guy to make pony and soda turn off a show or movie if it talks about possession or like demonic stuff/soul stealing stuff

- (Modern au) Darry will get a text from ponyboy about something, like “can I go in your room rq” and he sees it but doesn’t actually open the text message until later and like, two hours later he’ll just respond “no” and thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

[samuelsdean]

The Cure to Injuries

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 1.8k

author's notes: this is the first fic i have ever written since my stay on wattpad during grade school. so, forgive me for any mistakes & cheesiness that bled into it. spencer is too cute and he deserves more softness in his life. anyway, i hope you'll enjoy what you're about to read as much as i enjoyed writing it. i hope you'll like & reblog if you find this fic good. please do tell me if you want me to write more because i will!

GROWING UP, YOU’VE ALWAYS KNOWN YOU WANTED TO DO SOMETHING TO HELP PEOPLE. The first job you thought of was becoming a teacher. However, you realized that making lesson plans and dealing with naughty kids weren’t your thing. 

The next one was becoming a lawyer. But, you’ve had enough of seeing your dad being buried in paperwork and your family telling you, "You’d be a great lawyer! You literally enjoy debating with everyone."

Then, you thought of becoming a doctor. You were good at science, and you found the human body interesting. That was your dream until you had to see your friends vomit literal bile on the sidewalk and have their stomachs pumped after a night of drinking. After that, you didn’t think you could deal with vomit and other possible human excretions in the future.

Luckily, one sunny day, your brightest idea of what you wanted your future to be like finally came to you. You wanted to work for the FBI. You’ve always been a bit too interested in criminal justice, but at the same time, you wanted to fuse it with your interest in science. So, you’ve decided that becoming a profiler is your end goal.

You just didn’t think about how becoming one could involve getting bruised and battered, possibly even shot at and blown up, and you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

"Ow! It’s good you aren’t the medical doctor kind of doctor because your patient would definitely file a complaint against you." 

You huffed and puffed, as you gingerly sat on the ambulance, accompanied by your co-worker, Dr. Spencer Reid. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as he continued prodding you for other injuries. 

The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU, has been your workplace for almost four years now. You never thought you’d get here after you realized that you don’t only need brains to become a profiler but also brawn. Fortunately for you, you were too smart for the FBI to pass up on, and, well, you at least passed your physical exams—albeit barely but still enough to get to where you are now. Oh, the dream!

Where you are right now, despite that, is definitely not the dream. You were presently black and blue after being the one to take down and make the arrest of the unsub who had abducted children in Kentucky as surrogates for her deceased child. Despite your injuries, the day ended on a positive note. All the children are going home to their parents alive, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Well, that, and the incessant flocking of your co-worker, who just so happened to be the person with whom you have harbored romantic feelings for quite some time now.

"What you did was stupid, Y/L/N! You could’ve gotten killed, going in there like you’re bulletproof or something," Reid exclaimed, complete with the hand gestures and the word vomit when he’s excited or worried. "Did you forget what happened five months, seven days, and three hours ago? You got shot in the arm!"

In this case, you’re positive he’s about to pass out from all the talking and lack of breathing.

"You know, Reid," You chuckled in amusement and said, "I’m more concerned about you keeping track of the exact date and time I got injured. Are you sure you’re doing that out of concern for me as your coworker, or is it because you secretly have feelings for me?"

The doctor paled, his pouty lips opening and closing like those of a fish, swimming in the depths of the ocean.

"W-what?! What do you mean I have feelings for you?"

That made your heart twitch, and not in a good way. You knew the doctor couldn't reciprocate your feelings. He just happened to have a phenomenal memory. He can’t help but store random information; he has no choice but to remember. But, you can’t help yourself. A tiny part of you still yearns for him to return your feelings. Oh well, you’d rather have him as your friend than nothing at all. But, a little teasing won’t hurt, right?

"I’m kidding, Reid," you snickered, "I know you know that piece of information because of that eidetic memory of yours or whatever."

"It’s not just because of that, you know," Reid sighed.

That gave you pause. It seemed like your world stopped turning and nothing else mattered. It couldn’t be, you thought, there’s no way he likes you back. You’re you, and he’s this otherworldly guy. You can’t even believe he’s real.

