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kenananamin · 1 year ago

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Baby please (negative, be positive)

Let me break our hearts for a bit. I think we’ve all seen the other side of this where Nanami is… very excited for the process of children, if you catch my drift lol but what about the other side? What about when there’s a large amount of negative tests followed by fertility issues, and the partner feels every single overwhelming emotion about their body and their struggle? Note: If you have struggled or are struggling with fertility, this may not be for you. I have other fluffier/cute/positive posts and so many great accounts have amazing stories, so take care of yourself and maybe read those instead. I’ll immediately follow this up with a cuter post <3 If you know anyone who may be struggling, be the help they may need and start by simply listening. I am aware from experiences with close family and friends that fertility issues do not always have a happy ending, but this fictional story will end as a hopeful one. If you decide to read this, thank you. If not, I’ll see you on the next post babes 🖤 Warnings and tags: nanami kento x fem!reader, fertility issues, sad, angst, comforting nanami, hopeful and happy ending ~3.0k words

You lay in bed in a fetal position in the darkness of your home. You curled your body as much as you could as you let the tears fall. You were tired of the loud sobbing and your body and throat could not handle another sob. But the tears did not stop. You felt a wet spot underneath your head and you shift your head forward to avoid the cold spot. When you finally think that the tears are running out, you hear Nanami’s car pulling into the driveway. You drag the bed throw to cover yourself and wipe the new tears. You weren’t scared of Nanami’s reaction, he had held and taken care of you after the past tests, but you were scared of any underlying disappointment.

“God, I’m trying. I’m trying, I’m trying,” you let out one last sob before Nanami enters the house.

You hear the key enter the lock and you quickly wipe your tears and cover most of your face with the blanket. You hear his every movement and you can almost see exactly what he’s doing as he moves around the house.

It was not uncommon for Nanami to come home to a dark house. He knew you were a napper and he actually enjoyed waking you up after making dinner. Something about your sleepy eyes while eating dinner and sighing after each delicious bite made his heart flutter. One of the smaller things you did that he absolutely adored. He turns on the hallway light and peeks into the bedroom to see you in bed in the dark. The house feels colder than usual so Nanami turns on the heater and heads into the room to put a thicker blanket on you. He rubs and kisses your hair before heading out and closing the bedroom door enough to only leave a sliver opened.

Nanami grabs extra clothes from the laundry room to change before heading to the kitchen to start dinner.

As Nanami quickly glances into the trash after throwing out veggie scraps, he notices the familiar blue box and the tips of two sticks peeking out. He feels his heart stop for a second, but reaches for a napkin before digging into the can to move the box to read it. Another pregnancy test. Nanami reaches for the test sticks and immediately sees one single line on the first and one bold ‘Not Pregnant’ on the second. His heart rate speeds up and he immediately wants to run to you but he’s reminded of your devastation the last time you got a negative. He had never seen you so upset and had to convince you to let him call your manager as your emergency contact to let them know you would be out for the next couple days. Nanami puts the sticks back and covers the tests and box with the napkin and vegetable scraps. He turns off the stove and washes his hands before heading back to the room.

Without the hallway light on, you could not tell if the door was fully opened or closed. You didn’t care either way, you just wanted to be in the dark and not face Nanami yet. You moved the blankets over your head again to return to your safe space. You begin to take slow deep breaths, slow inhale, slow exhale. Slow inhale, slow exhale. Slow inhale, slow exhale. It is not the quietest breathing exercise so you cannot hear Nanami slowly open the door and walk into the room. He sees the familiar sight, a bundle shaped like you with the blankets moving to the sound of your breathing. He softly puts a knee on the bed before crawling over to you. The movement on the bed stopped your breathing completely and you hoped, no -- you prayed, that you didn’t forget to cover the tests.

“My love,” Nanami says just above a whisper before softly wrapping himself around you, while making sure he does not burst your bubble within the safety of your blanket. He feels your body shudder once his arms are completely wrapped around you and gives you a moment to calm down. Once he feels your breathing even out again, he taps on the blanket and asks if he could come in. You loosen the grasp on the blanket and he slips underneath to hug you from behind.

You thought you had finally run out of tears, but feeling Nanami’s arms around you and his scent so close for the first time that evening, you felt them gather again. Thank the heavens that it was dark and he was not facing you because you felt your face contort in a terribly painful way followed by the loudest sobs to have ever left your body. Nanami pulls you in unbelievably close, as close as he would when your anxiety left you shaking and desperate. You start writhing in what feels like emotional agony and he pushes his entire body weight to your back, pinning you down. It was something he had learned to do after years of being together. You would jokingly call Nanami your human weighted blanket but you were thankful that he could detect when you needed to feel him.

“Two years, Ken, two fucking years,” you let out between sobs, “why can’t I do it, Ken? Why can’t I--” Your words cut short.

“Shh shh, no no no, baby, please. Not you, I’m sorry, please don’t think that. We can do it, there’s more we can do,” Nanami rubs your arms and kisses your neck and shoulders, “Please, I promise there’s more. It’s ok, it’ll be ok. We’ll be ok.”

Nanami wasn’t sure what he was saying, and to be honest, he knew he would say anything that could help you. But what would? He didn’t know what exactly to say after so many negatives. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly sure what you wanted to hear after so many negatives.

Time flew by underneath that blanket. Nanami had eventually moved the blanket down to let you breathe cool air after a layer of sweat covered you. He ran his fingers through your hair to try to cool you down and shushed and hummed against your skin while he still held you. You could feel your back and his front wet with both of your sweat and the spot underneath your head drenched with a much larger spot of your tears.

You don’t know what time it is and you don’t even have the energy to tilt your head up to look at the clock. All you know is that you have finally stopped sobbing and there really was nothing left inside you.

Nanami moves the hair from the nape of your neck and plants the softest kiss. “Let’s take a break.”

You turn in his arms, eyes wide and thinking, a break? From this… from us?

He could see the gears turning and panic in your eyes before hugging you again from your side and saying, “No no, baby not that break. Never. Never never, I promise. I mean from the tests. Let’s stop buying and taking any tests. Let’s toss any extra ones around the house, too.”

Your heart knew that Nanami adored you and would not leave you, but your foggy brain that was convincing you that you were not enough left you thinking he would leave. The thought lasted a second, but the panic was unbearable.

You shift to face Nanami and tightly hug him. So tight. He felt as if you were hugging him in fear of him running away. He knew of "men" that would leave their partners after fertility issues and he detested every single one of those disgusting beings that dared take space as a bag of bones roaming the earth. He could never leave you, especially for something nobody had any control of. He loved you, adored you, and with or without certain possibilities, he wanted to be there with you.

Nanami planned to see your crows feet and smile lines deepen. He wanted to retire as soon as you both could and travel to see everything together. He wanted to look at your joined hands and notice the sun spots and new wrinkles. He wanted to see your entire face wrinkle and your steps become slower. He wanted to dance with you in the middle of the kitchen and feel your heartbeat match his. He wanted it all and he needed to remind you, even if it wasn’t with words at that exact moment. Nanami hugs you back like he had before in response to your own bone-crunching embrace.

You feel defeated, but loved by the man that said ‘I do’ to you and promised everything for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, and in sickness and in health. You finally nod to his request.

———

You wake up early that morning with the driest throat and what feels like the world’s puffiest eyes. You look at the clock: 4:52am. Nanami is beside you, but you see he fell asleep in a sitting position against his pillows with his laptop on his lap. You feel a small towel beside your head and reach up to feel a folded cold towel. Nanami would always put a cold towel over your eyes if you fell asleep crying. The cold towel didn’t happen often, but it seemed like he always knew what to do even if he didn’t have the words to help at that moment. Your clothes had been changed to a large shirt that you had stolen from Nanami when you lived separately, but he let you keep.

You sit up to remove the laptop from his lap and gently lean him down to bed. As he’s shifting his body, the touch pad is slightly moved and his laptop is turned back on. You turn your head to avoid your sensitive eyes looking at the bright light and turn down the brightness. You look at the screen to decide if you should just close the laptop or shut it down. The tabs… the tabs surprise you and your heart breaks the more tabs you read.

How to deal with fertility issues

How to help sad wife

How to distract sad partner

What is egg retrieval surgery

Adoption process

Recommended income for adoption

Malaysian vacation homes for rent

Best time to vacation in Malaysia

Along with the searches, Nanami had a note opened with notes from every single tab.

The man sleeping next to you… loves you. You would do anything for him and he would scour the world and pick up brick by brick for an answer to any of your problems. You lean down to kiss his temple, “I love you, Kento. So fucking much.”

———

Seven months later, you get curious and tell Nanami to bring a test after work. He's hesitant and asks if it’s a good idea. After several months in therapy and extra doctor visits, you feel like you can handle any result. A negative would be like facing your biggest fear and you needed to overcome it.

Nanami rereads your texts the whole afternoon, and again when he’s at the pharmacy looking for the tests, and again when he’s in line to pay. He only hands you the small box after a big hug and deep kiss, and suggests you take it after dinner in fear of you not eating after seeing the result.

After a distracted dinner, you take the tests and leave them on the bathroom counter. You walk out the restroom and sit on the bed with Nanami. He wanted to be inside the restroom with you but despite being married and knowing each other’s secrets, that was one line you just could not cross. Your husband had no other option than to wait outside the door.

Nanami turns his whole body to you and reviews the exercises your therapist had given you both to work through the next result. You intently listen and follow his lead until the timer finally goes off. You both look at each other, scared for the next event but relieved to finally hear the beeping. You stand first and hold out your hand for Nanami.

You cover the test from afar as you close the gap and tell Nanami to count to three. One… two… three. You quickly move your hand to see the two tests.

You stare and stare, and Nanami’s eyes have never gone wider. You can see him looking back and forth frantically, waiting for your reaction. You screech, not yell or scream, a straight screech that could compare to the latest dinosaur feature film. Your hands cover half your face and sobs immediately break through. Nanami hugs you and picks you up from the floor.

“Ok ok ok, doctor, umm, we need to go to a doctor, ok? That's what he told us to do.” you nod frantically, still sobbing, and wrap your arms around your husband.

———

The doctor is happy to see you in his office for a different reason this time. He confirms the result with another test at the office and for the first time in a long while, the nurses lead you and Nanami to a room with a big ultrasound machine.

Nanami tightly holds your hand as the cold clear cream is spread on your tummy. There is no visible difference that you or Nanami could see but you were both very fucking nervous despite the home and doctor’s results. The doctor takes a second to spread the cream and look around. After what seems like an eternity, the doctor confirms that you are over halfway on your first trimester and points to the smallest blob on the screen.

Nanami’s legs give out and literally falls to the chair pulled for guests. His breath is heavy. He trusted the tests before, he really did believe those positives, but hearing it from the doctor's mouth in that room, seeing what was on the screen and where he knew you were in the best hands — his relief was unmatched. He had never felt such relief, happiness and an overwhelming sadness for what you had to go through.

He covers his mouth with one hand while he lets his tears fall for the first time in front of you since your wedding. His other hand still tightly holds your hand and he moves his forehead to touch the side of your stomach, where he knows the product of your love and effort will slowly start to make its home.

You lay on the chair with your arm folded on your face, crying loudly with the same relief and joy when Nanami stands back up and carefully moves your arm down to kiss your face. He starts at your temple and moves to your cheekbone, then nose, then eye, then forehead, other eye, lips, cheek, and temple again. He holds your head close to his chest and you wrap your remaining arm around him. After so many visits to this clinic, so many negatives and so many tears of sadness, you were finally able to cry for a completely different feeling.

You both lean to see the screen, the barely visible blob making you laugh but you lie your head back down and let yourself imagine a scene of a mini you and Nanami.

———

30 weeks, one 20 hour birth and an emergency C-section later, Kento holds your tiny girl. She had been rushed to the NICU shortly after the birth and you and Nanami were left scared in the OR. One of the nurses tells you that she is alright and they need to check her more since she was a preemie.

You wake up from a nap later that evening in your recovery room and see a shirtless Nanami holding your baby by the room window. He'd become so intrigued by the skin-to-skin contact benefits with a baby and promised himself he’d do anything for a closer bond with her.

Without him knowing you were awake and listening, you hear him tell the small bundle that is a sleeping baby girl, “b/n, you are so loved. We’re going to love you forever. I'm going to adore you for as long as I can and more.” He gently brushed her hair and continued, “I have so much to teach you, to show you. I love you, I'll give you everything, I promise." He lifted her and leaned down to kiss and stroke her cheeks, "my girl, my sweet girls — I'll do anything for you and mommy, I swear.”

You lean back smiling. Your body aches and the pain is incomparable to anything you’ve felt before, but you are happy. Whether it was in that hospital room as a new unit of three, or in your own living room relaxing with your husband alone, you would be happy.

Nanami turns around and sees you awake. He flashes the biggest smile and walks over to the bed with your sleeping newborn. “I love you, y/n.”

“Forever.”

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atinyrasberry · 6 months ago

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Hey hey! A few ideas for a oneshot with some of our mha boys with fem reader ♡

Todoroki's first crush. He's such an adorable dense sweetie I can't even 😚 while he's never been in a situation like this, I still feel like he'd be upfront with her about him feeling 'weird inside' and she'd basically have to tell him what love is

The manliest man, Kiri! Maybe helping him dye his hair with confessions?

Bakugo realizing he's in love with reader and not knowing how to deal with it. Kiri being best wingman ♡

THIS IS CUTE OK LET ME COOK‼️‼️ Kirishima does not get enough appreciation, so writing this made me really happy :). THANK YOU FIR REQUESTING, AND FEEL FREE TO ASK AGAIN, I LOVE YOU ANON!!

The room looked like a murder scene. Red dye was everywhere, splattered on the sink and bathroom tiles. Kirishima sat in between your legs on the bathroom floor, with you sitting on the tub putting the dye in his hair. You both forgot to use a dye brush, which resulted in you having to use your fingers. Massaging his scalp, you made sure the dye was applied evenly (maybe you just wanted to play with his hair 🤭). Kirishima sighed at the feeling of your hands running through his hair, leaning back into you and letting you take control.

