#so there were always those unanswered questions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unequivocallyreid · 4 months

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Do You Get It Yet?

hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.

warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation

this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!

You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.

Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.

You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.

You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.

So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.

You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.

Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.

“Dr. Reid?”

He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”

“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”

“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”

This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.

“Thank you so much.”

You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.

He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”

You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”

You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.

“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”

You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”

“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”

He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”

Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”

He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“

Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“

He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”

He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.

“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”

Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.

“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”

You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”

You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”

“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”

This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.

Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.

You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.

You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.

Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.

You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.

You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.

“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.

“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”

He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”

This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.

“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.

The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.

Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”

You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”

He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”

You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.

Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.

So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.

It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.

You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.

Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.

“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”

“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, Lena.”

“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”

You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”

You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.

After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.

You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.

You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.

You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.

As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.

Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.

Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.

When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.

With shaking fingers, you text him back.

You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.

You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.

Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?

You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.

Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.

When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.

It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”

“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”

“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”

You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.

The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him

Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.

The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.

He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”

It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”

He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“

“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”

You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.

He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”

You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.

“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”

“Spencer.”

You look up, “What?”

“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”

You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.

The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”

Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”

The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.

“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

“It’s wrong, Y/n.”

“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”

Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.

His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”

“I want all of it, doctor.”

The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.

You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.

You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.

“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”

He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit

together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.

You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.

“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked, huh?”

You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.

“Is this all for me, Y/n? Who’s making you this wet?”

“You, sir, only you.”

“Jesus, baby.”

If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.

His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.

“You’re so big.”

He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”

You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.

“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”

Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.

“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”

You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.

He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch out this pussy for me.”

With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, puppy. Letting your professor fuck you with his fingers.”

You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.

“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”

Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.

Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.

“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear? You really are desperate for me, huh?

You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”

You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.

He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.

In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”

You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.

“I could play with that pussy all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”

You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip

slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.

You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”

The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.

Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.

“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Love how deep it is in you. Can’t even talk you’re so fucked out.”

His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.

“Please, need it. Need you.”

He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.

“So perfect for me. Gonna fuck you dumb, puppy.”

You whine at the nickname, you didn’t even know you were into that.

“You’re just sucking me in, Y/n. Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.

“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”

“That’s right. Come all over this cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.

“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”

You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”

He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.

“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this pussy mine.”

You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.

“Gonna come, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come in your perfect fucking pussy.”

You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.

When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.

“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.

“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”

Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.

When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.

In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”

He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t know why you wouldn’t.

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.

“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”

You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”

He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.

“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.

You feel him hold you a little tighter then.

“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”

END!! i hope you all love it!

tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #fic rec #professor!reid

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hannieehaee · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if I could request a scenario(or reaction) where maybe you had a day planned with a member but they canceled to hangout with the guys, not realizing it was your birthday. I love your writing and angst so this would be perfect 4 me 🤭 thank you!! (Also for the member, maybe hhu 👉👈)

them accidentally ditching you on your bday - hhu

hhu, vu, pu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, mingyu's is a teeny tiny bit suggestive (they're mentioned to shower together, but nothing sexual occurs), etc.

part 2

wc: 2903

a/n: sorry it took me so long to get to this T-T i liked the prompt so i wanted to write something a lil longer hehe anyways tysm for reading and for requesting <3 pls lmk if anyone wants a vocal/perf unit version!

masterlist

seungcheol -

seungcheol always had a tendency of being a tiny bit extra when it came to his birthday. he expected all friends and family to be punctual on that day with a gift and some heartfelt congratulations. if you didn't wish him happy birthday at 12am on the dot, you were just not that good of a friend to him and he'd remember that moment with disdain.

in the same way that he was extra on his own birthday, he liked to do the same for his closest loved ones. he was always ready at 12 o'clock with some words of love and appreciation ready. he'd have had the gift ready months in advance. even on other people's special day, he wanted to stand out a little; show how good of a friend he was. there were no questions to he made about your birthday. you, his favorite person in the world. if he was ever going to make a day special, it was that one. he would count down the days until its arrival. it was always such a sweet gesture from him, you thought. which was why it was very weird of him to not be present right now. or all day, for that matter.

it was your birthday. you had planned this day with seungcheol a few weeks in advance. all you wanted was a calm day with your boyfriend, even cancelling plans on friends and family who had also wanted to keep you company on your special day. you were originally just going to eat a nice dinner with your boyfriend on whichever day of the week you had off that week, not minding whether it actually fell on your birthday or not. but your boyfriend had insisted on celebrating on the exact date, even telling you to call off work, claiming he would do the same once the day came. except those plans seemed to fall through.

you'd gone to sleep a bit early, deciding not to wait on your boyfriend to arrive from dance practice and just sleep in preparation for whatever cheol had planned for tomorrow. you assumed he would wake you up upon his arrival, which wouldve been a bit before midnight. you'd woken up confused when you had looked at the clock the next morning and noticed it was 6am, not having been awoken by him, nor spotting him in your room. he always left before you woke up, but today was supposed to be a day off for him, so it was all very odd. it continued like this for a few hours, until you gave up on waiting for his arrival and just called him. it was only 10am by now, so maybe he had left for some preparations not expecting you to wake up so early, but your phone calls went unanswered. for hours. it eventually became the afternoon. you had given up on calling him at around 2 oclock, realizing he just wasn't going to show.