"What?" You chuckled nervously, tugging at your ear gently, "What are you saying, Spencer?"

Spencer sighed and frowned, "I know I was the reason you got shot that day, Y/N. I saw the glint in your eye when you thought the best way to save me from getting shot was to push me out of the way and shield me. And that was a stupid move, by the way."

Your jaw dropped. You were about to say something, but Spencer beat you to it.

"Let me finish first," He said, raising his index finger as if to say I still have a lot to say, "It’s stupid because you almost got yourself killed. I was about to move out of the way when you covered for me and you got hurt! You got hurt, Y/N! How was I supposed to live with myself if you ended up dying that day because of me? How, Y/N?"

"But I didn’t! I’m here, Reid." You’re scowling now and about to rant Spencer’s ear off. " What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I wanted to save you that day? Because I’m not!"

You know that what you did that day was incredibly stupid of you. What Reid was saying was true. You could have died that day, but you were too selfish to admit that. You were so selfish that you couldn’t imagine living a life without Spencer Reid in it if you hadn't pushed him out of the way and ended up hurting yourself for it. And you have had no regrets to this day about doing it.

"That’s the thing, Y/N," Reid was almost full-on shouting now: "No matter how much you end up getting hurt to protect the people around you, you don’t care! Did you really think I’d appreciate what you did for me if you ended up seriously getting hurt, or worse, dead?"

Your vision is getting blurry from the unshed tears now. You love Reid so much, but he wouldn’t get it. He would never see you as more than just a coworker. More than a friend.

"No, Spencer," you sniffled, looking directly at him now, "I know you wouldn’t have appreciated it if that happened. Call me selfish, but I care for you too much to ever let anything hurt you and regret what I did."

You stood up from where you were sitting and were about to head to the SUV where you could be alone before driving back to the precinct, but Spencer didn’t let you. He held your wrist, pulled you back, and groaned.

"God, you’re insufferable!" He exclaimed, "Don’t you get it? I care about you, Y/N!"

"I know, Reid," you smiled wistfully, "you care about me because I’m your friend."

"No, I don’t." 

This made you stop in your tracks and stare at him intently.

"I don’t care about you as a friend, Y/N. I never did."

"Oh."

Reid sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t expect you to love me back—"

"I love you." This made Reid stop fully. "I have loved you since the day you talked my ear off about Doctor Who. I have loved you since that time I woke up in the middle of the night back in Atlanta and ended up knocking on your door because I couldn't go back to sleep. You told me you'd always be here for me."

"I love you, Spencer Reid."

Before you could overthink your sudden confession, Spencer held your uninjured cheek with his slender hand—and the next thing you know, he is kissing you. 

You couldn't help but gasp. You were startled by the suddenness. His lips were warm and soft, almost pillowy against yours. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Spencer's lips brushed against yours tentatively. The smell of his hair—like the smell of early mornings after a night of rain—was dizzying. He smelled so clean and fresh, like soap, with a hint of the smell of a new book.

You felt lightheaded as he swiped his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance, which you gave him. You could taste the hint of sweet coffee he drank just minutes before the takedown. You could feel the soft tickle of his breath and his fingers as he carded it through your hair while you breathed each other in.

You never imagined kissing Spencer could feel like this.

Regretfully, your bruised cheek was starting to take the brunt of all the snogging. You had to pull away because you were running out of breath, so you tapped his cheek. Spencer wasn't taking the hint at all, which made you giggle—cute. Having no other choice, you held both of his cheeks and pulled away.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, silly," you chortled; he's so cute. "I just ran out of breath, and my bruised cheeks hurt. It isn't your fault. Don't worry." You assured him.

Spencer sighed a breath of relief, which made you want to tease him.

"I know what can stop my bruises from hurting, though."

Eager to please you, the doctor was about to start searching for possible medical remedies to your injuries, not knowing you had something else in mind.

"You could plant a kiss on them." You grinned widely as you saw Spencer's neck start reddening, "I'm kidding, Spence," you said, "You don't have to—"

You didn't expect Spencer—of all people—to be the type of person who would shower you with kisses if you asked him, but he is. He started planting light kisses on the purple blotches on your face—not caring that anyone from the local police to your workmates from the bureau could see you. 