"This is nice," He comments, reveling in your warm touch and soft humming. "I'm so glad I asked you for help, I could've never done this by myself," Kirishima chuckled.

"It's no problem, I enjoy moments like this, it relaxes me," You replied, making his heart skip a beat. You've always had a crush on Kirishima, so you jumped at the chance for alone time with him when he needed help with his hair.

Once you finished putting in the dye, you waited for a while, chatting on the bathroom floor and enjoying each others company. Once the dye was ready to wash, you put his head over the tub and helped him get it out. Drying his hair off with a towel, you realized how attractive he looked. Damp hair framing his face, a cute smile forming, staring at you with adoration. He loved that you were so focused on helping him out, his eyes moving to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You paused. What did he just say? He wants to kiss you??

"W- wait, what!? You want to kiss me?" you exclaimed in suprise.

"Yeah, you look so pretty focused on me. I just can't help but to want to kiss your pretty lips." He murmured, "I've liked you for a long time, but I haven't been manly enough to tell you, so I assumed was my best chance," Laughing nervously, Kirishima averts his eyes from you.

You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look back at you, and pressed your lips against his. Widening his eyes in shock, Kirishima lets out a little squeak in suprise. He eventually melts into you, bringing you closer to him and cupping your cheek.

"I really like you," He whispered, foreheads touching eachother, "and I want to be your boyfriend, if that's alright with you,"

"Of course it is," You replied, "I wouldn't be sitting here at 3 in the morning dying your hair if I didn't like you back, you moron," You joked, flicking his forehead.

Kirishima smiled, bringing you in for another kiss. He was positive that he was the luckiest man alive.

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pupkashi · 1 year ago

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scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

a/n: hi friends ! here is sweet and soft lil something about our favorite white haired sorcerer <33 thank u for the request and i hope u guys enjoy :3

wordcount: 1,547

masterlist

he stares at it every morning. when he pushes his hair back to fix it and put on his blindfold, when he wears a shirt that isn’t his Jujutsu uniform. his eyes seem drawn to the faint scars on his forehead, neck and chest.

they seem jagged and out of place compared to the rest of his smooth and perfect skin, serving as a reminder of his failures and losses.

“g’morning pretty boy,” you mumble, walking past him and sitting on the toilet, too asleep to notice the way satoru jumped, quickly letting his hair fall to cover the scar.

the pet name seems unfitting as his eyes move back to the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. “morning sweets” he finally answers, washing his face and grabbing his toothbrush.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, still as intuitive as ever when it came to your lover.

“‘m fine, just a bit stressed,” a tight lipped smile as he hands you the toothpaste. you don’t believe him, but you decide to hold off until at least after you’ve woken up a bit more.

you don’t say anything as the two of you continue to get ready, letting your gaze linger on satoru. there was nothing you could think of that could’ve made him upset so early

it’s a bit quiet as you both make your way into the living room, flowing easily as you two make breakfast, making each others coffee, with satoru carrying the plates to the table and you the coffees. (the last time he carried the coffees burned his hand and spilled both cups everywhere.)

and as he’s about to head out the door you’re pulling him by his collar, fixing it a bit and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. satoru melts into your touch, hands slipping around your waist and all worries being thrown out the window.

“have a good day angel boy,” you mumble, pressing on last kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“cant be that good if I’m not with you,” he pouts, not bothering to make a motion to leave, not until you’re forcing him out the door as he whines ‘just one more kiss!’

it’s anytime there’s a reflective surface, he’s stealing a glance, making sure his neck is covered. he’s so careful about it, wanting to keep his scars hidden, too ashamed to show them to the world.

“sensei is that a scar on your neck? that’s so cool how’d you get it?!” yuji’s voice is enthusiastic and his eyes are glimmering as he stares up at his teacher.

satoru physically tenses at the acknowledgment of the scar on his neck, quickl flashes of that day coming into his mind. geto, riko, where it all went wrong.

“just a nasty fight is all” he shrugs his shoulders, hoping the younger boy would drop the topic.

“but if you have infinity how’s that happen?” his brows furrowed as satoru tries to calm himself down.

“yuji come look! megumi found something!” nobara calls out, the pink haired boy rushing to her side as making their way to their other friend.

satoru’s hand unconsciously brushes over the raised skin, recalling how he’d tried so hard to get the skin back to normal, begging shoko to help him.

that afternoon he’s wearing a bigger sweater, letting his messy bangs fall over his forehead and trying his best to cover up his neck when he catches you staring at him.

“what?” he asks, a nervous smile on his lips. did you realize how ugly they were? were you finally done calling him pretty?

“nothin’ you just look so pretty” you sigh, smiling as you press a kiss to his cheek, hand reaching to push his bangs out of his eyes. satoru stops you immediately, his much larger hand wrapping around your wrist, eyes wide as he realized what he’d done.

“I’m sorry” he mumbles, hand shaking slightly as he lets go of you, rushing into the restroom and taking deep breaths. you were gonna hate him after that, you would realize how fucked up he was and you were gonna leave him and-

three soft knocks on the door pulls him from his thoughts, “angel boy? you okay?” you sounded worried, and he couldn’t help the tears filling his eyes.

“I’m sorry if i overstepped, i didn’t mean to” your voice smaller, satoru opened the door immediately, almost instantly pulling you into his arms.

“no you didn’t” a shaky breath leaving his lips as he debates on where to go from here. “it’s just, i don’t really like my scars,” he frowns, eyes averting your gaze.

you gently take his hand in yours, leading him back to the couch, watching as he tentatively fiddles with the hem of his sweater, pulling it off of him.

there’s a scar running from his neck down his chest, the skin raised ever so slightly. he shrinks as your eyes land on the skin, clenching his jaw when he lifts his bands and reveals the smaller scar on his forehead to you.

“they ruin everything,” he whispers, watching as your fingers ghost over the skin.

“may i?” you’re looking up at him, and he doesn’t know what the emotions swirling behind your eyes are, but he nods anyway. shivering when your fingers make contact with the skin, trailing down the entire length of it.

he jumps a bit when you place a feathery kiss to the top of the scar, he watches as you continue to kiss down his chest, following until the end of the scar. your hands feel cold compared to his now flushed skin, watching as you look up at him.

you don’t say anything as you cup his face in your hands, pressing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. “they don’t ruin anything, pretty boy,” your words laced with love.

“but-” he begins, the shake of your head cuts him off, the slight furrow of you brows is enough to have him stay quiet.

“no, i don’t wanna hear it,” you frown, “they don’t make you any less attractive, they don’t make you any less of my pretty boy,” the words comfort him in a way he never thought words could. the warmth blooming in his chest has his eyes watering slightly. “in a way they show how much you’ve grown, what you’ve learned and lost” you begin, your fingers intwined with his, grip tightening a bit.

“you don’t think they look, i don’t know, ugly or out of place?” he pouts, still not daring to look into your eyes.

“don’t be silly angel boy,” you grin, pushing his bangs out of his face, pressing a kiss on his forehead, atop his small scar, “nothing about you could ever be ugly, you’re the prettiest.”

his cheeks are dusted pink as a small giggle slips past his lips, finally meeting your gaze when you gently lift his chin with your index finger.

“but as much as i love you, you smell like sweat,” you scrunch your nose up, “so go shower,” laughing when his jaw drops, letting go of your hand and sniffing himself, scrunching his nose in agreement.

satoru doesn’t hesitate to wrap himself around you, smothering you in a hug, laughing loudly as you struggle to free yourself.

after his shower satoru’s eyes linger on his scars, the dewy mirror distorting his reflection slightly. for the first time since he can remember, satoru doesn’t think about that time when his eyes land on his scars, rather he thinks of the love of his life, the one who comforted him through it all, the one waiting for him now.

a small smile on his lips when you welcome him into bed, clinging to him as soon as he slips under the covers. you pull him close to you, peppering kisses along his jaw, then his cheeks and finally landing on his lips.

“you’re my pretty, angel boy,” you whisper, eyes staring into his cerulean ones, “i don’t want you to ever think otherwise,” pressing one last kiss to his lips before cuddling into his chest.

instead of flinching away, he lets you. he lets himself relax as your hand rests over the scar, only the thin fabric of his t shirt separating your fingers from grazing the skin. he relaxes into your touch, smiling when you press kisses to any open you see, whispering compliments into his ear, comments reserved for only him.

slowly satoru finds himself not even glancing at his scars in the mirror, he no longer tugs at his shirt collars, and he doesn’t dread staring at the mirror. he doesn’t sleep with a shirt anymore, and he walks around shirtless, a boost of confidence shooting through him when he catches you staring.

they no longer feel out of place or ugly. not as you kiss them, each press of your lips more filled with love and tenderness than the last. not as your fingers ghost over them, giggling when he flexed his abs under your touch. not when you accidentally let slip that you think he looks hotter with scars.

not when you’re there to kiss away any insecurities he has, to push away any doubts in his mind with a shower of compliments.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

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daydreams-after-dark · 8 days ago

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Free Use Jail Cell, Part 5

MDNI // 18+ content

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 1400 (part 5)

Chapter Summary: Aftercare and kindness from one of the officers.

A/n: This was supposed to be the double pen with the Aussies, but I felt it really important for our y/n to have a breather after that sesh with Jeongin. I promise next chapter it will be them.

CW: aftercare, introspection, shame, comfort.

You lay on the wet, cold tiles alone, and begin to sob. What had just taken place was intense and now your body is shaking. You can’t make sense of it. You enjoyed what Jeongin did to you, but maybe your body couldn’t handle it?

A little voice inside you says there must be something wrong with you if that’s the kind of interaction you craved.

You pull your knees to your chest and will yourself to start counting, just like you were instructed.

One… two… three…

You’re so fucking sick.

What’s wrong with you?

Four… five… six.

Freak! You’re a freak!

You try to ignore the voice in your head.

You barely get to the count of ten before the bathroom door violently opens. You look up, startled, to find Officer Minho holding a towel and large, thick blanket staring at you with concern.

He puts them down by the sink and immediately comes to crouch down in front of you.

“You can stop counting now.” He whispers, reaching out to push the wet strands of hair out of your face.

“Look at me.” He tilts your head up so you can’t do anything but look him in the eye. His expression held a tenderness, much like when he carefully took you to your cell earlier.

“Fuck. You should have used your safe word, not just the colour system.” He clicks his tongue and stands, helping you to your feet. “Let’s wash you properly and get you warm.”

You know you’re out of it when you can barely stand, but Minho supports you carefully with strong arms. He washes you too, gently, all the while his clothes become more and more drenched.

”Turn around, I need to wash your back.” He says. You allow him to turn you to face the wall while he soaps up your back. You’re not sure what he must be thinking, but you don’t want him getting the wrong idea about his - you’re not sure what they are to each other. Friend? Colleague?

”I wanted it.” You whisper ashamedly. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” You’re met with a grunt and silence.

”How did you know I was here?” You ask.

”Jeongin came and got me straight away.” He replied. “We’re not really going to leave you without aftercare. We’re not that bad.” He scoffs at the last part of the sentence, as though he doesn’t quite believe himself.

He shuts off the water and dries you down with the towel. Neither of you say anything, despite the fact you have so many questions. He is intriguing to you, and, for some reason, you feel safest with him.

Sure Officer Han and Hyunjin seem safe and kind, but Minho? He feels protective, considerate. Even if he did do those extreme things to you in the interrogation room.

After he deems you dry enough, he wraps the thick blanket around you.

”Are we going straight to the Chief and-“

”You’re not in any state to go there yet. You’re going to rest.” He decides, and leads you back towards your cell.

But that’s not where he’s taking you. You realize you’re headed to the interrogation rooms. Your heart picks up a gear, and you wonder if you’re in for a surprise scenario? Maybe Minho wants another turn of you? The thought makes you feel nervous in your stomach, but not in a fearful way. Oh god, you’re not feeling feelings are you?

Officer Minho opens the door to an interrogation room, and it can’t be any more different from the one you were in earlier. This one has painted walls, fresh, clean linoleum flooring, and a warm glow coming from the lamps around the room. A desk stands where the metal slab of a table was in the other room, and a couch on the far wall.

“Come, sit. Rest.” Minho instructs, gesturing to the couch.

You do as you’re told, and sit on the couch, tucking your legs up and snuggling into the blanket.

Minho sits next to you, picking up a book from a side table and begins to read.

You’re not sure what to do. He obviously doesn’t want to chat, or fuck, so you decide to close your eyes and rest just like he suggested.

You would love to ask him why he does this for a job, or even something as little as what his favorite food, or movie is. But you don’t. You’re far more tired than you thought, drifting off quickly.

You’re not sure how long you’d been asleep for when a soft knock at the door has you stirring, and you open an eye to watch Han enter the room with coffee cups. You let your eyes close again, listening to their conversation.

“Looks like Jeongin really gave it to her?” He whispers in a shocked tone.

“She’s fine. Just needs to rest. From what Jeongin said, she used the color code orange, then requested he use the real knife.”

Han let out a low whistle. “No wonder she needed to hire us if this is what her fantasies entail.” He pauses. “She looks so pretty when she’s asleep.” He coos.

“Absolutely not.” Minho says sternly.

“But,” he whines. “She was really into it before.”

“We’re not on the clock. She needs rest, and besides, you will get another chance tomorrow.”

“Ugh! I had to share her before, and tomorrow I’ll have to share her with everyone.” You can’t see him but you can tell by his tone he’s pouting.

“Ya! I had to share too, remember.” He growls.

Their bickering is oddly comforting, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep again, dreaming of Minho taking you out for a meal and talking about normal, everyday things.

————-

You wake to the smell of coffee and a cooked breakfast, although you’re not sure whether it’s really morning or not. You lost track of time long ago.

“Here, y/n. Eat.” Minho hands you a plate of eggs, toast and sausages. “You’ll need your strength for your final two encounters.”

You take the plate, smiling at the man who looks like he hasn't slept a wink. Was he watching over you?