by 5pm, you were beyond sad. the same man who whined and pouted at you if you dared wish him a happy birthday at 12:02am had also forgotten your birthday, clearly not even having called off of work that day (you'd checked his location some hours back, he was at the hybe building). he hadn't even bothered to check his phone all day either. you weren't usually one to get emotional, but this felt like a punch in the gut. you had gone out of your way to spend the day with your boyfriend, having been promised an amazing day, but were now just some forgotten rag, less important than his usual work day.

he arrived a little earlier than yesterday. whenever he left early in the morning, he arrived in the afternoon. it was now 6pm, and you had spent the whole day moping. you grabbed the cake you'd both left in the fridge a few days back, not caring anymore and just eating it out of sadness. that might've been cheol's first guess upon walking in, as you saw his smile fall the moment he landed his eyes on you, 'happy birthday' cake sitting across from you on the coffee table.

his eyes widened at the realization, and much more at your dejected appearance, "oh my god, babe, i'm so-"

you sighed, "you don't have to say it."

he quickly approached you, dropping his bag and coat before having hung them upon his entrance, "no! fuck, i'm so fucking sorry. i have no idea how it slipped my mind, i- i forgot to call off in advance, and it threw off my entire schedule. i swear i just forgot, i'm so fucking sorry, baby," he was rambling now, probably realizing how let down you were by his slip up.

"it doesn't matter, cheol. it's just a birthday. i'll just ... i'll just celebrate with my family next week or something. don't worry about it," you knew you didn't mean your words, but you also felt it useless to try and blame cheol.

"wait! it's only six. we can still do something! do you wanna go out? i'll take you to dinner. how does that sound?"

"i ... i don't really feel like it, cheol. i think i'll just go meet up with a friend. she called me last week asking to meet up, but i cancelled on her. i just wanted to wait for you to get back before i left. i'll see you in the morning," you knew you were being a little immature, but if he had wanted to be with you, he would've put in the effort.

"oh. you're sleeping over? but i thought ..."

"yeah. i'll just see you tomorrow when you get back from practice. yeah? bye, cheol."

you left without saying much else, feeling guilty at his look of rejection. you felt badly about leaving him on his own like this, but you knew there was no way for you to spend time with your boyfriend right now without feeling like an idiot.

wonwoo -

wonwoo had never felt like more of an asshole.

wonwoo had never been too big on birthdays, specially his own. to him it was just another day. it was only his family, friends (and carats, of course) who ever made that day special to him. if it had been up to him? he would probably even forget about the day, but he had the fortune to have a lot of people in his life who loved and cared about him enough to cherish that day as if it were a national holiday. and you were one of those people. you would always shower wonwoo with love, but you'd go a little extra hard on his birthday, catering to every need you think he may have and even going as far as creating an entire itinerary of things he enjoys to do throughout the day. you were a little ray of sunshine that would somehow make him look forward to his birthday, something very uncharacteristic of him. which was why he had never felt like a bigger asshole than right now.

today was your birthday. a day which wonwoo had looked forward to for two years now. he had wanted to celebrate your following birthday with you, maybe plan something elaborate for you for once, but he had unfortunately been on tour at the time, causing you to be separated during that day. this only made him want to put even more effort into your birthday next year, which was now. today. the day in which he had ultimately forgotten your birthday.

there was not much to it. he had a nice day planned for you. he wasn't too good with surprises, so he had let you know in advance, allowing you to prepare yourself accordingly. you both had work that day, so he had planned a candlelit dinner for you, having even learned how to cook your favorite foods just to add that extra layer of care. the original plan was to come home from work early - earlier than you - and follow the recipes he had gone over with mingyu a few times over the past few weeks. it was simple, concise and direct. there was very little room for failure. but it had still somehow managed to slip his mind. he wanted to blame mingyu for his insistence in going back to their shared apartment after practice, something about some game he wanted to show him. but he couldnt blame his clueless friend, it wasnt his responsibility to know your birthday. he'd sworn he would only stay for an hour and then promptly leave to go home to you, but one hour turned into two and then three. it was a genuine slip of his mind, but that didn't make a difference.

wonwoo was quite surprised upon picking up his phone from where he'd left it charging upon arriving to his apartment, not realizing it had stayed on do not disturb the entire time. he was welcomed by a myriad of messages from you, all of them ranging in emotion.

from jagiya 💘:

(4:25) nonu?

(4:25) are you coming home soon?

(5:07) okay, its been almost an hour now. is everything okay?

(6:35) baby?

(6:48) i tried calling you already. where are you?

(6:48) just checked ur location and ur at ur apt. did you forget?

(9:02) it's been over two hours now ...