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N," Reid said, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he brushed his lips against yours once again.

You never thought the best day of your life would be the day you get injured. You never thought the best cure for cuts, scrapes, and bruises could be a kiss from the one you love the most—Spencer Reid.

[jaylienpotter]

Conceited

Jegulus one-shot

Warning: Lily Evans bashing (kinda)

"Why don't you give me a chance? Even to be friends?!"

Regulus turned around and walked towards the source of the noise. He knew that voice very well.

"I hate you, Potter!"

Seemed like Black's crush was getting rejected again. Part of him was sad for his brother's best friend, another, more selfish side of him, was relieved.

"Why?! What did I ever do to you? I know I was a prick to Snape sometimes-"

"You're a bully!"

"I'm not a bully! Snape isn't stupid, nor weak, nor innocent. He does the exact same thing we did to him! He's not a victim." He wasn't wrong, to be a bully meant it was one-sided. Snape and Potter were more like mortal enemies.

"Even then, you're still a rich, obnoxious, arrogant, selfish prat who doesn't shut up about himself! You're so bloody conceited!"

That hit. He could see the hurt in those dark brown eyes. People didn't know the effort the tanned skinned boy put into helping others, making sure everyone is happy, included, safe. He could have all eyes on him yet no one noticed. Except Reg. He noticed James.

"That's not true." The pair turned to him in surprise, pale hands becoming fidgety with the sudden notion of being watched. He kind of regretted speaking up.

"James doesn't talk about himself. Yes, he's sometimes a bit obnoxious and loud, and he does talk a lot but it's never centered around himself. You're getting confused with my brother, Evans."

"Oh, please. Those two are the same. You're not in Gryffindor, you don't hear them all the time." Right, but he did hear from the boy in private. In their late night talks that started after Sirius ran away. Because James didn't want Reg to feel alone. He noticed. He cared. He helped.

"What does he say then? About himself. Not about his friends. Or the stupid pranks they all pull." He dragged the word 'all', making it a point that it didn't count.

"Do you know his favourite colour? Favourite animal? Favourite classes and professors? His grades? How many people he's dated? Anything about his home life? His life goals and dreams?" It was too late to back out, the rant had begun, and you bet Blacks finish what they start.

"Because I don't think so. He might talk a shit lot, but it's about his group plans, his friends, making jokes, making others laugh when feeling like shit as so many do nowadays," himself included. "It takes a lot to get him to talk about himself as an individual, actually. You would know if you gave him a chance. But for someone so against judgemental people, you really do focus on his appearance." Green eyes wide, pink lips shut tight. Regulus contained his smirk.

"He's a good person. A great friend. Selfless and caring despite being from an old pureblood family. And he fights for what he thinks is right. He fights for others. With his big personality comes a big heart. So if you don't make space for the love he has to offer just because you think you don't believe he has it in him, he's not the conceited one." Red hair nearly flew with Lily's stormed exit. She hadn't liked their interaction in the slightest. It was better that way. She wasn't deserving.

Piercing dark eyes were burning a whole through black curls. Reg avoided James's gaze, afraid of what he'd say. He only faced him when he felt the boy closer, and he could swear Potter's eyes were sparkling.

"You meant that...?"

"Of course. You care so much about everyone else that you forget yourself. You couldn't tell me what you wanted to do in the future because it would depend on what your friends decided to do with their lives. You're the most selfless person I know, and if she thinks otherwise, she doesn't deserve your love or friendship."

Silence. He really wanted the older boy to say something, but he just stared, lips slightly parted. Icy blue eyes looked away, shoulders tensing from the attention.

Warm strong arms surrounded his small figure, nearly making him halt. But Potter's sweet, intoxicating smell had him relax and melt in his arms, wrapping his much slimmer ones around his tanned waist.

"Thanks, Reggie." His heart skipped a beat at the nickname and he hoped James didn't feel it against his own chest. He was also thankful to have his face covered, absolutely certain that his white cheeks had turned fully pink.