He perches himself on the edge of the desk and watches you take a bite of toast.

“What made you sign up for… this?” He asks curiously.

You hesitate. “Well…” you set the slice of toast down on the plate. “ Oh god can you really share this? “It’s just…I’ve got these really intense fantasies. I don’t know why. I don’t know where they came from.” Tears begian to form in your eyes. “I guess I’m just some sick freak or something.”

You can’t hold back the tears and they spill down your cheeks and Minho is by your side in a heartbeat.

“Hey, hey… shh.” He pulls your hands away from where you’re trying to hide your face. “Listen to me. You’re absolutely not a sick freak. Who the fuck made you believe that?”

It was all your previous partners. Their words ring in your head.

You’re too much.

Why would you want me to do that?

What’s wrong with you?

Every single one of them made you think there's something wrong with you. You tried to make the fantasies go away. You really did. But they wouldn’t. You couldn’t shake them. You tried to be satisfied with “regular” sex, and yes, that was enjoyable to a point. But you craved more.

“Why do you do this job?” You meet his eyes. He hesitates, eyes blinking rapidly. Maybe no one has ever asked him this?

“Because I have intense fantasies too.” He leans back on the couch. “I think all of us here do. I think all of us have felt different, or like as you said, a “freak”, but we’re not. None of us, including you, are freaks. As long as boundaries and rules are established, it’s perfectly fine.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “You’re the first person to make me feel like I’m normal.” You whisper.

He leans forward and wipes the last of your tears away, and you feel a tug in your chest. His eyes catch your lips, and there’s a flicker of want in his expression. Then you remember he doesn’t do “kissing on the lips”. Then why does he look like he wants to?

A silence hangs in the air, but the moment is lost when there’s a knock at the door.

“It’s time.” Minho whispers.

————-

a/n: Okay, so I am not sure what happened, but Minho! He snuck in and made y/n's heart skip a beat.... and I feel like maybe his did too.

Next up: really, we will have Felix and Channie!

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@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @lunearta @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @galaxycatdrawz @melochacco @jiwoos-babygirl @kavifornia @chuuyaobsessed @iadorethemskz @hyun-hwanj @courtnort455 @brimarie0512 @dwaekkicidal @kibs-and-bits @txa-r @minh0scat @the-sweet-rose @chrizzztopherbang @velvetmoonlght @youcanstayyeah @skzswife @stephanieeeyang @withnia @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ihrtlino

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @melochacco

#skz smut #skz ot8 x reader #sorshas fic #ot8 free use jail cell

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ghostbustting · 4 months ago

Note

Soo

you haven't seen Jason in a while and you get back home and he is super needy and .... 😉

this turned out a little bit fluff-toned than first intended, but I hope you enjoy it !! (Also, I misread "you get back home" to "HE get back home" so idk if this is different than what you meant 😭)

╰┈➤“𝑼𝑵𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫„ ๋࣭⭑

80s!Jason Newsted x Reader

Contains Smut

Drinking from my cup of lemon tea, I rub my tired eyes before slowly turning to the wall clock, I had to squint my eyes before realizing that the clock was showing that it is currently 2 in the morning. I sigh and lean back, running a hand through my messy hair, trying to untangle them with my fingers.

It’s been a couple months since I’ve seen Jason, loneliness always came to consume me at these times. I can’t help but miss him, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen his sweet smiles, run my hand through those dark brown curls of his, kiss his soft lips. Calls just aren’t enough anymore.

He’s been touring with the band he got in as a bassist, Metallica. Just last night he was supposed to come home from the tour, only to find out the bus got delayed mid-trip.

A feeling of worry washes over me, my body became restless on the bed, tossing from left to right— yet not a single position in that bed felt right to me, not a body to hold onto, no Jason to love and care for. My mind tries to avoid the negative thoughts of what can possibly happen to him.

Hence, I decided to make a hot cup of lemon tea to accompany me on my never ending overthinking insomnia nights. My hands just fiddling with the glass, sighing with boredom and a feeling of uneasiness.

A couple nights he had spent calling up on me to give me an update, rambling almost for 3 hours whenever he got the chance, sometimes even venting to me about how the bond between him and the three other members are going, saying he felt bad that they were still not over their last bassist’s tragic death and how they seem to take it out on him.

Through his voice alone, I can tell he was slightly pressured by it.

Another sigh leave my lips as I place my hand on the glass again and slowly lift it up, placing my lips on it before the warm comforting lemon tea slips through my lips and slides down my throat. With an empty cup now, I place it down and rest my arms on the table.

My mind was empty, I couldn’t tell if the insomnia was worse or the boredom was as I slowly lay my head in my arms and close my eyes, trying at the very least to sleep.

That’s when I hear a loud sound of a car engine pulling up in front of the house. I lift my head up and sigh. For fuck’s sakes, who in the actual hell decided to show up at this hour? Can’t a woman have a peaceful time?

I raise my eyebrow in confusion and curiosity as I slowly stand up and lazily make my way towards the window.

Peeking through the curtains, all the tiredness in my eyes instantly evaporated into thin air when I saw who it actually was; Jason walking down the driveway, his suitcase in his hand while his long curly hair bounces with each steps he takes closer to the door of our house, his presence finally real and not just a figment of my ‘missing my boyfriend’ imaginations.

Excitement takes over my whole being like a sugar rush that I immediately rushed to open the front door before he can even step a single toe on the doorstep. I open the door and ran straight out into the driveway with literal bare feet.

I can see the surprise in Jason’s face when he saw me run towards him and literally jumped onto him, “Jason! Jason!” I squealed and hugged him tightly, smiling so wide that my cheeks hurt. I hear him laugh before he let go of his suitcase and hug me back, “Miss me, pretty face?” He teased and kiss my cheek.

“Shut up!” I giggle softly and grab onto his face so I can press his lips onto mine.

With his lips pressed right against mine, I can feel how they curve up a little in a small cute grin as he slowly wrap his arms around me, “Jump.” He mumble against my lips and I do as he say, jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist.

He pull back with that same grin and kiss the tip of my nose, “God, I want you.” He mutter and quickly grab his suitcase with his other hand and rushed us into the house.

Laughter escapes past my lips as the moment we reach our shared bedroom, he abandoned his suitcase away into the corner of the room without a care and sit down on the bed with me still being carried by him, pulling me onto his lap as his eyes look up at me with desire.

His lips were attached onto every skin on my neck that he can reach, the absolute need in him was visible by the way his hands wont stop groping every part of me, hugging me close to him.

“You have.. no idea.. just how much I need you.. it’s unbearable..” He spoke between kisses, his voice soft and with a small whine as I feel his nose nuzzling into my neck, taking a sniff of my scent.

With a small chuckle, I stroke his hair gently, pulling his bangs back in order to peck his forehead sweetly, “It’s 2 AM, jase..” I say with a soft smile, my voice slightly playful and teasing as I stare down at the needy boy holding me tightly like I’m some precious jewel.

Shaking his head, I feel his hand travel to my shirt, slowly lifting the fabric up, “I don’t fucking care..” He grumbled and lift the shirt up over my head, his eyes immediately roaming all around the new revealed skin of my torso as his hands move again, now to unclasp my bra. “How are you so fucking beautiful?” He mumble, hands now on my chest.

My smile stays on my face, amused and flattered by how much love he put in his actions, how focused he is in times like this, how much love he makes me feel, sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve to be loved this much by a man like him.

“Your love made me beautiful.” I whisper sweetly, my hand reaching up to gently caress his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter close from the feeling, a small smile tugging on his lips. I lean down and press my lips against his.

His lips willingly and desperately kissed back, his lips moving much more rougher than the kiss my own lips offered. But just by his kisses alone, I can already feel how much love he puts into it. The faint taste of Barolo wine on his tongue mixes with my own taste of lemon tea.

Small moans leave my throat when I feel one of his hands kneading my breast, the other one one my hip instead and guides me to grind on the tent on display on his pants.

Unable to hold back any longer, my hands reached down and meet his belt. I unbuckle it and discard it to somewhere in the room with such speed as if there’s no tomorrow, but really I was just a girl that missed the feeling of having her boyfriend’s length buried so deep in her.

And judging by how needy he is, he definitely missed the feeling of my warm cunt hugging his length too.

Slowly, I took the waistline of his jeans along with his boxers and pull down both of them at once. I pull them all the way down till he can kick it off him, his cock now standing proudly between us, red at the tip with precum slowly coming out in beads. He place his head on my shoulder and groan softly, feeling the cold air greets his cock.

“Will you let me fuck you tonight, angel?”

Yet after going as far as both of us being half naked now, he still asked for permission to fuck me. Usually, he’d just grab me and fill me with his seed without even allowing me to say a word. But the way he was so needy yet considerate tonight warms my heart, he just knew how to make me feel wanted.

I nod and smile, “Yes..” I slowly take off my pants along with my panties, throwing them away behind me to god knows where.

His eyes looked so mesmerized by the sight of my fully naked body as if he haven’t seen me like this before. Or perhaps it was because of the fact that we’ve been separated for months now. Nevertheless, the way he looked so deeply into my eyes at times like this will never fail to make me blush.

With the help of his hand on my hip, I slowly lift my hips up and hold his cock in my other hand, the tip pressing right against my fold. Slowly and little by little, I sink down onto his length, a gasp of pleasure leaving my lips while a needy grunt leaves Jason’s.

“Fuck I missed this so bad..” He whisper with a sigh as he guided me to grind and move up and down his shaft, the slickness from my pussy and his precum making my movement sloppy. “You feel so good.. as always..” He praises, fingers moving my hair out of my face so he can flower my face with his sweet kisses.

My eyebrows were furrowed while I try to keep up with my own hips’ movement, trying to please him and myself as bets as I can. “Ahn.. Jason..”

Jason holds my back and pull me into his chest, kissing my hair. “Mmm.. that’s it.. treating me so well, angel..” His soft praises never failed to make my cheeks turn red and get fluster as much as his dirty words can make me weak in the knees.

He then paused my movement, holding me by my ass cheeks up in the air in his hands, then.. he starts thrusting up into me in a fast and hard speed, giving me just the most perfect pleasuring feeling ever. I gasp and hold onto his back, my nails clawing at his shirt.

The way he thrusted into me was so powerful, making my eyes roll to the back of my head while I try to keep up with my breaths.

It made me realize just how much I miss feeling him. Just how much I long for him even within a few months of being parted away from him. Just how much I need him. Just how much I love this man under me.

“Jason..” I gasped out, each time his cock enters me, a moan leave my lips, preventing me from speaking clearly. “I..” I took deep breaths before finishing my words. “I love you..” And at last, my full sentence slips out in a loving voice while still being fucked hard by him.

He was a groaning mess, his thrusts never missing a beat. “I love you too, angel.. Love you.. more than you could imagine..” He managed out before letting out another strong groan, “Fuck! I’m close..” He whined, grabbing my face and kissing me once again.

He was a kisser. It’s no doubt. Each chances he got, he took his kisses.

My eyes widened when I suddenly feel his thumb rubbing my clit in a harsh circles, “Finish with me..? Please..?” He spoke.

The neediness in him tonight is so alluring. Never in my whole life have I ever want to hold a man tightly and kiss him hard till all the breath he have are taken away this much.

“Y-yes..” I whimper out.

Not long after, his hips movement starts to falter as he stops moving and just push me down onto his cock, feeling that one last pressure before we both release at the same time, creating a dirty melody with the noises we let out.

I can feel his once hard cock slowly soften in me as his release mixed with mine and drips down from where we are still connected and onto the sheets that have became a victim of our love making once too many times.

As I try to relax again, he lay down on the bed and took me with him in his arms, once again kissing me all over my hair while I shift into a more comfortable position, head on his chest. “I love your shampoo, you know that?” He say with a stupid smile.

I smile and hum softly, “You love everything about me.”

“And I guess that’s why they say women’s always right.” He spoke with a chuckle, hugging me even closer to him.

Whatever this is, whatever is connecting him to me in this unbreakable bond that’s full of love and care and absolute uncontrollable need.. I never ever want this to end.

#jason newsted #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted smut #jason newsted fanfic #metallica smut #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #james hetfield smut #fluff #fanfic #metallica fluff #smut #fanfiction #band fic

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wangxianficfinder · 2 months ago

Text

Fic Finder

Aug 29th

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1. hello! i’ve been looking for a fic that involves an OC (i think?) that acts as a beard for nie huaisang. it was wangxian centric but that’s the main detail i remember. thank you!

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) has NHS getting himself engaged to a female OC that he has no romantic interest in (& vice versa - she's a lesbian) because she has useful skills

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2. hi! Do you recall a fic where wwx was like an omega courtesan in a school who was bought by lxc for lwj. Mianmian was also there with him too for a bit. I remember a scene where lwj got mad at wwx for wanting to wash him. They fall in love eventually. If you could find this fic I'd be grateful! 🙏

FOUND! Rattling our cages by danegen (E, 69k, wangxian, A/B/O, but like polite, Slow Burn, Pining while fucking, so much hair combing, WWX has a vagina, POV WWX, no yin iron or wars or plot really, Canon Era, spiders–see the notes, Spanish Translation Available)

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3. Hello! Thank you for all the work that you all do <3

I've been trying to look for a fic for some time now. I think it had wangxian pretty much adopting a little girl. Like the girl is an orphan and just keeps clinging to wx and being super sticky and I think there was a plot in her backstory dealing with resentment. Wwx knew abt it but lwj did not figure it out until later i think. This girl just accompanied them on some nighthunt or smth. The story has the Lan take in orphans due to reasons(tm) and the girl was one of them.

FOUND! the low sky, raining over by chibilwj (thelogicoftaste) (M, 37k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Kid Fic)

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4. Hi. I have a fic to find. In this fic, instead of Yanli dying at Nightless City, Lan Zhan gets critically injured and it sends Wei Wuxian into a spiral. Lan Xichen is very angry at him and will not let him anywhere near his body.

Thank you for your help.

FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, YL WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

FOUND? 🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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5. hi this is for fic finder!! i’m looking for a fic where wangxian leave the cultivation world for a while with lan sizhui and only come back accidentally. i’m pretty sure everyone else thinks they’re dead and they might have been residing with baoshan sanren in her mountain. thank you!

FOUND? If It's Too Hard To Forgive by Machevalli (M, 94k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Mpreg)

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6. Hello! I'm looking for a WangXian fic, they were both dragon shapeshifters, but they met each other in their dragon forms. They both assumed that the other was a regular dragon and both made the decision to commit to the relationship and live out their lives as dragons from now on. I think only when JYL visited and WWX turned human for her, LWJ realized that he was a shifter too. It might have been a twitter thread fic. Thank you so much for your help!!

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7. Looking for an arranged marriage au for wangxian. Yiling laozu wwx, he and lz don't know each other and lz is initially worried cause of wwx reputation. Wwx does the marriage, but doesn't immediately trust lz cause he could be a spy/sent to hurt wwx etc. Specifically there was a scene where people came and attacked wwx's household, I think wwx was away. Everyone hid in the cellars only to realize a-yuan was missing. Lz goes after him and saves a-yuan from being harmed but gets badly hurt.

This leads wwx to realize he can trust lz. Wwx may have taken lz's sword away before the attack cause of a misunderstanding and lz fought to protect everyone any way. And I think another scene lz comes out in his night clothes and yells at a group of cultivators who had come to rescue lz cause they thought something happened to him and lz is like why r yall breaking into my house in the middle of the night and the cultivators (lxc might have been with them) were like this is awkward.

but mebbe I just made it up/misremembered or accidentally combined things?

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? Caught Between Sun and Shadows by Alliandra (E, 71k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, grapshic depictions of violence, sunshot campaign, arranged marriage, YLLZ WWX, pining, battle husbands, versatile wangxian, falling in love, resentacles, sex pollen, fuck or die, golden core reveal, politics, hurt/comfort) also sounds like

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8. Fic finder? I'm suspecting it has been deleted but I need to try. It's a fanfic where wwx attempts s*ic*de (suicide) and jc finds him in the bathroom. He calls 911, he's hospitalized and all of that. Please help me 🥲🥲

FOUND! 总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

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9. a modern AU where LWJ and WWX reconnected at a party when Su She was hitting in LWJ, takes place in grad school and WWX doesn’t know they were dating until the end when they visit LWJ’s uncle’s cottage

thank you so much for your help!! @anonionsodelicious

FOUND? without your new eyes by anaphoricae (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Didn’t Know They Were Dating, Sexuality Discovery, Self-Discovery, Literal Sleeping Together, (there is so much sleeping in this fic), mentions of WWX/others and LWJ/others, Drunk LWJ, Teacher LWJ, WWX is a… throws dart… computer scientist, No Angst, Jealous WWX, Flirty WWX, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, WWX’s Love Language is Physical Touch, Guess what: even more non-sexual sleeping together, the plot of the fic is just… co-sleeping, call it the Nap Fic ™, Podfic Available, WWX isn’t so much 'oblivious’ as he is wilfully blocking some feelings subconsciously, WWX 'idk how I feel’ to 'I’m gonna marry him’ pipeline)

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10. Hi im looking for a specific fic. The fic was on ao3 and was a modern au where Wei Ying realizes he might be a bit gay and kisses lan zhan but then freaks out, and they get a bit awkward. He then goes on to forums to see what others might think of his situation, he tries watching gay porn etc. and finds that he's dreaming of lan zhan. He ends up being jumped by homophobes goes on a drinking binge for the next few days as a result and hears that lan zhan has been staying in his room and hasn't been doing well, wei ying thinks it's because he kissed him but later finds out he sent lan zhan a homophobic message when drunk. Any help would be appreciated!!! @livesformitski

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11. Hello! I was hoping you can help me track this fic down!

In the fic Lan Zhan finds out about Wei Yings golden core and he schemes to get it back with Wen Qing no matter what. I think it was a dark lan Zhan fic?

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12. For FF, I am once again asking for wlw wangxian fics. There’s a specific one I can’t seem to find, wherein Lwj and wwx are roommates, and wwx is planning on moving out to mm’s bc she constantly hears lwj hooking up in her room, but there’s an issue at the new place or something so she keeps putting off moving out until eventually she’s convinced to stay when they get together

I’ve tried digging through tags but it’s giving me issues, I would appreciate you forever if you find it🙏🙏🙏

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13. Hi I'm looking for this wangxian fic but can't find it anywhere, I don't remember a lot but all I remember is lan wangji getting his lashes punishment and wei wuxian (who is alive) turning up getting angry and destroying all the clans. Yanli (also alive) - and I think zixuan- was like ' well what do you all expect, you've all brought this on yourselves'

Sorry I can't remember much else,

Thank you ☺️ @haseenaay99

FOUND? An arrow to the heart by IsilmeLasgalen (T, 47k, WangXian, SongXiao, XuanLi, ZhuiYi, LQY/NMJ, XiSang, A-qing/OYZZ, BSSR/LY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, WWX Lives, BAMF JYL, Protective WWX, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Married WangXian Have Children, JGS "falls" down the stairs, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, Protective WN, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Multiple, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics)

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14. I'm looking for a Modern AU crack-fic-ish from Jiang Cheng's POV (I think?) where Wei Ying seems obliviously in a relationship, and later married, to Lan Zhan. It's also implied that maybe they're just trolling Jiang Cheng. @hiperfyxation

FOUND? Six in one hand by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Crack Treated Seriously, Compulsory Heterosexuality, POV JC)

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15. Hi i need help looking for a fic. I don’t remember much but it was a sort of time travel fic where wei wuxian goes back in time. I think there was a scene during the sun shot campaign where wangxian confess? I remember lan wangji being jealous of his future/ alternate self who is wwx’s husband

I’m so sorry I don’t remember more but please help me find this fic 🥹

FOUND! 🔒 if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect) i think its - chapter 26

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16. Hi, this is for a fic finder. I’m looking for a fic where WWX is a Wen. When Lans were attacked, LWJ, LSJ and LJY were taken to Qishan but were taken under WWX’s wings and they were taken care of. It was lan sect bashing and LQR bashing. LWJ did not return to Lans. I just remember that towards the end of the fic, there was a scene where WWX asked his spies from each sect to come out and MXY came out from Jiang, XY came out from Nie and MY was from Jin. I thought I’ve bookmarked it but could find it. I also have checked Wen WWX compilations and War Prize LWZ compilations. Did not find in either list. I’d appreciate if anyone know the name! Thank you!

FOUND? To the Heavens and the Earth by IsilmeLasgalen (E, 77k, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, POV LWJ, Good Parent LWJ, Marriage of Convenience, Accidental Marriage, Implied Mpreg, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, CSSR and WCZ Live BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, POV NHS, Protective LJY, Good Person WRH, Protective LXC, Immortal LWJ and WWX, POV LXC, Mpreg, WangXian in Love, Soft WangXian, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, POV JZX, Emperor WWX, Emperor LWJ, Past WWX/Other(s), Everybody Lives, Fluff, Angst, Smut, LWJ is LJY's Parent)

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17. Hi! I'm trying to find a fic where lej continuously aaja to play cleansing fir wwc but he keeps reusing cuz resentful energy is the only thing holding his body together but the eventually agrees and then almost dies but wen qung is there and then the course reveal happens and it angsty and wwc thinks lans wouldn't have cared if he told them cheating him if resentment could possibly kill him, thanku!

FOUND? 🧡 decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

18. Hello, this is a fic finder ask:

I’m not sure of the entire plot the the fic but I remember Meng Yao getting caught and being slapped by SiSi in front of the other sect leaders because of what he tried to do knowing his mom’s upbringing. He tries to play it off but he gets imprisoned in a Lanling Tower and isn’t allowed to use anything with strings because of what he did to Nie Mingjue.

~*~

19. hi, I have a finder fic ask, well two actually:

A. jin guangshan tries to assault yanli but he is stopped but there’s a plot twist because yanli knew it would happen because jin guangshan has a special garden when he does that to people and she is maybe a time traveler so she sets him up to be caught

B. WWX has died and there’s a celebration happening and there’s this special guest that will be there, possibly called The Painter, and when they get there the guest actually sings the story of how the different sects are hypocrites and the guest curses all of them except Lan Wangji and when the guest goes to leave, they lift up their veil and reveal themselves to be baoshan sanren.

~*~

20. Hi!!! I hope you're doing well. Please help me find this fic. It's a modern setting one, where I think WWX is sending LWJ suggestive pictures and videos of himself, and LWJ just doesn't know who it is. I think WWX is some kind of IT or something. I came across this fic on Twitter/X in a promotional of the AO3 fic, but I can't find it anymore. I forgot the parts of the fic but I know there's pictures and chat logs inserted in the fic. Please help me and thank you so much!!!

FOUND? might be this thread (unrolled because I don't have twitter)

also on ao3 its called + xx xxx xxx xxxx by 3neetee (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Shameless Smut, PWP, Dom/sub, Stalker WWX, Manipulative LWJ, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Rimming, Spanking, Spit Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Identity Porn, Explicit/NSFW Pictures, Twitter threadfic, Semi-Public Sex, freak4freak wangxian)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

Note

First I wanna say I absolutely adore your writing! <3

I was wondering if you could write a Daemon x Reader where the reader is a noble Northern lady who is like a shieldmaiden and they fight together at Stepstones. They kind of become friends and the reader constantly teases Daemon about how he has never seen anything about life in his Prince-ly upbringing and she knows more than him even though he is older (though it is the start of the battle of stepstones so he is canonically like 25 but still he is like 3-4 years older than her). But then while they are talking and drinking she accidentally blurts out that she is still a maiden and now it is time for Daemon to tease her. Then boom, smut happens.

Mine For The Night

"It's not something to fuss over, really," Daemon mutters, thumb on my lips, breath laced with wine, "and wouldn't it better I take your maidenhead than some old man you'll never desire?"

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, mentions/depictions of drinking/drunkenness, smut (drunk sex, loss of virginity, piv, breeding kink, choking, scratching, biting?), sleazy!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: rah its been a while since a daemon req so lemme crack this egg

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa

The onlooking crowd cheers when I dodge the man who charged into me. The bumbling brute batters into a table of men who aren't fortunate enough to be as quick as I am. The collision is heavy and loud. The ruffian, who was dim enough to pick a fight with me, spills all the drinks on the table on impact. It inspires the sat men to stand and to hurtle him against the wall, where he then passes out.

Daemon watches this play out with the rest of the patrons in the tavern, arms crossed, chest buzzing in amusement.

"That'll teach ya to mind yer manners," a man from our company barks before sharing a laugh with the rest of the men.

My inebriety is washed off with my exhaustion. I wobble back to my table, glaring at the men there, "you lot could stand to help?"

Daemon chuckles, but someone else answers, "well, our lady proved the point beautifully."

I roll my eyes, "men are good for nothing," I grab my things and head out of the tavern.

"Oh, don't be like that, lady love!" one of the men call, "I'm sure one of us can show you how good it can be to have a man!"

They share a laugh with each other and I roll my eyes.

The moment, I'm outside, I burp and head back to our camp. I whip my head to the side when I realize someone came outside with me.

"The slurs of drunken cunts," Daemon grins, walking beside me with his hands behind his back.

I shake my head and keep walking, "you're a cunt yourself, since you sat and watched."

"There's something rather bewitching seeing you get covered in ale and blood," he mutters through a lopsided smile.

"Mmm, I pray you be bewitched all the way back to your tent and leave me be," I glare at him before walking faster.

He makes a tutting sound and grabs my arm, preventing me from moving any father. The prince shakes his head and brushes his hand down my shoulder, "my drunken fool has forgotten her promise to me."

I scowl at him, "who are you calling fool?" I shove him back. It doesn't work very effectively. Curses. I hiss, "I made no promise to you. Unhand me."

Daemon chuckles, both his hands now on my arms, "ah, you're right. Twas I that promised you this," he rubs his hands up to my temples and swipes his thumbs on my brows, "the head of our enemy's dimwitted commander for a night you'd not forget."

My breath catches in my throat when the silver haired man leans closer. He mutters, "or did you think my words on the battlefield were weightless, Northern girl?"

"I am not interested in your words, nor doing such lascivious things with you," I push him off by his chest.

Daemon lets me walk away, and he laughs as I do so. "I did not think your memory would be so poor after such cheap wine touched your lips."

I hear him follow after me.

"Shall I recite how you confessed your desires to bed a man before you died?"

"And I am alive, am I not?"

"You'll only truly, once you've had me throw your legs over my shoulders and-"

"WHATEVER I SPOKE TO YOU-" I snap, turning around and pointing a finger at him, "about my sinful desires-"

Daemon chuckles.

"-in moments of weakness, be it when I was drunk or desperate in the middle of a fight, do away with it, devil."

He laughs louder at that.

"I have no intention of sullying myself, all because you-"

"My," he drags out and yanks be by the arm, "my lady is acting suddenly so ladylike."

I narrow my eyes at him, "I have always been ladylike because I am a lady!" I wrangle out of my his grip.

I whine when he grips my shoulders tightly. My stomach drops at the way he whispers in his mother tongue against my ear. Though I do not know what he says, I renders me frozen in my spot.

The prince relishes in this. His hands find my cheeks again. He leans in close, so close I can smell what he had been drinking. "It's not something to fuss over, really," Daemon mutters, thumb on my lips, breath laced with wine, "and wouldn't it better I take your maidenhead than some old man you'll never desire?"

Whatever I flaring retort I had is put out by the moistness of his lips.

I had never been kissed before. The sensation makes my insides roll and it's surprisingly so pleasant to be kissed by such a man as Daemon.

He chuckles, "oh, apologies," he brushes my hair back, "wasn't your maidenhood already broken ages ago on the account of your horseback riding?"

My heart races when his one hand slips into my clothes, on to my bare chest. His other hand comes to my waist. He sighs contentedly when I do not repel him after pulling me close to kiss me once more. I actually kiss him back this time.