(9:15) okay, nevermind. don't come. we can just do this another day.

(9:16) i'll be out with some friends. goodnight.

his heart dropped more and more the more he read. he immediately went to call you and spam with responses, but found no reply from you. it only served him right. he would now spend the rest of the night dreading how to make it up to you, feeling the worst guilt he'd ever felt.

mingyu -

you'd always thought of mingyu as one of the sweetest men alive. he had helped you restore your faith in humanity, seeing him as the prime example of what a man should be. he was the most selfless person you'd ever met. ever since you'd begun dating (and even before that, if we're being honest), he had always been at your beck and call, providing you with anything you could possibly need. he'd love and take care of you in ways that you hadn't imagined possible. you'd never been disappointed by mingyu. but now you realize maybe you had flown too close to the sun. mingyu was just human after all. you shouldn't have felt as disappointed as you did. but you couldn't help your emotions, nor did you want to blame yourself over this.

the issue at hand was, today was your birthday. today, at least basing it on prior years, was always filled with the utmost love and affection a person could ever experience. all courtesy of one kim mingyu. he would wake you up with breakfast, rush you into the shower and hold you close to him as he washed your hair and whispered words of affirmation in your ear. he would proceed to take you somewhere pretty and have a full on photoshoot as he hyped you up from behind the camera. he would plan some special outing for the evening and end the day with a moonlit dinner from the beautiful view from his apartment's balcony. it was always such a dream. but this birthday in particular had been the outlier.

he unfortunately had a comeback on the same week of your birthday, causing his schedule to be more hectic than usual. he had a few things scheduled for your birthday itself, but knowing mingyu you knew he would at least come home to you that night and shower you with as much love as his exhausted self could. but that never came. you waited and waited, knowing mingyu's day had ended hours ago. at some point you simply gave up and called him, wondering where he was, if maybe something was wrong. however, his response was one that left you feeling dejected, something mingyu had never made you feel.

"gyu? where are you?", you'd said as soon as he picked up.

"hm? hi, baby. i'm at the shared apartment. wonwoo hyung wanted to leave early today. what's up, baby?"

not even a quick 'happy birthday'? did he really not remember? you felt kind of embarrassed at having gotten your hopes up for yet another year of special treatment from your boyfriend.

"uhh, nothing gyu. just checking in. are you staying there tonight?"

"yeah. thought it'd be easier since it's a bit closer to the company than your place. is that okay? sorry, baby. i shouldve let you know beforehand," even when he was unknowingly hurting your feelings he managed to be a sweetheart.

"it's fine, gyu. have a goodnight. you must be tired."

"okay, pretty," he giggled boyishly at the phone, fully clueless of your feelings, "sleep tight. love you!"

"yeah, bye."

you'd never hung up on him before a quick 'i love you' before. it mightve a dumb thing to even care about, but you knew that to mingyu's romantic nature it meant everything. which is why you weren't surprised when twenty minutes later your phone began to be flooded by calls and messages from the man, at first wondering why you had hung up like that, only to then evolve into him begging for forgiveness as he explained that he had forgotten your special day, and that it had taken wonwoo's reminder that your birthday fell this week for him to realize his mistake. but this was now his problem to deal with. if he wanted forgiveness, he'd have to come and get it.

vernon -

vernon had a bit of a tendency of being forgetful. it only came hand in hand with his tendency of being a little distracted while out and about. he wasn't careless by any means, but he could sometimes be too in his own world to notice what happened around him. which would sometimes get him into hot waters with you.

he hadn't noticed your hints, he swears! he didn't hear the suggestive tones nor the subtle nudges you'd been giving him for the past month. he hadn't thought much of it when you began texting him about places you two should visit soon, nor when you'd began to talk more about certain interests you'd been having as of late. he had just assumed you were trying to make conversation, so he treated it as such.

when your birthday had actually come, vernon hadn't known it was anything other than an ordinary day. he woke up, making sure to not wake you in the process. he'd gotten up, headed to the company, and followed his regular schedule. it was a particularly busy day, so going on his phone had been mostly out of the question. the two of you weren't really in the habit of texting much throughout the day, usually choosing to just catch up with each other at night when you could lay in bed together and dissect each other's days. he spent a majority of the day fully disconnected from outside contact, focusing solely on the harsh new choreo they needed to memorize for next week's awards show. he knew you were aware it was a busy time of the year for the industry he worked in, so he felt it fine to stay a little extra time today without messaging you first. this was something that happened from time to time anyway, so it shouldn'tve been a problem, right? or at least that's what he thought until he finally plucked his phone out of his bag, where it had been hiding the entire day.

from: baby 😖:

(9:23) u left so early :((

(9:23) shouldve woken me up so i could say goodbye!

(12:58) nonnie, it's been a few hours now ... did u forget something?

(1:20) no reply still?

(1:21) did you actually forget? :(

(1:21) i've been hinting at it for a month. i thought u were being obtuse on purpose :(

(1:48) can u at least come home a little early today? im sure soonyoung wont mind

(2:35) okay, ill take that as a no :(

(4:48) hansol ...