[celestoria]

Genshin Impact (Taylor’s Version)

Tags: SFW with semi-angst Characters: Scaramouche, Zhongli, Kaeya, Lyney

Scaramouche (The Way I Loved You)

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain // it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name // So in love that I acted insane // And that's the way I loved you // Breaking down and coming undone // It's a roller coaster kind of rush // And I never knew I could feel that much // And that's the way I loved you.

Loving you was so frustrating…yet so addicting.

Scaramouche had a complicated way of showing his feelings towards other people and always rubbed them the wrong way. However, you didn’t give up.

You noticed how the same lips that mumbled disdainful complaints were the same ones that would kiss you so passionately under the pale moonlight. His hands that would brutally throw a fight when needed are the same ones that would hold you delicately as he leads you to a secret spot only the two of you know.

Sure, there are times when you wouldn’t meet eye to eye, but in the end, no word would mean as much to him compared to the first time you told him you'll never leave him. Scaramouche felt so alive since he fell in love with you and he would never trade it for the world.

Zhongli (Wildest Dreams)

Say you'll remember me // Standing in a nice dress // Staring at the sunset, babe // Red lips and rosy cheeks // Say you'll see me again // Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha // Wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha

Times of old may be memories of the past but those moments shall never be forgotten.

How long has it been since he last saw you? A month? A decade? Centuries? It all feels the same when you’ve lived for 5000 years.

Still, he can’t bear to forget every bit of you, even if it pains him to reminisce about the days you called him yours. He loved how your hair flowed with the wind the first day you met each other during a busy day at the harbor, the distinct scent of your favorite perfume that could easily make his head turn, and even that beautiful shade of red that often smudged on the side of his neck whenever you were going out.

Sometimes your ghost haunts him in his dreams, but alas it was just a figment of his imagination playing what could have been if life was a little bit kinder to the both of you. But if everything is just one Samsara cycle playing over and over again, he promises to love every one of them until Teyvat and Celestia itself ceases.

Kaeya (Cruel Summer)

I'm drunk in the back of the car // And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (oh) // Said, "I'm fine, " but it wasn't true // I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you // And I snuck in through the garden gate // Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh) // And I screamed for whatever it's worth // "I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Everyone has their fair share of secrets, and Kaeya was no exception.

But he kept them buried where no one would find them. Like the last time he opened up about his deepest, darkest secret to someone he trusted, Kaeya fears you’ll push him away once he finally comes undone in front of you.

However, it was such a pain to keep things like that. Always yearning for you but never having you. Brave is the kindest word you can call a fool, so call him the most foolish man on earth when he poured his heart confessing to you how much his heart aches for you like it's his guilty pleasure.

He was ready for rejection to kick him in the guts like a horse, but instead, he was meat with your flushed cheeks and warm smile. To him, he felt like he was confessing shame, but to you, it was the few words you always wanted him to say.

The weight of pining finally fell off his shoulders, freed with the knowledge you always felt the same way for him. Kaeya’s thankful that even though luck often refused to be on his side, it gave him this small chance to find something sweet to make everything seem a little less cruel.

Lyney (Today was a Fairytale)

But can you feel this magic in the air? // It must have been the way you kissed me // Fell in love when I saw you standing there // It must have been the way // Today was a fairytale

To him, loving you felt like a romance novel, always making his heart flutter like the wings of doves flying out of his hat. It must have been love at first sight, the way your enthusiastic, wide-eyed smile became enthralled with his street performances as you stood amongst the crowd.

How lucky he is that fate allowed him to have someone always by his side. Though he was the magician between the two of you, you were always the one taking his breath with whatever you had to offer.

You seem to know how to make his gloomy days a little bright with a bright smile, how to make the simplest gifts feel like the grandest gestures with him, and how to make real life feel like a fairytale that he thought would only be possible in children’s books. The sun always seems to be burning on his cheeks whenever you try to kiss him.

Even though he knows every magic trick there is, how in the world he managed to pull such a beautiful person like you will always remain a mystery to him. That must be destiny’s own little magic, he guessed — always finding a way to let two people tied with a red string of faith find each other in a chaotic mess of a world.