"No one's gonna know," he mutters, "just us and the gods."

We're a mess of heavy breathing when we reach my tent. Daemon wastes no time in ripping me out of my clothing. It doesn't take long for it to be just him and I in a sea of discarded fabrics.

My skin reaches out to him with goosebumps when his hot huffs hit my neck. My movements are intrinsic; I reach out to him just as he kneads my body. His hips nestle between my bare thighs. A whine escapes me when he begins to rub against me.

"Relax," he mutters, "it won't hurt. You'll enjoy it."

I sigh as he begins to trail kisses down my neck. I slowly feel myself melt into his touch. He continues meshing his hips into mine until a tingle builds in my belly and my toes curl in response. I feel a slickness build between my thighs. I claw my nails into his back and he hisses in response. My legs tighten around him. He groans, muttering something in his native tongue.

I gasp when he tugs me by my hair and speaks hotly against my ear, "you're making it hard for me to be gentle with you."

I claim his lips with my teeth, making him groan. I scratch my fingers up his nape and pull on his hair in a more gentle and needing manner, "I can take it."

Daemon lets out an amused garbled noise then claws my legs apart as he shifts above me. I throw my head back and squeal the moment shoves in my weeping cunny and he proceeds to thrust at a vigorous pace. He huffs through his nostrils as his thick, heavy member bullies into me. He pins me in place by clamping his hands at the back of my thigh and folding my legs like he meant to make me half my size.

"Oh," he lets out a prolonged sigh, "if they could see you now," he heaves, "powerless against me, reduced into a mewling little girl, taking it like a bitch in heat." He chuckles, lifting himself up to watch how he had me whining and rolling my eyes back.

He releases one thigh then pushes my jaw back; my voice and neck strain because of it. He goes wild over the sight and sound of my frantic breathing. He slightly squeezes my jaw, "no one's gonna know you lost your maidenhead to me."

I feel my lungs deflate when he puts more pressure on my airways.

"Mmm," he hums through the sound of slapping skin, "but everyone's gonna know I pumped my seed into you when your babe comes out looking like me."

I suck in a sharp breath when he releases my throat.

"Let's see how you fare once you're heavy with my child."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 1 month ago

Text

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 2.8k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: Y/n navigates the complexities of her new life in King's Landing, contending with the political intrigue and personal dynamics of the Lannister family

Warnings: Mature Themes, Possessiveness

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The day dawned clear and bright over King’s Landing, the air heavy with the weight of expectation. Word of our wedding had spread quickly, a union that would shake the foundations of Westerosi politics. Whispers followed me wherever I walked, eyes full of curiosity, envy, and, in some cases, fear. Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in the realm, was marrying again, and not just anyone—me, a Tyrell, a daughter of one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the Seven Kingdoms.

The sept was adorned with Lannister crimson and gold, blended tastefully with the green and gold of House Tyrell. It was a show of strength, of unity between two great houses, but I knew the truth beneath the façade. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy—it was something far more complicated, more intimate. It was the culmination of everything that had passed between Tywin and me, a union that neither of us had planned for but one that now seemed inevitable.

As I stood in my chambers, my ladies helping me into my gown, I felt the weight of the day pressing down on me. The dress was a masterpiece, a deep emerald green trimmed with golden lions at the cuffs and neckline, an unmistakable symbol of my new allegiance to House Lannister. My hair had been braided and adorned with delicate golden chains, Tywin’s way of showing the world that I belonged to him now.

My heart raced as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how the world would see me after today. A Tyrell by birth but a Lannister by marriage. A new player in the game of thrones.

“Y/n ,” Margaery said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. She had been unusually quiet, her own ambitions simmering beneath the surface. She was to be Queen, and I her grandmother by marriage—our fates intertwined in ways neither of us had ever anticipated. “You look beautiful.”

I nodded, offering her a small smile, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I wondered how the day would unfold—how Tywin would act, what would be expected of me. The bedding ceremony loomed in the back of my mind, a tradition I found distasteful, but one I knew would be demanded by the court. Still, I had learned enough about Tywin to know that he would not let such a vulgar display take place, not with me. He was possessive, protective in his own way, and I suspected that even the suggestion of other men touching me would not be tolerated.

The sept was filled with the most powerful lords and ladies of Westeros. The great houses had sent their envoys: Olenna Tyrell sat with her usual smirk, clearly amused by the whole affair. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked down the aisle, arm in arm with my father. I had seen her speaking with Tywin earlier, no doubt testing him as she always did, teasing him about the growing bond between our houses.

“Closer than ever now,” I could imagine her saying with that knowing smile. Tywin, of course, would not have been amused, though he respected Olenna’s wit. She was one of the few people who could match him in cunning.

As I approached the altar, I saw Tywin waiting for me, his expression as impassive as ever. He looked regal, powerful, every inch the Lord of Casterly Rock. Yet, when our eyes met, there was something else there—something only I could see. A flicker of warmth, of pride. Perhaps even affection, though he would never admit it.

The ceremony itself was a blur, the words of the septon washing over me as I stood beside Tywin, our hands joined in a grip that was both firm and intimate. As we said our vows, pledging ourselves to each other, I could feel the weight of the moment, the realization that I was now bound to this man in every way. He was my husband, my partner in every sense of the word.

The feast that followed was lavish, as expected. Long tables stretched across the hall, filled with the finest foods and wines. The high lords and ladies raised their cups to us, toasting our union, though I knew many of them were more interested in what this marriage meant for the balance of power in Westeros. Tywin sat beside me, his hand resting possessively on my knee under the table, a subtle reminder of his claim over me.

Margaery, sitting nearby, smiled serenely, though I could see the gears turning in her mind. She was focused on her own future, her own ambitions to become Queen. She glanced at me occasionally, as if to assess my own plans now that I was married to the most powerful man in the realm. I met her gaze, offering nothing but a quiet, knowing smile in return. We were both playing the game now, but we were on the same side—at least for now.

As the feast drew on, I could feel the tension building. The time for the bedding ceremony was approaching, and the lords were beginning to grow restless. I saw the glint in their eyes, the anticipation of the vulgar tradition where they would carry me to the bed, stripping me of my clothes and dignity.

But before anyone could make a move, Tywin stood, his voice cutting through the noise of the hall with the sharpness of a blade. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” he announced, his tone brooking no argument. “Any man who so much as touches my wife will lose his hands.”

A silence fell over the hall, the weight of his words sinking in. Tywin’s gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge him. No one did. The lords averted their eyes, suddenly interested in their food and wine.

His display of authority sent a thrill through me, my pulse quickening. It wasn’t just his power that excited me, but the way he wielded it so effortlessly, the way he made it clear that I belonged to him and him alone. It was possessive, yes, but in a way that made me feel more desired than I had ever been.

As Tywin took my hand and led me from the hall, I could feel the eyes of the court on us, their whispers following in our wake. But I didn’t care. All that mattered now was the man beside me.

Once inside our chambers, the door closed behind us, the tension from the hall melted away, leaving only the two of us in the quiet of the room. Tywin turned to me, his eyes dark with intent, his hands already moving to undo the laces of my gown.

“You are mine,” he said, his voice low and rough as he pulled me close, his hands firm on my hips. “And no one else will ever touch you.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through me, and I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as his hands roamed over my body. “Yes,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “I am yours.”

He didn’t waste any time, his hands deftly removing the rest of my clothes until I stood bare before him. He took a moment to admire me, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin before pulling me to him, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

As he laid me down on the bed, his body pressing against mine, I felt a surge of desire unlike anything I had ever known. His touch was firm, commanding, and I responded eagerly, my hands gripping his shoulders as he moved over me.

“I will give you children,” he growled into my ear, his breath hot against my skin as he positioned himself between my legs. “Strong sons. Daughters to carry on our legacy.”

His words sent a thrill through me, and I arched beneath him, my body trembling with anticipation. “Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back. “Give me your children.”

With that, he entered me with a forceful thrust, his hands gripping my hips as he began to move with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. Each thrust was filled with purpose, with the promise of the future we would build together.

I clung to him, lost in the intensity of our connection, my body responding to every movement, every word. I had never felt so desired, so utterly claimed, and the thought of bearing his children, of being the mother to his heirs, only heightened my pleasure.

Tywin’s thrusts grew more forceful, more desperate, and I could feel the tension building in him as he neared his release. “You will bear my sons,” he growled again, his voice thick with lust.

“Yes,” I moaned, my body trembling beneath him. “I will give you everything.”

With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into me, his body tense as he held me close, his breath ragged against my neck. For a moment, we lay there, our bodies intertwined, the weight of our future hanging over us.

But as we lay in the afterglow, I couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of father would he be? If he could be so cruel to his own children, what would he be like with mine?

I pushed the thought aside for now, focusing on the man beside me, the man who had just made me his in every way. Whatever the future held, I would face it with him.

And I would make sure that my children—our children—knew love, even if I had to teach Tywin how to give it.

______________________________________________________________

The days following the wedding were an exercise in learning the intricacies of my new life as Lady Lannister. While I had anticipated the whispers and careful gazes from the court, I hadn't fully understood just how much my marriage to Tywin would shake the foundation of King's Landing. It was no longer just a political alliance between Houses; it was a new chapter for the Lannisters, a merging of ambitions and legacies that would echo through the halls for years to come.

Tywin was already at work consolidating his plans, as expected. He wasted no time returning to his role as Hand of the King, and now, with me by his side, he seemed even more intent on securing his family’s dominance. But for all his strength and power, I could sense the slight tension in him when it came to his own children.

Jaime, always the more impetuous of Tywin’s children, had met me with a degree of indifference that bordered on cool curiosity. He observed me, his golden lion gaze flicking over me with the faintest hint of judgment. Yet, for all his disapproval of our marriage, he had not openly voiced it. Perhaps because he, more than anyone, understood his father's pragmatism. He could see what our marriage meant for the Lannisters, but there was something else too—a distance in him, as if he was unsure how to react to having a stepmother younger than himself. He greeted me with a forced smile and the kind of gallant charm expected from the Kingslayer.

“Welcome to the family,” Jaime said at one of our first dinners after the wedding, his tone bordering on teasing, though there was a guardedness behind his words. “It’s rare to see Father so... invested in someone.”

His comment didn’t miss its mark. I could feel Tywin tense beside me, but he made no outward reaction to his son’s veiled barb.

Cersei, on the other hand, was far less subtle in her hostility. Her disdain for me was evident from the first moment I entered the hall as Tywin’s wife. She made no effort to mask her contempt, her lips curling into a sneer whenever we were in the same room. I had anticipated as much; Cersei had lost her position as the only woman in Tywin’s life, and she resented me for it. What I hadn’t expected, however, was the coldness that came with it.

At one point, when we found ourselves alone in the gardens, she approached me, her voice dripping with malice. “Don’t think for one moment that you can replace my mother,” she hissed. “You may be Lady Lannister now, but you are still just another pawn in my father’s game.”

Her words were harsh, but I knew better than to take the bait. Instead, I smiled calmly, refusing to let her provoke me. “I have no intention of replacing anyone, Cersei,” I replied softly. “But we are family now, and it would serve us both better to work together rather than against one another.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more, storming off in a whirl of crimson and gold. I knew she would be a thorn in my side for as long as we remained in King’s Landing, but I wasn’t concerned. I had dealt with powerful women before—Olenna had taught me well. Cersei was dangerous, but she was also predictable.

Tommen, however, was a different matter entirely. Sweet, innocent Tommen had taken to me far more easily than his older brother. His childlike admiration for his new grandmother soon to be sister in marriage was endearing, and I couldn’t help but feel protective of him. He was the boy king, thrust into a world of power and deceit, and yet he retained a gentleness that neither Joffrey nor Cersei possessed.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Tommen asked one afternoon as we walked through the gardens, accompanied by Ser Pounce. “That you’re my grandmother, but also my soon to be wife's sister.”

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair as he beamed up at me. “It’s a bit complicated, isn’t it? But I suppose we’ll have to navigate these strange family ties together.”

He nodded, content with the answer, and I felt a surge of affection for him. Tommen was an easy boy to love, and I knew that Margaery was already wrapping him around her little finger. She was the perfect queen for him—clever, kind, and ambitious. I had seen her ambition grow ever stronger since our marriage, her eyes constantly trained on her future as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Margaery had perfected the art of subtle manipulation. She showered Tommen with affection, and he adored her in return. There was no doubt in my mind that she would succeed where Cersei had failed. Margaery knew how to handle power, how to keep her enemies close while presenting the perfect image of a loving wife.

As for Myrcella, her fate had been one of the first topics Tywin and I discussed after our wedding. There had been talk of bringing her back from Dorne, but Tywin was firm in his decision. The marriage to Trystane Martell was still advantageous, and he saw no reason to disrupt the arrangement. I had questioned him about it, wondering whether he feared for her safety in such a volatile kingdom, but Tywin had been resolute.

“She is safest where she is,” he had told me one evening as we sat in our chambers, his hand resting on mine. “The Martells may hate us, but they will not harm Myrcella. Not while we hold such power over the realm.”

His logic was sound, as always, but I couldn’t help but worry. Myrcella was an innocent girl, much like Tommen, and I didn’t trust the Martells any more than he did. But I knew better than to challenge Tywin’s decisions on matters of strategy. He had spent his entire life mastering the game of thrones, and I had no doubt that he would keep his granddaughter safe, even from afar.

The court, meanwhile, had been thrown into a whirlwind of speculation following our marriage. I was the new Lady Lannister, and though I was born with the Tyrell name, I was now firmly embedded in the lion’s den. Some welcomed me with open arms, eager to curry favor with the new power couple. Others were less enthusiastic, their eyes full of suspicion and jealousy.

Whispers followed me wherever I went, but I had grown used to them. The courtiers may have thought they could undermine me with their gossip, but I had learned well from Olenna. I had my own sources of information, and I knew exactly who could be trusted and who couldn’t.