(6:12) okay, i guess you're gonna be home later than usual today.

(7:10) it's my birthday btw, in case it didnt click by now.

(7:16) maybe you should stay at the dorms tonight. not really in the mood for you to spend the night. im sorry. love you

fucking hell. vernon had never felt like more of a careless asshole. he had spent the entire day away from you, completely clueless to the fact that it was the love of his life's birthday. you weren't one to ask for much, so he knew a simple happy birthday accompanied by even just his presence for a shared meal wouldve been more than enough to make you happy. but his stupid distracted self couldn't even muster enough care for that. he wasnt sure what to do now. should he go to your apartment and beg for forgiveness? or stay here, like a dog with his tail between his legs as he pondered some way to make it up to you? all he knew was that he messed up. hugely.

a/n: i hate writing unresolved angst but uhh yeah if u want a pt 2 lmk <3

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen angst #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt angst

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

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This Broken Body

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/N: Kind of a part two of ‘Shedding Season’ but with Reader

TW:Broken bones, blood and use of medical drugs

After getting off work you meet some unfortunate people who were after your boss but turned their attacks to you instead. Luckily you have a very powerful Overlord who is protective over you.

You shook your head as you limped into the Hotel trying to fight off your exhaustion and how your vision wanted to fade out. The adrenaline was wearing off faster than you wished now you could feel how you could barely put pressure on your left leg. Blinking you watched as Charlie ran over to you,her hand accidentally applying pressure on your side causing you to yelp loudly and fall backwards onto your ass. Why could you taste blood? Why was the room spinning? Why did Charlie have horns and why was Alastor there? So many questions that got left unanswered as your vision went black and you promptly passed out on the floor of the foyer.

When you woke up you were groggy and whining from the pain but you could hear light jazz play, looking around you were in your bedroom but Alastor had made his presence known with him humming along to the tune, carefully sewing your favorite jacket back up, his eyes glancing at you for a moment. “Sleep well?” He asked softly as if not to scare you but you still jumped as your groggy mind was slipping in and out of sleep. “Yeah…What happened, Al?” You slurred out internally grimacing from how you sounded.

“You passed out in the foyer, Dear. I’m wondering the same thing as Charlie, you have the poor girl in a tizzy.” He hummed out looking back at the now sewn hole in your favorite jacket. Your lucky jacket as you would call it. He ran his fingers across the familiar pattern of the little microphone you had hand sewn for him. “Got jumped after work..” You called out whimpering as you tried to move. Immediately he was by your side moving a pillow under your leg that was now in a cast and helped you get comfortable.

“Now, no need to move your leg needs to heal as well as your ribs.” He hummed out, he’ll be feasting on the ribs of those who hurt his doe to this degree. “Sorry Al...Sorry you have to see this broken and weak body.” You whimpered out tearing up. His undead heart squeezed at the sight of tears in your eyes, his clawed hands carefully wiping them away. “No, you’re not weak, Dear. You’re as strong as can be, a wolf amongst these sheep.” A tired smile graced your busted lip letting out a low chuckle.

“I won’t stop you from going after the people who jumped me, Al..but just come back to me?” At those words his heart skipped a beat and with a kiss to the head, he whispered “Always Dear~” Before he melted into the shadows to go find those poor unfortunate souls who decided to prey on you. No one messes with the Radio Demon’s Partner and gets away with it. As you were drifting to sleep thanks to the medication Charlie had thankfully gotten for you as well as some soup in your stomach, the radio that sat on your dresser turned on with a loud ear piercing screech Alastor’s voice cutting through as he welcomed everyone to a new and exciting broadcast, you tuned out of most of your beloved’s dialogue but shook back awake hearing screams of the sinners who had jumped you. Their begs falling on deaf ears as meat was ripped from bones and bones snapped easily.

And then as soon as it started the broadcast had stopped with a soft, “And to my Beloved, rest up now. I’ll be home soon.” Then soft jazz started to play. The same soft jazz that had lulled you to sleep every time he played it.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader

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yanderenightmare · 2 months

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L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged.

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts.

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.”

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yandere L #yandere death note #yandere dn #yandere l lawliet #l lawliet #death note

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alwaysmoncheri · 2 months

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𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary: during your time at hogwarts, you and james dated months before he dated lily. but now, after graduation, you find yourself looking for him in every place and you have no idea he’s doing the same.

cw: fem!reader, crying, mentions of alcohol/bars, angst(lots of it), comfort, remus heavy(who's complaining?), break-ups, lily is not hated on nor super liked, lightly proofread, 1.9k

remus watches you as you walk to the bathroom, a frown forming on your face. you sift through your purse, struggling to find a cloth to wipe the spilled wine on your shirt, freshly washed for this occasion. you’ve been less happy lately, remus notices. maybe it’s because he’s persistent about you joining him on his outings and he always seems to catch you at a bad time, or maybe it’s because there’s something going on that he doesn’t know about. either way, he misses the way you used to be, before you and the rest of your friends graduated. you haven’t kept in touch, remus is the only thing still keeping you attached to your friends at hogwarts, which you don’t mind. you like his company. and you can’t deny, there’s still a part of you that misses those friends, but they only serve as a reminder to your heartbreak in the middle of your seventh year.