[avatar-anna]

hi! could i request something in which y/n and harry are childhood best friends and one day harry confesses that he is in love with her but y/n rejects him because she doesn’t think she’s good enough for him so she lies and says she doesn’t love him so that he will move on and find someone better, but instead he still lines for her and eventually she tells him the truth and they end up together? ty!

this is about as smutty as i get so...enjoy!

"I—You what?"

Y/n felt like her stomach had dropped all the way to her feet. She felt like she was glitching, like her brain couldn't compute her life as she was living it. Harry was standing in front of her outside her house, jade green eyes wide and earnest as he implored her to respond. His hair, which now curled all the way down to his shoulders, looked unkempt, like he'd been running a stressful hand through it the whole way to your parents' house.

Harry smiled, a small hopeful one that looked like he didn't even know he was doing it. "I love you. In—In like a not-just-a-friend kind of way. I know we've been friends since we could walk and that this might make things complicated, but I just had to tell you before I left for tour."

It was safe to say Y/n was speechless. All her life, she never expected that she would be in this position. Harry was her best friend, the boy she'd grown up with and did everything together. Until his career took off massively, of course. But even then Y/n and Harry considered each other best friends. It was all she ever thought they would be.

"I don't know what to say," Y/n finally said. Part of her wanted to run back into the house, another wanted to run over to Harry and launch herself at him. But her feet seemed to be rooted to the floor, frozen as Harry's confidence wavered.

"That...doesn't seem like a promising reaction," he said, trying to laugh it off. But you knew him, and she could already feel her heart breaking as his own closed itself off to her. "I—It's okay if you don't feel the same, I just—I just couldn't keep it a secret anymore."

Y/n bit her tongue, keeping a lid on what she actually wanted to say, what her heart was practically beating out of her chest to say. "I'm sorry."

Harry's face didn't fall, not in front of her. No, he was too good for that. He would never make Y/n feel bad, not if he could help it. She knew good and well that he would wait until his back was turned or he was in his car to let his face betray how he really felt. And she knew how he was feeling. She felt the exact same.

Since she could make sense of complex feelings, Y/n had been in love with Harry. She loved him when he got her in trouble for passing notes in grade school, she loved him when they exploded flour all over his mum's kitchen when they tried to make a cake for her brother's birthday. She loved him when he made her sit through his band rehearsals, and even when he auditioned for the X-Factor. And she continued to love him despite his other relationships and breakups and everything in between.

"I mean, there was a fifty-fifty chance you'd say you didn't feel the same, right? I knew that," he said. "I just feel like I wasted so much time, and—Shit, I had a whole speech planned and now I guess I don't need it."

Harry was always better than her, in so many ways. Y/n had always been the pale moon to his bright sun. He would get invited to things, and she would tag along because he asked if she could come too. She sat backstage while he performed for the whole world. Y/n had appreciated Harry as a friend growing up, had cherished his companionship, but in recent years she realized she was dead weight. As his friend, Y/n traveled the world, met the most interesting people, made the most amazing memories. Harry did it all for her, and what did she do for him, exactly? Harry deserved more, deserved better. No matter how much she loved him or how long, the best thing she could do as his friend was let him be with someone better.

"Harry, I—"

"No, it's fine, um...Listen, I know the next thing I'm supposed to say is that we can still be friends after this, but I think I might need some time."

"Of—Of course."

For the first time since they'd known each other, neither of them knew what to say. The last time Y/n could recall them not speaking was when she got her period for the first time and she was too embarrassed to talk to Harry. She had a feeling they wouldn't be talking for longer than a day now.

four months later

It wasn't uncommon for Y/n to not see Harry, but this time the distance felt different, quieter. There were no long text chains, silly Snapchat videos, no phone calls just before he had to go onstage. Her only contact with Harry was through his occasional Instagram posts or talk show appearances. She knew that was coming, Harry had told her plain and simple that he would need some time, but she didn't think the hole in her heart would ache so terribly.

Even when they were apart, Y/n could always count on him to be there for her. Now they were practically strangers. It was her fault, of course, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"You're an idiot," Gemma said over the phone. Y/n had been avoiding Harry's family like the plague the last few months. She'd gotten away with it, probably because Harry wouldn't want to talk about what happened, either, but he must've, and now his older sister wouldn't leave Y/n alone.