What surprised me the most, however, was the respect I garnered simply by standing at Tywin’s side. His authority was absolute, and by marrying him, I had inherited a portion of that power. People deferred to me, not just because of my position, but because they feared Tywin’s wrath should they slight his new wife. It was a heady feeling, knowing that I could wield influence over the court simply by being his partner.

But with that power came responsibility, and I knew I had to navigate the court with care. I had to maintain the delicate balance between being a supportive wife to Tywin and asserting my own place in the game. Tywin respected strength, and I intended to prove that I was not just another pawn in his plans.

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #a game of thrones #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister #tywin x reader #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #house lannister #tyrion lannister #reader #tommen baratheon #joffrey baratheon

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junedenim · 2 months ago

Text

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.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

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brandogenius · 9 months ago

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can I request a hc about attending an awards show (the grammys?) with jb? 😌

i can indeed darling! i’m so proud of our boys! 3 grammys they won today! couldn’t be any more prouder!

(not proofread)

HC - attending the grammys with julien!

- attending the grammys with julien is a once in a life time experience you’ll never forget

- hand in hand for photos, julien dressed in her white suit whilst you are dressed in a long black dress. black and white they compliment each other

- of course both of you break the internet by proudly showing off your hickeys on each others necks

- the atmosphere is so loud and overwhelming , it’s your first time at an award show, julien has her hands around your waist at all times.

- in a protective manner and to make sure you don’t get lost. hands on your waist or thigh. holding onto your hand. she’ll make sure you don’t get lost.

- presuming you and the boys all sit together at a table, julien and you sit beside each other. juliens hand on your thigh, reassuring you.

- holding onto juliens hand tightly with one hand and crossing your fingers in a silent prayer in the other when their categories come up

- the minute they were best rock performance winners for not strong enough you just started sobbing.

- the first thing julien does is stand up and hug you. kissing you long and softly before going up to collect her award.

- the first person julien thanks in her speech is you. talking about how you have been her rock and the most important people in her life to help her get through it all

- “i want to thank my beautiful girlfriend. the most important person to me”

- going back to their chairs after the speeches you’re dabbing your face to try and stop the tears.

- it’s such an emotional night for you and the boys. you’re so proud of them.

- second and third award for best rock song and best alternative album has you crying again you’re sure your makeup is ruined.

- yet again, julien stands up and kisses you smiling into the kiss.

- it was such an amazing night for everyone.

- going back stage with julien after the event julien holds into your hand tightly, tears stained on her face with a big grin.

- your lipstick is stained all over her face but she couldn’t care less.

- she ends up dragging you in with her to take some photos even if you ended up being a bit shy.

- spam posting on twitter during intervals you tweet about the boys winning and crying about it. rting a lot of posts

- you have a bit of a big following on twitter anyway. most of it being from being juliens girlfriend and boygenius’s no1 defender.

- boygenius twt fandom loves you. so crying on the timeline about your girlfriend winning a grammy has multiple other people crying in the comments section with you

- julien posting photos on instagram with you holding the grammys together

- going back to the hotel together both of you are still pretty emotional from the events that happened

- a tired and sleepy bath together. washing each others hair

- “i’m so proud of you julien. couldn’t be more prouder”

- the praise you give your girlfriend along with the tiredness crashing into her from the adrenaline that happened a few hours ago has her tearing up in the bathtub

- just a small emotional moment. julien realising where she is in the moment. 3 time grammy winner, in a warm bath surrounded by love and affection. it makes her heart burst with happiness

- she definitely becomes the little spoon for the night.

- the wave of emotion hitting her like a ton of bricks realising the events of today like a delayed reaction has her silently crying in your neck

- obviously you let her have her moment. letting julien melt into your chest as you run your hands through her hair. julien slowly falling asleep to the sounds of your small hums and praises

- you can only pray that next year there’ll be more grammy nominations and wins to come

im so sorry if this isn’t good :( a bit rushed! i reallt felt excited to do this and with the boys grammy wins tonight it was fresh in my mind!

#pom writes #julien baker x reader #julien baker au #julien baker one shot #julien baker fanfic #julien baker fluff #boygenius au #boygenius fanfic #boygenius one shot #boygenius x reader #julien baker x fem!reader

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meeludrawz · 2 months ago

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hi i love your writing! can you do tomura shigaraki trying desperately to cook or plan a cute date night in for someone he likes?? thanks!

Weeee!! :D I was excited to write that one! :3 Content: Fluff, Comfort <3 Warnings: Mention of blood

Perfect - Shigaraki x Reader

He was sweating bullets, he had been trying to prepare something special for the both of you but the league kept entering the motherfucking kitchen to grab snacks and wouldn't leave because it was 'funny to mess with him'.

At least that's what he was thinking, in reality, they weren't doing anything to stress him. He just didn't know how to deal with this. Usually, he or you'd plan an outing, sometimes Kurogiri would cook or you'd get takeouts.

This time though, he really wanted to plan everything from A to Z, including cooking.

Dabi had stopped in the kitchen's doorframe, a raised eyebrow. This was literally the first time that he'd step in the kitchen since Shigaraki had started planning for tonight. "Geez boss, I knew you hated me but no need to act like that"

The white haired mand didn't even look up at him, his bangs hiding his eyes. He kept scratching his neck, staring at the recipe. It shouldn't be that hard, right? "Go away" He mumbled.

He could see, from the side of his vision that Dabi rolled his eyes and walked away before coming back 2 seconds later. "Okay, the fuck's the problem?"

"Nothing, everything's fine" Tomura spat out of his mouth like it was venom.

"Uh huh" Touya clearly seemed to not believe him.

Tomura took a deep breath and finally looked at his friend, associate, colleague…, employee? He still wasn't sure what to call Dabi. "Fuck off, I'm fine"

"Sure, whatever but you should patch up your neck before that ruins your date" The scarred man disappeared in the hallway.

Tomura blinked then looked at his fingers. Fuck. There was some blood under his fingernails. He had scratched too much without even noticing.

This wasn't going well.

A few minutes later, he was back in the kitchen, hands cleaned, he had washed them at least thrice to make sure of it, and bandages were wrapped around his neck.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn't so bad. It's not like he had lost an arm while cooking, right?

He followed the recipe as much as he could. Tomura swore at it, multiple times as he had to google some terms that he couldn't understand. He almost used his quirk twice out of spite but didn't. He had to do it. For you.

But something went wrong, he didn't know what, but smoke was coming from the oven. "FUCK" He stuck his head out in the hallway, looking for something.

But of course, living in an abandoned place, there wasn't any fire extinguisher. The smell of smoke quickly invaded their whole lair, the other league members started showing up, lowkey panicking. Except Dabi.

Luck must've been on his side because you, Sako and Kurogiri warped into the kitchen a few seconds later. The purple mist man quickly warped the oven to some unknown place.

Sako and Kurogiri urged the league to open every window so the smoke could escape, while also leaving you two in the kitchen.

The look you had on your face, that worry, he couldn't handle it at the moment so he avoided your gaze.

You approached him and gently grabbed his wrist. He silently followed you as you brought him on the roof. He helped you climb due to your tight clothes stopping you from doing some movements. He also was wearing something nice.. Well now it was ruined due to the ashes.

You both sat down and leaned against each other. "Sorry"

"For what?" You gently asked.

"I burnt our dinner"

You smiled softly. "It's okay, as long as you're not hurt"

Tomura groaned and you looked up at him. "No it's not, I was trying to do something special for you and it just didn't fucking work." Tomura wasn't the type to curse unless he was pissed, like now. He spotted that frown forming in your face and his state worsened.

"Tenko, it's fine, I promise, I really appreciate-"

God, he loved it when you called him by his real name. He almost forgot why he was angry for a split second. "You don't get it" He interrupted you. "I wanted this to be perfect for you. It had to be something special that you'd remember"

Your frown switched to a confused expression. "Why?"

He snorted, he couldn't believe that you couldn't understand something so obvious. "You're genuine, funny, caring, kind.. You're even more than that.. But it's perfection to me"

"I'm not-" You started before he interrupted you again.

"Shut up, yes you are, even your little quirks and bad habits of yours… Somehow" He sighed and his scarlet hues finally met yours. "You deserved something perfect tonight" Tomura looked down. "But I ruined it.. Because I'm.."

A monster, was what he was trying to say. He didn't care about his looks, he really didn't. But on the inside? He was mean, cruel, a dangerous freak. And yet you still loved him. How? He didn't know but that's why you were so special to him, that he loved you back.

You didn't need him to finish his sentence to understand what he was thinking about, and he loved that too about you.

"Tenko.. I don't care about what happens when we're having a date. I don't need fancy shit. We could legit have it in the sewers or in a trash container behind a crappy restaurant and I wouldn't care because you'd be with me. And as long as you're having a good time too, I couldn't care less about the rest" You grebbed his hand and he intertwined his fingers with yours. He was always wearing gloves nowadays, because he never knew when you'd grab his hands. So he was being extra careful.

Tomura snorted, 5 seconds ago and he thought he was the freak one but now you were saying that a date in the sewers was okay. "You're weird, we should discuss about those strange date ideas of yours"

You hit his shoulder with no strength in it and he laughed. "Those were examples!"

The young man snatched your wrist before you'd "hit" him again. "I know and I get it now"

You smiled softly and he dropped your wrist before reaching for the side of your face. "I love you" You whispered gently.

And he could've melted right here and there but he smiled back. "Love you to the stars and back"

You snorted, he had done that cheesy line on purpose, just to hear you laugh. Because you knew he disliked the lovey dovey speeches. "Look at you being cheesy"

"What can I say? I'm a romantic"

Your laughs echoed through the calm night that the only light was the moon and stars.

{Yeah, nevermind} He thought. {This is perfect}

When you can't properly gradient the sentences because of Tumblr's character limit per blocks 😭😭😭

#thank you for the ask!#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura #tenko x reader #mha oneshot #bnha oneshot

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Our Lost Girl, Our Babydoll - Part 3

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O

Summary: A bookshop and a spilled coffee leads you to Clint. He leads you to Natasha, and you lead them both to your best friend Darcy. They try to introduce you to Bucky and Steve but you're full of excuses and Irish goodbyes. Until Bucky catches your scent on Natasha and he's sliding in your DM's and offering to help pack up Darcy's apartment. Steve wants to give their bookworm the world and your Irish goodbyes won't slip passed him, because his eyes never leave you. But what's giving you the lost look in your eyes?

Chapter Summary: It's time for the reader to meet Bucky.

Darcy and Natasha both went to speak but were stopped by the main door to the apartment block opening. Thankfully it was Maria and not overexcited alphas.

“Hey, I’m sorry but a certain two alphas are getting a little worked up. I’ve just had to explain girl talk.”

You brushed yourself down, ridding yourself of danish crumbs as you stood up.

“Let’s back some boxes shall we!” You said, false excitement in your voice.

“Hang on, finish what you were saying.” Nat prompted.

“There’s nothing else to say, my body isn’t happy that’s it.”

“How bad is it? The suppressant sickness?” Asked Darcy. Maria’s eyes went wide and she tried to discreetly take in your scent but couldn’t get passed the blocker on your neck.

“Honestly, don’t worry about it.” And you dipped passed Maria in the doorway.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Darcy asked Natasha.

“I’m not sure.”

“I can’t get passed the blocker.” Maria whispered as they followed you.

“I can hear you all you know. Let it go or I’ll go home and take the tape guns with me.” You called behind you.

“Ooooo I’m terrified.” Nat snorted as she caught up with you. “Just to warn you, they are both here and Barnes has been pacing.”

“I know, I can smell them both.”

Maria raised an eyebrow and glanced at Natasha. You wearing a blocker and so were they but you could still smell each other. Natasha smirked back at Maria knowingly. You weren’t just a good match. You were a perfect match. Maria rolled her eyes back at Natasha. It was sickening annoying when she was right, especially when it was her matchmaking skills.

You’re making idle chitchat about packing boxes and how much they’ve done so far, when you stop abruptly on the stairs, a route you’ve taken over the elevator to buy some time. A whiff of what you could only decide as deliciousness finds your nose. A whine starts in your throat and you slam your hand over your mouth to stop it coming out. You hear a door open and footsteps, that also seem to stop abruptly. The silence is followed by a deep pur and your eyes follow the sound. Looking up the next flight of stairs your eyes lock with the alpha, who’s now peering over the bannister back at you. Blue-grey eyes lock with yours and a wash of warmth glides over you.

Bucky.

You try to control your omega urges but it’s a poor fight when your perfect match is standing there. Your legs feel unsteady and you grip the bannister to balance yourself. You find yourself gravitating up the stairs and towards the alpha. Your eyes scanning him as you do. His shoulders are broad and you can almost feel the strength radiating from him. The red Henley stretches around his biceps, just as his jeans do around his thighs. You glance at his neck, your omega urges still leading and wanting to check his mark, even though you knew he was unmated. He tilted his head so you could fully see it. Bare, besides the scent blocker over it. He smirked at you and purred again and glanced at your bonding mark. You moved your hair and pulled at your clothes so he could see yours in return. He smiled softly when he saw yours was also bare about from the blocker.

It didn’t slip by the others observing from the stairs that you had shown him the opposite mark to the one you’d shown Steve weeks earlier.

Before you realise what’s happened your toe to toe at the top of the stairs. You feel yourself abruptly come back to your senses and your eyes go wide when your chest to chest with one of your matches. Your nose picks up the other is nearby.

“Oh.” Is all the comes out of your mouth as you go to take a step back, forgetting your at the top of the stairs. You almost lose your footing and Bucky is quick to grab you, an arm around your waist as he pulls you into him.

Your eyes meet his as you let out a gasp.

“Hey Babydoll.”

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

Tag list

@shellybellystuff @ordelixx @animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90

#avengers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve rogers x reader #alpha steve rogers x omega reader #avengers #alpha steve rogers x omega reader x alpha bucky barnes #alpha bucky barnes x reader #alpha bucky barnes x omega reader

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ccawz · 1 year ago

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moments IV

a/n: personal fav is ksm <3 my baseball boy 🩷

warnings: some sad themes in Minho, Felix, and Jeongin’s (mostly Lix) slight nudity in hyunjin’s (not explicitly, it’s implied!)

ot8! x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) established relationships | 1.1k total wc

“Do you think our parallel universe selves are together?” Chan asks quietly, watching patiently for a shooting star to cross the night sky.