you knew james had been pining after lily, merlin, the whole school had known. yet, you still dated him, because you were in love with him, but you knew the whole school pitied you. watching as he sat next to you, while his gaze lingered on her. even james’ friends knew it was wrong, was he playing with your heart or did he genuinely not understand his own feelings? and did he even love you in the first place? those unanswered questions still bother you even if it’s been a few years. your heart still aches and a lump still forms in your throat at the mention of his name.

so when remus mentioned his name just a few moments prior, you freeze. you excuse yourself from the conversation to grab yourself another drink from the bar, but on your way, a man, around your age bumps into you, spilling his drink on your shirt. he immediately apologized, reminding you of the way you and james had broken up. apologies, spilling off his lips to make up for all the times he chose lily instead of you.

“I just don’t think you love me.” you shrug, gathering your items from the boys’ dorm room to bring back into yours. you’re breaking up with james, tired of his obvious pining after lily while being in a relationship with you.

“what? who told you that?” james asks, panic setting in his eyes as you watches your movements closely. your back is to him as you gather up a few of your clothing items from his set of drawers.

“you did, james.” you sigh, knowing this conversation was going to get you nowhere as you turn to meet his worried gaze, “you love her. we all see it.” you add, attempting to keep your voice calm and making your way over to the door.

“no I don’t,” james claims, grabbing your wrist before you can make your escape and avoid watching as you break his heart,“y/n, please, I love you.” he pleads and the slight crack in his voice causes you to let him pull you back.

“you don’t look at me the way you look her.” you say, savoring the warmth of his hands as they run up and down your arms for the last time.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” james cries, tears falling onto his face, while they prick in your eyes, “please, i’m so sorry.”

“you don’t love me like you love her.” you add, lifting your head to meet his gaze and watch as james’ heart breaks. but, when you turn to leave, you remember that he broke your heart first, you assure yourself that you’re doing the right thing.

“i’m sorry.”

james’ last apology arrives in the forefront of your mind when the young man spills his drink on your shirt, offering to help you clean it up. if it had been any other day, maybe when you first graduated, and were ready for a new relationship, and some fun, you would accept his help. you would probably share a few drinks, a few laughs, and possibly end up in his bed. but these past few weeks have been tough. the day james picked up the phone instead of remus, changed you. you want to tell remus about the situation but you’ve felt it’s better to just keep it a secret. you and james’ relationship is in the past and you plan to keep it there.

when you finally make it to the bathroom, you quickly grab a few paper towels, running them under the water, before dabbing the front of your shirt to rid yourself of the stain. your movements become more and more aggressive with every moment while tears welt up in your eyes, threatening to spill out and add to the disaster of your appearance. you place your hands on the sink, struggling to keep yourself stable. suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, a warning that someone is entering. you quickly grab another paper towel and dab your eyes, attempting to make yourself presentable and still failing to do that. when remus pokes his head inside, eyes are wide and stature slightly ridged but as soon as he sees your face through the mirror his eyes soften and he slowly walks into the bathroom, coming over to lean against the sink next to yours, while turning his head to face you.

“are you okay, y/n?” remus asks, voice soft, gently prying at your secretive demeanor as of late. you nod your head, wiping your eyes one last time before reaching for another towel to blow your nose, and when you do, remus hands you one with a sympathetic smile.

after blowing your nose you throw the towel in the trash, along with all of your self pity that you were previously feeling. turning to face remus, you notice his watchful gaze, full of concern and confusion at your unusual actions. in a couple quiet, quick steps, remus is standing right in front of you, his hands on your arms, causing you to flinch and step back unintentionally. remus instantly removes his hands, patient and trying hard to understand.

“talk to me, lovely.” remus urges delicately and your gaze shifts to the ground in response to the nickname james used to call you, “i’m your best friend, right? you can tell me whatever is going on.”

“i’d rather just go home,” you reply weakly, refusing to meet remus’ gaze, “can you take me home?” you ask, and remus nods without a word. he offers you his hand, which you take, allowing him to lead you out of the bathroom and towards the exit of the swarming bar.

remus watches as your gaze shifts around the room and he realizes he has never seen you like this, so broken, so dim, no joyful light behind your eyes like there used to be. not even when you first broke up with james. it still doesn’t dawn on remus that his friend’s sudden reappearance in your life is the reason for your sadness.

you walk slightly behind remus, your hand loosely tangled with his. the two of you exit the bar and you exhale a sigh of relief, finally allowing your lungs to breathe in some fresh air. the autunm night is relatively warm, but still a cold chill nips at your bare arms and the wet patch of wine on your shirt. you don’t ask for remus’ jacket but the shiver that runs along your spine and the goosebumps on your skin ask him for you. within a second, his jacket is around your shoulders. you tug it closer putting your arms through the sleeves, all while thanking remus in the form of a murmur. he nods and offers a tender smile in return, you’ve been friends with him too long for him not to notice that you greatly appreciate his gesture, even with your gloomy mood.