"I'm looking at the bigger picture here, Gem," she said.

"What bigger picture? The only one I see is the two of you being disgustingly in love and everyone back home having to see it at Christmas."

It was embarrassing to say, even if it was the truth. "He's... He's outgrown me. There are people who would fit into his life much better than—"

"Really? This is about him being famous?" Gemma asked incredulously. "God, you really are an idiot sometimes, Y/n."

"Maybe, but I know he can do better," was all you could think of to say. "He'll get over it."

He'll get over me, she thought glumly.

Y/n heard Gemma's long, exasperated sigh. "Oh yeah? Is that what you think?" she asked, voice sharper now. "I don't know what you're afraid of, Y/n, but Harry is in love with you. He doesn't have a crush, he doesn't just want to have sex with you, he is in love with you. And you have been in love with my little brother for years. So pull your head out of your ass and tell him before he resents you for breaking his—"

Gemma's scolding paused, though Y/n wasn't really sure why. It was definitely deserved. She needed to hear it, especially from someone close to Harry. They hadn't spoken since he came to her parents' house to tell her he loved her, and she perhaps hopefully assumed that he would be okay afterwards. Hearing that he wasn't made Y/n feel worse, but it also made her realize that maybe she and Harry could work.

"Hey, I have to go," Gemma said in a rush.

"Why? What's—"

Y/n couldn't even get anything else out before the line went dead. She looked down at her phone, utterly confused. "Hope everything's okay," she murmured before going back to staring at the TV in front of her. She'd been doing a lot of that recently.

Later that night, Y/n was in her room getting ready for bed. She applied all her serums, and spent some extra time with her face roller, trying to ease the stress of her conversation with Gemma out of her forehead. As she did so, Y/n considered herself in the mirror.

She was pretty, she supposed. Not beautiful, like the models Harry dated or was friends with. She remembered feeling so intimidated and so insecure the first time Harry invited her out to meet some of his "industry friends." But now she was okay with the fact that she wasn't exotic looking or had fluttery eyelashes or a toned stomach. Y/n knew how to enhance the features she did have and was perfectly fine with not dating outrageously attractive individuals.

As she was putting crescent-shaped masks beneath her eyes, Y/n heard pounding on her front door. Startled, she carefully went downstairs, peeking through the peephole before opening it. Her eyes widened when she saw who was on the other side.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Why did you tell me you didn't feel the same?" he said, not bothering with an explanation. "You stood there as I poured my heart out to you, and, what? Weren't brave enough to say it back?"

"I—"

"I just don't understand why you would just wouldn't say it if you feel the same way," he continued. "Do—Do you think it was easy for me to admit that I was in love with you? Because it wasn't. But I didn't anyway. I just—I just don't understand—"

"I was afraid, okay?" Y/n finally said. She couldn't stand hearing her best friend be so upset with her. "I've—I have...loved you. For as long as I can remember," she admitted, her hands shaking as she spoke. "Since we were kids, you know? And I knew...I knew you didn't think of me that way back then. And then you become this person that everyone loves, and I—I'm not like them, Harry. I'm not."

Harry took a couple steps forward, toward where Y/n was standing in the doorway of her home. He didn't look as angry as he did before, the harsh crease between his brow easing to a soft furrow. "Like who?"

"Don't make me say it," Y/n said. She felt ridiculous enough explaining it to herself. She wasn't like his model girlfriends or heiress companions or artist friends. She was Harry's friend from the small town he grew up in.

But she didn't have to say anything. Harry had known Y/n long enough to realize what she was thinking without her having to say a word. She was honestly surprised he never discovered how she felt about him all these years.

"You really think I'm that shallow?" he said, sounding hurt.

"You deserve someone who's from—who can—"

"I deserve to be with the person I love," Harry told her. "Stop trying to dictate how I feel. Just let it happen, Y/n love."

Harry's voice took on a tone Y/n didn't recognize. It was soft, delicate. Like a caress. And then he did caress her, one knuckle grazing all the way down the side of her face from her temple to her chin. He held her there, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip while he searched for the answer to a question she didn't even know he was asking. Y/n felt breathless as Harry looked down at her, his gaze heavy lidded as he took in every inch of her face. She caught the nearly imperceptible smile as he looked at the patches beneath her eyes, but his expression turned into something that made her stomach turn into knots when they finally reached her mouth.