Your hand brushes against his, sand follows with it, and you start to regret laying on the sand without a blanket underneath. “I like to think we are.” You reply, “That in every universe I’d find you, or you’d find me, and we’d save each other like we did here.”

Chan doesn’t fight the smile that comes to his face, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss, sputtering when grains of sand land on his tongue.

A laugh comes from you, and Chan melts at the sound. He stares at you like you’re the only one in the world, and in his eyes, you truly are.

“It’s five in the morning.”

At your groggy tone, Minho stares at the clock. Red digits blink tauntingly at him, and he fights the urge to throw the clock across the room. “It’s night over here.”

Silence falls through the line. Minho thinks you’d fallen back asleep– he doesn’t blame you. “I miss you.” He says. He’d only say it when he thinks you aren’t listening. “I want to see you so, so bad.”

He settles onto his bed, looking out the window, staring at the moon who smiles back at him. He scowls. He couldn’t help it. “When I come back home to you, let’s go stargazing.”

He hears you shuffle but doesn’t speak another word. Though his lips curve into a smile when he hears you sleepily mumble out an “okay.”

“Have you taken a break?”

You look at Changbin from the corner of your eye, your typing never stopping even when he’d lean against your desk beside you. “Yes?”

“Honey,” he says, closing his eyes in exhaustion when you don’t acknowledge him any further. “You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up.”

“I need you to understand something, Bin.” He nods, lowering himself to his knees to look at you. “I won’t be able to focus on you if this report isn’t done.” He nods again. “I want to be with you, I want to take a break, but I just can’t allow myself to do it right now.” He stands back up, pinching your cheek lightly with a smile.

“I’ll stay with you, maybe get some work done too. Is that okay?” You nod, grateful that he’s always understanding. Even if you’d both be working and not acknowledging each other, just being together was enough for him.

“I think this is cruel and unjust punishment,” Hyunjin says, holding his arms up awkwardly as you mark his skin with dotted lines. “I only ate your food. I thought as a couple we could share things like that.”

“Leftovers are one thing, new food is another.” You say, slapping another sticky note on his body, smiling at the way his eyes close with irritation. “You don’t like me touching you?”

His ears flush red, but the irritation is still apparent on his face as he looks at his body littered with anatomy notes. “I do, but not when it’s study-related.”

“Don’t eat my food then.” You shrug, moving behind him. He feels the marker glide over his shoulder blades, the muscles contracting at the temperature. A kiss on his shoulder makes his body warm, “Thanks for letting me do this.”

“I didn’t,” he grumbles, then in a quieter voice, “You're welcome.”

“Can you wash the dishes?” Jisung looks up at you with pleading eyes, then shuffles over to you when you don’t look up from the magazine in your hands. “Baby, please.”

Your hand brushes his hair back, fingers massaging his head lightly. Jisung nearly moans at the feeling, slumping against your body while your hands travel to the nape of his neck. “Why?”

“I don’t want to do them.” He laughs quietly at his confession, tilting his head when your thumb brushes over his pulse point. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, smiling when his hair tickles your skin. “Will you do something else instead?” You ask, rubbing his back gently. “If you don’t mind.”

Jisung hums, kissing your arm softly. “I’ll take care of the laundry.”

“When’s the last time we kissed?”

Your eyes flicker to Felix, though there’s a wall of pillows hiding him from you. “I can’t remember.” You turn over, and he’s still facing the ceiling– you’re assuming. “Do you miss me?”

Felix doesn’t respond like you want him to. He keeps quiet and stares at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars you two had put up when you moved in.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” He whispers. The pillow closest to your leg gets tossed to the side. “I didn’t mean it. I was angry and– and you were yelling at me, but you were crying, so I was torn between being mad and comforting you.” The pillow near your waist moved next. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Finally, the last pillow moved. Felix was crying, not hiding the tears that flowed and dampened his pillow.

“You're holding the bat wrong.” You roll your eyes at Seungmin, groaning when he comes up behind you to adjust your stance. “The way you were standing, you’d trip before you could even leave the plate.”

Seungmin smiles when you lean the slightest into him, nudging you back into place after a second. “Weren’t you a shortstop and the cleanup?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. Pointing the bat at his chest. “That’s how we met.” He smiles, leaning over your shoulder to kiss you. “I’m glad we made the bet that day.”

He quirks a brow, “You’re glad we made a bet that the loser takes the winner on a date? And your team lost?” Your elbow jabs into his stomach, a small groan of pain coming from him.

“Even if my team lost, I won 'cause I got you.”

“Have you gotten any sleep lately?”

You hum, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear. “Can’t sleep without you.” He tuts, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was wagging his finger and shaking his head.

“Baby, you need to rest.”

“I am,” you tell him. It wasn’t a lie. “It just doesn’t come as easy as it does when you’re here.” Jeongin sighs, shuffling about on his end. “Have you been sleeping well?”

“Of course, I actually have a blanket at night.” A chuckle comes from you. Jeongin succeeds in his mission of lifting your mood. “I miss you though. I can’t wait to see you again.”

You hum, smiling to yourself at his open affection. “I’ll be waiting for you.” You can hear his grin through the phone, your smile growing when he laughs quietly.

a/n; making another member!reader vers so I can write another m!reader for this lil series (but I’ll also do a m!reader that’s non member too)

#skz x gn reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x male reader #bangchan x reader #lee know x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #lee yongbok x reader #lee minho x reader #bang chan x reader

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arcadia-of-pluto · 1 month ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Nineteen

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4,646

Themes; isekai, slow burn (eventual smut), Canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for some swearing and mature themes

Notes; Hey guys! Finally done with Sea God Rafayel and now we're on Foreseer Zayne! Currently, his chapter spans until twenty-three, so hopefully I'll be able to wrap up his story soon and get on to the next one. I'm unsure if I want to do Abysswalker Rafayel since that's in the future or if I should skip past that and go straight to the next one 🤔 either let me know or I'll figure it out myself!

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Masterlist

"I will cut out your heart with a dagger honed, my darling. And in Love’s name, your heart will become my faith. Your body will be washed clean like a pearl. I will care for your heart. Till we meet again and you can reclaim it for yourself."

- Siren’s Ballad, Act 3: Muia

You felt your feet sinking in sand, endless is the yellow sky. Plants grow along a dried riverbed. You walk beside it for a long, long, long time. The skin on your fingers is dry, cracked. Your feet begin to bleed.

At the edge of the riverbed is a young man and a giant sea creature. You cannot make out his features, but you think he’s taking in the animal’s warmth. He appears to be singing a melody. ‘Tis strange, alluring. But you can barely make out any notes as his voice is barely above a whisper.

You take a few steps, wishing to hear him better and when he looks up, you immediately recognize those eyes. He stands up and reaches out to you like you were an old friend returning from a long trip.

“There’s Whalefall City.” He points to the bones of sea creatures long dead. In the distance, they rest in the sand dunes.

“That’s where I can look at the sea?”

“...yes.”

You take his hand and you arrive at your destination when the sun rises. The teen turns toward you and– a dagger plunges into your chest.

Warm blood drips and seeps into the sand below. You watch helplessly as he rips open your chest and holds your heart in his hands, red with your blood. A tiny flame feeds on your fresh blood and a shiny crystal, emitting a strange light, rests at the center of the flames.

There’s a voice in the air whispering, “The reason for us to leave the desert is not to find an oasis…We’re here for a heart, to take it back and make it our worship.”

You jolt up in your bed. A dream within a dream? That was...insane.

Your hand clutches at your chest, almost worried that your heart isn’t there even though you’re alive and breathing– breathing?

Yeah, no.

You felt like you were suffocating. It genuinely felt like your heart was ripped from your chest. You take a few breaths to calm yourself.

To calm yourself, you talk with Algie about the ceremony tomorrow. She says girls wear light, flowy clothes and braid their hair with beautiful pearls and shells. She also says they prepared a lovely garment for you. You also worry about what all you need to do, but she says all you need to do is stand in a conspicuous spot and give Rafayel your hand. She quickly dissuades your worries, telling you that the Sea God’s follower will help him see Lemuria’s future and that the prophecy will reveal the fate of Lemuria.

It’s just a bit nerve wracking, you hope your dream wasn’t a premonition of what’s to come.

Today was the day. After thousands of years, Whalefall City holds the Sea God’s ceremony again.

Before the sunrises, the whole city is in festival mode with everyone looking forward to the ceremony celebrating the Sea God’s coming of age and gaining the power to protect the ocean.

As Konche and Algie argue amongst each other, she turns around to spot you in a corner.

“Y/n, what’re you hiding over there for? The sea god won’t be able to see you!” She gently scolds you and you sigh, “Does it matter? There’s so many people, he might not…”

“Quiet, here he is,” Konche whispers and the crowd erupts in cheers. You look up and spot a huge shadow sweeping over Whalefall City.

‘Tis a beautiful and sacred creature of the ocean. It appears to be a whale and yet has bird wings. The Sea God sits on its back, passing by his loyal subjects before stopping at the gates to Whalefall City.

He walks through the crowd until he stands in front of you, your breath hitches in your chest as he lifts the veil on your head and takes your hand.

Beautiful, intricate patterns are painted on his body. His eyes are shaped like crescent moons with how much he was smiling. It's as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Everyone moves aside, creating a path for you both as you make your way down. Every child says their blessings in Lemurian. Gorgeous coral branches are thrown behind you as you approach the temple’s doors.

The door slowly closes behind you both, songs from the outside melding with prayers for inside the temple.

In the dimly lit hall, the fire twists in the darkness, about to go out. The young Sea God intertwines your fingers and holds your hands against his chest. You close your eyes before calling out his name silently.

Yes…You were willing to give him your heart. You are willing to give him your sincerest form of worship, that’s how much you care for him. You are willing to have his very being etched, engraved onto your soul as you praise and pray to him for the rest of your life.

Soft like a silken thread, the Sea God’s fire touches your hand. The fiery thread embeds itself into your palm, becoming a line, a part of your very soul. Your eyes flutter back open to meet Rafayel’s gaze.

The young Sea God’s voice like the wind, blowing out the only light in the darkness, “This is my promise to you. For ‘tis Lemuria’s vow, a bond everlasting.”

"No one knows what happened that day. Lemuria is plunged into endless darkness and panic seeps into every part of the ocean. The deep sea is angry and in its wrath, waves slam against the cliffs and rocks fall into the waters. Even temples are turned to rubble."

"Tis a long time before the sea god walks out of the temple alone, bringing light back to Lemuria. As he leaves the temple, the alcove that once held the flame collapses."

"The Sea God’s follower is gone."

"Bathed in sparks and cinders, he holds a small, pulsing flame. It writhes like a newborn. Some said that the flame was born from the purest faith. Some said that the sea god sacrificed his follower to save Lemuria…"

"Different stories, some true, some not, circulated until the people gradually forgot about the ceremony. No Lemurians have ever seen the Sea God’s follower and the little fish that swims around him– they are gone, whereabouts unknown."

"Only many, many years later than the god of the sea has perished, when the kingdom has sunk to the depths of the ocean, a rumor begins to circulate Lemuria. The God of the Sea had lied to the deep sea. For his beloved."

- Lemuria: The Days to Come

The sunlight burns behind your eyelids and you feel more tired than when you first fell asleep. You rest your hand over your eyes and groan as you sit up, your other hand feeling oddly heavy.

You open your eyes and turn to look before realizing Sylus was still holding your hand with his head limply off to the side as he slept in the chair.

“That must be pretty uncomfortable..” You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you feel a headache pulsing through your temples.

What exactly happened at the end? Did Rafayel…Take your heart or?

“The God of the Sea had lied to the deep sea for his beloved,” You murmur, holding your chin in your hand. You wonder what that meant.

Did he give his heart away instead? You clearly didn’t leave the temple with him at the end…

Wait– Not you, her. The main character–

You rest your head in your hands with a low groan.

What was going on?

You were slowly forgetting who you were, being overwhelmed with all of these unfamiliar memories and unable to remember what your past life– what your real life was even like. You felt like you were actually becoming the protagonist of ‘Love and Deepspace’.

“This is insane,” You sigh, leaning your head back against the headboard.

“What's insane? Did you get a good rest?” Sylus asks, cracking one eye open as he looks at you, before he chuckles and shakes his head, “Nevermind, don’t answer that, sweetie. The dark circles under your eyes tell me all I need to know.”

“I mean, I did sleep. I just...” You trail off and Sylus pats your hand. “Felt like you didn’t sleep?” He stands up and holds out a hand for you, “First, let’s get you changed out of that dress and then, we can get you some coffee to wake you up.”

You take his hand, your body suddenly feeling heavy as if it recalled how light it felt under the water in Lemuria.

Then, you hear something clink around your neck and bring your hand up to touch the necklace that rested flat against your chest.

“Now where did that come from? I’m pretty sure I took all of your jewelry off before you fell asleep,” Sylus raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest before he grabs some folded clothes. “It doesn’t matter. Here, this is what you wore to the Nest. I thought you’d want to wear it back home.”

But you shake your head, hand clasped around the blue scale on your necklace. “I’ll take one of your shirts again,” You clear your throat, but grab the white skirt, “I’ll wear the skirt though.”

After minutes later, you’ve groggily changed into the oversized black t-shirt and tucked it into your skirt. A pair of sneakers on your feet as you leave the room, fiddling with your necklace.

“I boxed up everything I’ve gotten you and had it sent to Linkon,” Sylus says as he walks toward you, holding a mug toward you and you gratefully take it.

You take a few sips of the scorching hot liquid before you raise an eyebrow, “Do you know my address?”

“No, I just had it sent to your workplace,” He chuckles and motions for you to follow him as Mephisto flies over to rest on his shoulder.

“Now, come on. Drink that and we’ll take you back home.”