the rest of the walk to your apartment is silent, at some point along the way you let go of remus’ hand. you felt like a bad person imagining his hand as someone elses even if the two of your were just friends. it still felt like a betrayal of sorts. when you approach your door you prepare yourself for the rest of the night ahead before fishing out your keys from your pocket and unlocking the door. remus stands beside you, hands in his pockets, feeling guilt ridden for bringing you out of the comfort of your bed. you used to be the one doing that for him, so he thought he’d do the same for you, but maybe right now you just need some space.

when you’re done unlocking your door you shurg off remus’ jacket and hand it back to him, “are you going to be okay if I leave you alone?” he asks, carefully taking his jacket from your hands and neatly draping it over his arm.

“I think so,” you reply, your voice sounding a little steadier than earlier, but you feel like the opposite, “thank you remus.” you say sincerely, stepping forward to give your friend a quick hug.

“of course,” remus whispers into your hair before pulling away and allowing you to head into your apartment, “call me if you need anything.” remus adds, and you nod, sending him a weak smile before closing the door. you want to call remus, you have never felt like you couldn’t, but now, you’re afraid to.

you immediately head in the direction of your bathroom, desperate to take a relieving shower and rid yourself of the now, permanently stained shirt that you’re wearing. when you reach the bathroom you catch your appearance in the mirror and you find yourself looking slightly better than you did at the bar, but still not your best. you seemed to be your best when you were dating james. you sigh, realizing that another thought of james just crossed your mind. you just can’t get him out of your mind. he knew you better than anyone, better than remus, who he’d introduced you to, and better than any other boy you’d ever been with. you’ve kissed so many others but james knows how to touch you that makes your skin crawl, and he knows how to make you blush with one word or one glance, he knows your nervous ticks and your over excited antics. he knows you, he knew you. and you haven’t changed much.

you peal away your clothes and step into the shower, hoping to scrub away your thoughts and the entire night in general. the shampoo smells sweet, so sweet that it reminds you of the day james kissed you suddenly after spending the entire morning at honeydukes. it was the beginning of your relationship, before the fact that he was pining after lily had caught up to you.

standing in the shower you smile to yourself, that moment a reminder of how great james treated you. sometimes you wish you hadn’t broken up with him, and when you climb into bed and can’t fall asleep, you feel like you’re seventeen again, loving james potter with your whole heart. but the truth is you’re not, and the sad reality of your life comes crashing down on you. you convince yourself in this moment, laying in your bed, that you have to let him go for the last time because you’re the one who called it off, therefore it’s your fault that you’re not together. but the only closure you seem to find is you having to remind yourself that he broke your heart first.

next chapter . masterlist . james potter masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @googie-jeon

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lemonlover1110 · 10 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 8] Unanswered Questions

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru never thought that he’d be in this spot. He’s watching the woman he once loved or– His feelings are all over the place right now. He just knows that you’re treating him like a complete stranger. Although he can’t be mad since he asked for professionalism… You just treat him like you absolutely have no clue about him. Like you didn’t grow up together.

He can’t be mad. He asked for it. He tries not to think about it but he can’t stop. His eighteen-year-old self would be kicking himself if he knew about this reality. He really thought at eighteen that at this point of his life he’d be married… Which he is, but not with you. You were supposed to be together with a kid by this point, but now you’re playing secretary, one that acts as if you don’t know anything about him. Basic things about him seem to have slipped your mind.

He tries not to dwell on it… He doesn’t love you. At least not how he did five years ago. He’ll always have a soft spot for you, after all, you are his first love. He can’t help but wonder how life would be if he was married to you right at this moment.

“Mr. Gojo, I’m leaving.” You have to repeat yourself because Satoru is out of it. You walked in and he didn’t notice you, and he didn’t hear your voice the first time. His eyebrows raise, looking at his watch before nodding. You begin to walk away and he’s watching you.

“Actually–” He begins, making you stop. You turn to look at him, “Would you like joining me for dinner?”

“What for?” You respond. You’ve been working together for two weeks, and as much as you wish to say that you’ve grown close, you really haven’t. Satoru bites down on his lip, and he ends up shrugging. “I would rather not. Sayo is really sweet… But your mother isn’t exactly–”

“Why did you go to her? What happened to your studies?” He asks. Those questions bug his mind. When he left you, he thought that you’d be fine at the very least. You were studying to be so much more than what you are now.

“Not everyone is born with a golden spoon in their mouth. A lot came up in one moment and I couldn’t afford to study. It wasn’t because I decided that working for your mother was worth it.” You answer, leaving out the obvious details. Satoru slowly nods his head, and he clears his throat before speaking again,

“Well… I was asking you to dinner alone. There’s a new restaurant just around the corner and I don’t want to try it out alone.” He says, and you titl your head.