When he began to lean down, Y/n froze. She'd wanted this so bad for so long, had sabotaged herself and Harry into thinking it wasn't possible. But she didn't stop him, didn't move out of the way or turn her head to the side or tell him not to. Just let it happen, he'd said. So she did.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"I—oh—I really want to. Please, Harry."

"Tell me how you want me, love."

"I..."

Y/n was slightly embarrassed by how quickly Harry had seemed to light her entire body on fire. When they made it to her bedroom, he was all over her—kissing whatever skin was exposed while his hands rid her of her clothes. And she let him, eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open the whole time. Harry was relentless as he kissed a collar of bruises around her throat, one hand bracing himself above her while the other cupped her breast so casually, like he'd done it for years.

It was hard to imagine that this was what Y/n was cheating herself of when she told him she didn't love him four months ago. No one has ever made her feel this good, and they hadn't even done much of anything yet.

But in the haze of her own pleasure, she wanted to make sure that Harry felt as good as she did. He asked her how she wanted him, and now that she'd taken a minute to think, she knew.

"Lie down for me," she said.

"You sure?" Harry asked, understanding what she meant.

Y/n merely nodded before easing him down against the bed with a gentle hand to his chest. She held his face in her hand, looking down at him and admiring the face she'd loved forever. He probably had somewhere to be, and yet he was here. With her. She kissed his forehead, then worked her way down, down, down. To his nose and lips, to his jaw and the elegant slope of his neck, to his chest, where her stomach flipped when she felt it beating hard in his chest. She kissed his stomach and all the tattoos on his torso, each hip bone and the waistband of his black briefs, and the bulge in them that was becoming harder and harder to ignore. But she continued on, kissing his thighs and all around them, unable to stop herself from making one little mark in the sensitive flesh.

"Y/n."

Harry was patient, his pants and breathy groans encouraging. When Y/n had had enough, she dragged her nose all the way back up to his underwear and began to tug them down, easing him out of them and tossing them unceremoniously off the bed.

And then she continued kissing him, loving him the way she'd dreamed about late at night more times than she cared to admit. Her focus zeroed in on Harry, on the sole objective of his pleasure. Nothing else mattered more than making him feel better than anyone had ever made him feel. Y/n got lost in it—in the noises he made, and the feel of him in her mouth, and the dull graze of her nails on the insides of his thighs.

"Y/n."

Harry's voice sounded strained as his hand reached for her hair, his grip gentle but firm enough to get her attention. She almost didn't want to stop, but she eventually did, smiling sheepishly when she met his gaze.

"What?"

"I don't think I'm going to last, and I—I need to—"

"Oh." A blush stained her cheeks.

"So get over here. Please."

Y/n crawled over to him, but not before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She was about to awkwardly ask Harry if he wanted to be on top or not when he grabbed her chin a little harshly, pulling her lips down to his.

Every kiss until now had been slow, sensual, passionate but delicate. This one was bruising, toe-curling. Harry's tongue pushed its way into Y/n's mouth, his hand gripped firmly in her hair at the nape of her neck. She didn't even have the chance to whine or whimper, as he devoured each one in a kiss. His teeth dug into her lip, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, he pinched the inside of her thigh and soothed it over with his thumb. And all Y/n could think was that she wanted more.

"Promise me," she managed to get out. "Promise me you're mine." Y/n didn't think she could be with anyone else again knowing Harry made her feel this good. And she knew that part of it was because she loved him so much that enhanced every kiss, every touch of skin against skin.

"I'm yours," Harry promised, easing himself in. "I'm yours, Y/n."

He kept saying it. Over, and over, and over again. That first time, and the second and third that followed later into the night. He kept promising, like he knew she needed to hear it, needed to know that this wasn't going to be a fleeting moment.

And she said it back, mumbling into his shoulder as she clung to him, afterwards when they were just staring at each other because yes, they'd known each other forever, but they were something different. Harry was the boy she'd loved for as long as she could remember, but now he was the boy who loved her back.