You try to drink as fast as you can without burning yourself and then rush out the door behind Sylus, your phone resting in your backpocket as messages upon messages pile up.

Your phone finally pinging with notifications as you and Sylus entered the city limits of Linkon City. You assume you didn’t have the best of service in the N109 Zone, or perhaps Sylus was somehow blocking all outside interference from contacting you during your stay. You’d never know.

What you do know is, you’re so tired... You can barely keep your eyes open as you grasp at Sylus’ leather jacket before your hands limply fall to your side as your eyes start feeling heavy.

“Y/n?” You can hear Sylus question before he sighs, and uses his evol to hold you up on the bike, the reddish black mist wraps around both your waists.

Then, you fall back asleep once more– just hoping for a normal dream this time.

"Under Astra’s command may the Foresser deliver His will, for that is his fate.”

- Philos: Tome of the Foreseer

In the coldest regions of Philos, the Foreseer has resided in the Tower of Thorns since time immemorial. The Almighty Astra bestowed His power unto him, ordering the Foreseer to act as an emissary for the divine.

The royal family sends an envoy to the Tower of Thorns every 100 years to listen to the Foreseer’s prophecies. Yet, the Foreseer has not bestowed a prophecy to the royal family in hundreds of years. Envoys sent by his majesty never returned and their whereabouts remain unknown to this day. There is a rumor that the Foreseer has been perpetually frozen in an icy tomb.

To him, 100 years is but the blink of an eye.

And so, a new envoy travels through snow and ice, entering his tower. It happens again and again- as it always has for the past thousands of years. But you?

You’re not a real envoy– you’ve come here to treat your illness.

To do this, you must take the Creatio protocore from the Foreseer’s scepter. You have no other choice. This is your only way of survival.

Suppressing your anxiety, you walk into a massive room. The room was cold, almost as cold as the snowy outside, but bright as the moonlight glimmered against the many spears of ice decorating the room. A throne stands in the back of the room, a frozen throne.

You take a deep breath, before you bow respectfully. “I am his majesty’s envoy sent here to listen to the Foreseer’s prophecy.” Your voice echoes through the empty room, not a person in sight until you look up and notice a man wearing a blue robe sitting atop the icy throne. He holds a scepter in his gloved hand.

How strange though…His body is ensnared in brambles, thorns wrapping around his arms, legs, and chest. It almost appears like he’s shackled to the throne.

Maybe he wants to leave but something is stopping him?

You slowly approach him, seeing that his head is lowered and his eyes are shut. He’s encased in ice.

“Is he…unconscious?” You murmur to yourself. You look him up and down, wondering if you should just take the protocore now and run, but you stop yourself. His gloved hands were frosty, almost fusing the scepter to his palm. He was pale, not a hint of redness on his body at all, save for his lips.

He looked alive but…not at the same time. The thorns just a breath away from touching his black hair.

After wrestling with your thoughts, you decide it’s best to take the protocore. He’s not using it, afterall.

Might as well put it to good use.

You reach up toward the staff to grab the protocore with your gloved hand, but then a shard of ice shoots toward your hand and you jerk it away to avoid spilling any blood.

“How impudent..”

You suddenly hear a voice and you don’t immediately assume it was the man in front of you because why would it be?

He’s been asleep for thousands of years, not to mention his eyes are still closed. You look around with your brows furrowed.

Was your imagination playing tricks on you? Or…is he simply pretending to be frozen?

Your eyes widen as the thorns that were steadily wrapping around the man suddenly crumble before they disappear into thin air. You take a few steps closer to the Foreseer, confident that he’s not actually awake right now, and you take a good look at his face.

“He’s a lot more spritely than I thought...Every book I’ve read describes him as an old man,” You talk to yourself, holding your hand up to your chin before you jump in surprise as his mouth starts moving, “It seems that those Tomes you’ve gleaned through have taught you nothing about etiquette.”

Then, his eyes finally open and you’re caught off guard by how pretty they are.

They’re green, no brown…Hazel perhaps?

He glances over at you and you take a few steps backward, suddenly feeling more anxious than you did before.

“Y-You’re not actually frozen!?” You sputter out but realize he’s still not moving.

But is he still immobilized? Now, you’re curious.

You tap the side of his neck with your finger, it’s cold to the touch. Almost as if you had touched one of the ice spikes in the room.

He grunts, annoyed, “Do you know what happens when fools disrespect the Foreseer?” His voice was fittingly cold and monotone. Though you were worried, at least, he couldn’t move so you brought your hand up to touch his shoulder. It was just as freezing as his neck and stiff, akin to a corpse.

“Your actions are testing my patience.” He keeps his eyes trained forward, refusing to look at you as if you were a bug underneath his feet. As anger sparks within your chest, you place your palm against his chest and push, trying to get any kind of reaction out of him other than a monotonous reply that you would compare to an angry cat.

“It seems you do not know what true horror is.” He brings his gaze back to you. His face unchanging, keeping the same expression of slightly turned down eyebrows and an otherwise neutral look on his face.

“And you are frozen. My expectations were a bit higher than this,” You sigh with a small shrug as you step back from him.

“Winter punishes every wrongdoing in due time.”

Gods, he really sounds like an npc.

“Haven’t you heard of doing what is necessary in a bad situation?” You raise a brow, placing your hand on your hip.

“But who exactly is in a bad situation?” The Foreseer hums, tilting his head up at you.

You shake your head with a small laugh as you move forward once more and pat your hand across his lower abdomen. The man sucks in a deep breath before he sighs, otherwise staying silent.

You look up at him as you tap his stomach, “The ice is more like a crystal…What is it?”

“You have a wild curiosity and a brazen tongue.” He looks away from you and you let out a scoff, “And your tongue is like a winter’s loveless embrace.”

You bet this guy was real fun at parties.

As you roll your eyes, you pat along his stomach again, trying to figure out just what is keeping him in place.

You hear another noise from the Foreseer but decide to ignore it and instead, you have a teasing look on your face. “That’s your punishment for being impolite.”

“A punishment?” You finally hear some emotion in his voice, though it’s annoyance mixed with a hint of disbelief.

“Aren’t you furious? You are being treated like a plaything.” You tilt your head to the side, a bit shocked that he isn’t even trying to move.

“Fury? Those sorts of emotions I no longer have any use for.”

Well, that’s just sad.

You take a few steps back once more to reassess the situation. If he can’t move, that means you have the best opportunity to grab the protocore and promptly leave.

Though it is a bit unfortunate to just leave him here, he’s a Foreseer. You’re sure Astra, at least, values His emissaries enough to pardon a small mistake like this.

You reach up to grab the protocore once more, confident you’ll be able to take it but, once again, a ball of ice comes toward your hand and knocks you off your feet.

You land on the freezing cold stone floor, your face close to smashing against the bottom step that led up to the throne. You quickly look up as ice erupts from behind the Foreseer’s throne, and your eyes widen as you watch the frost disappear from his limbs. His gloved fingers twitch around his scepter.

He…can move?

Ah shit, you need to get out of there fast.

As you scramble to your feet, the Foreseer is already standing up and taps his staff against the ground.

“I’ve played enough of your little games. You forget yourself, testing the limits of my benevolence.” He starts walking toward you and you fall back down to your knees, seemingly unable to move as your legs felt like jelly underneath you. As he swings his staff, bright blue light swims around his body and you tense up.

You’ve got to calm down and get ready for a fight. You lift your arm up in front of you and spit out a quick response, “I-I am his majesty’s envoy! You can’t kill me!” Though, the man scoffs, “An honest death is not a suitable punishment for every pretender.”

Wait, does he know you’re not from the castle?

Before you can react, a cold sensation coils around your feet. You look down and see frost climbing up your legs.

“Tell me, do you know the fate of thieves who sought the Creatio protocore?” He asks. The ice soon reaches your neck and it’s like a cold hand that’s tightly gripping your throat.

That’s kind of hot—

Without sparing a glance, the Foreseer walks past you and he disappears into the shadows…

“Wait– Where are you going, Foreseer? Mm..!” The crystals cover your mouth, sealing it shut and you feel panic beginning to sink in. You couldn’t breathe, your body felt so cold and heavy…You could feel your eyes sluggishly, slowly closing and you really hoped everything would be okay the next time you opened your eyes…

You woke up to a bright light shining behind your closed eyelids. Sunlight drifts through the windows adorned with brambles and roses.

He…left you here for the whole night! At least you weren’t dead, but still.

The Foreseer sits on his throne, reading a book. The sun’s glow casts an illusion of softness on his otherwise cold demeanor. You clear your throat, deciding to strike a conversation with your would-be killer, “...Foreseer? Uh, a fine morning we have today. Isn’t the weather great–”

But the moment the latter leaves your lips, a frigid snowstorm begins to brew outside before promptly subsiding.

Okay…so he has control over the weather. Isn’t that just lovely?

Other than that, he doesn’t look at you. It seems he won’t even give you a chance to explain yourself. “So…You’ve been encased in ice for ages, but you still read on that throne…Shouldn’t you be tired of the world’s greatest chair after staying there for hundreds of years?”

“You may try it yourself and then inform me of your findings,” He says without looking up from his book, turning the page with his index finger.

“No, no. I…uh, can’t feel my body at the moment,” You sheepishly laugh off your panic of not being able to feel your limbs.

It’s honestly a bit terrifying.

“I have yet to eat anything after entering the Tower of Thorns so could I…” You try to choose your words carefully, yet he still doesn’t look up. “A human can survive for seven days without food.” He plainly states, “Given your stubborn character, you should live for an extra two days.”

“You’re…not going to leave me frozen for nine days, are you?” You ask, your aching and stiff neck straining to look up at him from his throne. Your throat choking up as your eyes begin to water at the thought of dying in this way.

“Are those tears of your remorse?”

No, they’re tears of someone who was supposed to die years down the line, now only given nine days. Idiot.

“I… Look, I’m not his majesty’s envoy,” You sigh. “I’m here to ask for a prophecy of my future. Every prophet I consulted said I had three years left to live and I refuse to believe them.”

This finally makes him look up from his book.

“I’m telling you the truth this time...” You trail off, a bit embarrassed that you’re talking about your fear of death with a seemingly immortal man.

“Indeed, they are delusional.”

“Huh? Have you scryed my fate, Foreseer?” You seemed a bit hopeful with an excited look on your face.

“To disguise yourself as the king’s envoy and sneak into the Tower of Thorns…You certainly have less than three years.” The Foreseer leans back on his throne and crosses his legs.

“Foreseer, you can’t– mmph!” Ice covers your mouth again and he continues his reading.

A seemingly endless silence returns to the throne room...

Nightfall greets the Tower. Taking the place of sunlight, moonlight shines into the room. Today is the first day of your punishment for entering the Tower of Thorns. You’ve come to that realization after being frozen here. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much, but it’s not like you knew he could do this to you.

It is nigh impossible to warm the heart of a demigod who lives in these rime-kissed lands.

In the middle of the night, you’re suddenly awoken by a radiant flash. Golden words float before you. They are magics cast by the Foreseer’s book.

What…is he looking for?

The Foreseer stares at the words, brow furrowed. It seems he’s not happy with what he’s seeing.

You squint from the light and try to clear your blurry vision by blinking a few times. Then, you clear your throat as if to let him know that you are awake, though he remains unmoving.

“Do you wish for your mouth to be sealed once more?” He questions and you pause before quickly speaking, “That’s a book about gardening, is it not? I also adore flowers.”

His wintery gaze falls on your face, he clearly doesn’t trust you. “Your mouth is only capable of spouting nonsense.”

“I’m not lying! I used to be a gardener. Every flower I care for turns out splendid.” You tried to speak excitedly with your hands, but they were still as frozen as ever. The Foreseer stops what he’s doing.

The sharpness of his gaze pierces you, trying to gouge the truth from your head.

“Did I…offend you?” You ask after a moment of silence. Though, he looks away. You think for a second that the conversation is over, but, with a lift of his finger, the ice on your body begins to melt. “Is...my punishment over?” You ask, rubbing your reddened hands together to try and warm them back up.

Though, as your body has been frozen for almost two days now, you end up falling to the side. Your elbows cracking against the floor.

Ouch.

“If you desire it, then I shall indulge you.” He closes his book. The words of gold dissipate and the room is plunged back into darkness.

Once your eyes readjust to your surroundings, the Foreseer has already descended from his throne. “Come then.” He motions for you to follow and then begins walking toward a spiral staircase. You shakily stand up and quickly follow behind him.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the top while he is unfazed. In the distance, snow-capped mountains are like white seashells. You realize you weren’t brought up here to admire the scenery, however you can’t help but take a few minutes to gaze upon it in awe.

Then, you notice a tiny white flower bud between the bricks. “Why is a jasmine growing in a place like this?” You question, confused at how this flower could be trying to grow here of all places.

The Foreseer’s frigid gaze observes your every action as you carefully examine the bud. “There’s something wrong with it. I doubt it’ll bloom any time soon.” You sigh, fingers brushing against the fragile little thing.

“Will you be able to care for it?” He asks as you consider the possibilities, but he seems to predict your next action. He moves toward you, looking into your eyes, “Answer me.”

“Y-yes..! Of course. It’s a miracle for anything to grow here. Without a competent gardener tending to it, the bud will inevitably die.”

You emphasized the phrase “tending to it” and glanced at the man’s expression. He gazes at the bud and touches its small leaves, “If this jasmine blooms, you may leave the tower with your livelihood intact.”

You’re not sure if you’re imagining things, but it seems like the Foreseer holds the jasmine in higher regard than you.

For now, in order to buy yourself some time and an opportunity, you have to say yes.

“Alright, I agree to your terms.”

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! I don't really have much to say this week tbh but thank you for over 500 notes on my newest drabble!! I didn't expect for it to pop off this much, but I'm glad you all enjoyed it 🩷

I'll be working on a personal project this weekend, but I'm going to try to write a few more chapters for ToF and maybe one chapter of Divisa— I'm not sure just yet on the latter, but I'll give it a shot!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

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