“What for? We have nothing to talk about, it’d just be awkward.” You respond, and his finger begins to tap against the hardwood desk. You try to smile at him but it comes off as insincere. “Thanks for the offer.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot for us to unload… And since we’re working together, I think it’s best we get along.” He answers, and his hand begins to shake. He hides it under the desk so you can’t view it. The confident Satoru that he usually is isn’t all that confident now.

“I think it’s best if we don’t. That’s too personal considering we’re just working together.” You respond. He doesn’t have an idea but it seems that you’re desperate to leave, and it hurts him. Back then you would’ve jumped at the opportunity of having dinner together since you barely had any time to spare.

“It’ll just be for a short while.” He insists. He’s used to getting his way, he did grow up spoiled. He’s not stopping until you finally agree.

“Look, Satoru, I know you want to continue whatever you had with the previous secretary, and let me tell you this– I’ll remember our past for a minute or so. I’ve had you, and I don’t want you anymore. I have no idea what you have in mind but it’s not going to work with me.” You tell him, and he’s taken back by your response, but of course, he really wasn’t expecting much different. “Just let me go back home, I have a cat that’s waiting for me.”

“Why is this stupid cat so fucking important? I just want to talk.” He responds. He stands up from his chair. “It’s just dinner, the cat can fucking wait for an hour or so. There’s so much to talk about.”

“I’m the one that has a lot of questions that need to be answered, and I don’t want to hear it. I just want to go home, Satoru! Just leave me alone.” You slightly raise your voice, clearly annoyed. You just want to go home and see your son. “We have nothing to talk about. We must keep it professional.”

“You’ve grown so pathetic… Really, over a cat?” He pushes it, and it makes your blood boil. He’s simply just confused. He swore you were a dog person, but he guesses you’ve changed.

“Are you jealous over a fucking cat?” You question in disbelief. His jaw clenches, and he tries to take a deep breath. You have to remind him, “The fact gets priority over you. He always will. At least Ren didn’t fucking leave me and got married two months after you asked for a fucking break!”

“I–” Satoru can’t find the right words to say. Blood flows everywhere and Satoru’s face is flushed. He’s not sure what to say to that. “I had my reasons.”

“Then I have my reasons to not have dinner with you. If you’d excuse me, Mr. Gojo, I have to go home.”

Satoru’s mind feels as if it goes a thousand miles per hour. He’s thinking about you. You’re right, you’re rightfully upset but he’s so irritated with the fact that you’d rather spend the night with a fucking cat than have dinner with him. It’s on him– He knows it’s on him but he’s not thinking like that.

“Hey, Satoru. How was work?” Sayo asks when she spots her husband. He’s not really in the mood… His feelings toward Sayo are weird. Sometimes he thinks he loves her, sometimes he can’t stand her. Tonight is one of those nights where he can’t stand her. He can’t even stand to look at her. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Where’s my mother?” He responds, and she shrugs. Of course she doesn’t know, Sayo and his mother don��t really get along that well, at least that’s what it looks like. Sayo is about to ask a question but he walks past her, completely ignoring her. He goes straight to his mother’s bedroom, and he presses his ear against the door, and once he hears her footsteps, he barges into the room. She’s startled, her hand going over her heart before she looks at her son who clearly isn’t happy.

“Satoru? You look mad, everything okay?” His mother sounds genuinely concerned.

“Why the hell did you hire her? I thought you couldn’t stand her. At one point you were begging for me to break up with her.” Satoru asks, and he tries to keep his cool, to not lose control, but it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard. “You’re just fucking with me.”

“She needed a job, I couldn’t just–”

“You do it with everyone else! Why do you suddenly care about her?” Satoru cuts her off, and maybe he could’ve worded it differently. He doesn’t want you to be jobless, and as you’re right, he was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, he doesn’t understand your struggles and he doesn’t want to leave you without a job just because he’s… Mad at you. “Why did you put her as my secretary? Couldn’t you just leave her with Shoko?”

“You needed someone and she was available.” She answers, but that’s not good enough. She must have an ulterior motive, even if it’s his mother. She’s cold hearted enough to hurt him, and it’s so upsetting to think about because that’s his mother. “I don’t see the big problem… What’s wrong?”

“I was planning on getting married to her! And this is the stunt you pull?” He’s raising his voice, and his mother doesn’t like the tone that he’s picked up. Her arms are crossed and she raises a brow.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” She tells him, causing him to roll his eyes. “You’re in my house.”

“I’ll be moving out soon! And I’ll get a new secretary.” Satoru responds, causing her to scoff. The arrangement that’s happening isn’t permanent either way, the moment that Satoru finds a new secretary, you’ll go back to Shoko. They’re throwing you around as if you were a ball of sorts.

“What the hell did she do to you… Why are you so upset?” His mother asks, curious as to why he barged into her room. He hasn’t cared up until now. Satoru shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck, too embarrassed to admit anything. He just doesn’t know how to handle this rejection.

“I just don’t get it. You were so set on us being apart and you do this?” Satoru’s voice is laced with disappointment. He’s never really counted on his parents for any type of support, they were always absent. He counted on you for a big part of his life and when he didn’t have you, he only had his mother. He hoped that he could finally count on her for once in his life, but he can’t. He wants to fall to his knees and cry because he doesn’t understand why his mother is doing this to him.

“Satoru, you wouldn’t understand.” She says.

“You did this to me, don’t you forget.” He points his finger at her before he walks away. He doesn’t understand why he’s on the verge of tears. His own mother is making him work with a woman that he once loved– Or loves… He still can’t figure it out. Seeing you every day is bringing back his old emotions, and he doesn’t know if he’s actually in love with you or not.

“Everything okay, Sato–” Sayo begins as Satoru walks past him, and she can’t even finish her sentence before he’s gone. He doesn’t care to stop, stomping away from the place.

She slowly blinks, watching her husband walk away. She ends up shrugging before leaving to do something else.

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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eternally-racing · 4 months

Text

slip | lando norris

genre: angst + fluff

wc: 1k

warnings: none, there's maybe like 1 swear I think

summary: on a tough race weekend in qatar, you want to be there for Lando

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“What went wrong today in the car Lando?”

You watch your boyfriend on your TV screen as your heart sinks when he says “Nothing, just a lack of talent”. You know it had been a tough string of races for your blue-eyed boy, and this definitely wasn’t the first and would not be the last time that this happened, but you could tell something about this was really getting into Lando’s head.

I’m sorry about today, Lan. Give me a call whenever and we can chat <3

You sigh as the message only tacks onto the last 3 unanswered messages you’ve sent to him. It’s not intentionally malicious, it never is with him. For so long Lando felt alone in the karting world that he got in the habit of getting in his head over a race weekend, and even with all the work you two have put into your relationship, sometimes he slips right back into those bad habits on those hard days. This wasn’t something you were going to let your boyfriend go through alone though, and that meant calling in some reinforcements.

"Congrats on the first win Osc!"

“Thanks Y/N :) I know that’s not why you’re reaching out though…”

Classic Oscar, you chuckle to yourself. He really is wise beyond his years. If anyone would be able to help you help Lando, you would hope that it would be his teammate.

“It’s bad with him right now, isn’t it?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it still offers a glimmer of hope that maybe you’re being the overdramatic girlfriend and Lando’s actually fine. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be further from the truth when Oscar messages you back.

“It’s really bad, Y/N. None of us know what to do. We need your help”

That’s all the information you need before you’re setting your master plan into motion. You’re stuffing clothes into a duffle bag, calling in sick to work, and booking a plane ticket to head to Qatar yourself. There was only one moment of hesitation in the airport of “what the hell am I doing” before you look down at your lock screen of a smiley Lando out in the water in Bali. You wanted to bring that smile back so badly, and you hoped that this would be able to do that. Oscar is gracious enough to help you out with all the details of the team’s schedule for the weekend and the details of their hotel, but once you’re standing in front of Lando’s door the reality of the situation really hits you. You’ve come off nearly 12 hours of travel in one of Lando’s old sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, you haven’t looked in a mirror in equally as long which cannot be a good sign, and most of all you have no idea what you’re going to say to him once you see him. It had been a dream of yours to surprise Lando on a race weekend before - you had always imagined hiding in the driver’s room before FP1 and maybe pulling a cheeky prank or two when Lando showed up, but you had never prepared yourself for something like this.

The key card to Lando’s room lays heavy in your hand, but you want to see if Lando will just open the door for you instead. The sound of your three quiet knocks on his door seem to fill the empty hallway, but you don’t hear any shuffling inside.

“Hey Lan, it’s me.” are the only words you muster before you hear a clatter from inside. Your heart races as you can hear the click of the lock on the door. It’s truly like a scene in a movie, like time has slowed down for just the two of you. Lando rubs at his eyes like he’s seen a ghost, and it’s only when you reach out to touch his cheek does Lando realize that holy shit, you’re really here. He pulls you into his arms so tight that you feel like you can barely breathe and that’s when you hear it. Lando’s not just crying, he’s sobbing into your arms. The dam had finally broken and Lando had someone he could share his burdens with. You’re not sure how long you two stay there like that, Lando’s tears wetting the shoulder of your sweatshirt, you rubbing his back while whispering sweet nothings to him. Your boyfriend clings to you like he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he lets go, and there’s now a comfortable air between you both. Once you finally pull away and can get a good glimpse at each other, it really sinks in for you that Lando is finally in front of you. While the point of this trip was of course to support your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny that having a long distance relationship for so long had taken a toll on you as well and you were thrilled to finally see him again, regardless of the circumstances.

“Wow Y/N, you look…”

You chuckle and finish Lando’s sentence off for him. “Like garbage I think are the words you’re looking for, Lan” you say as you pick off a piece of cat hair from your sweatshirt that only serves to further prove your point.

“Beautiful, I was gonna say beautiful” Lando says softly, “but honestly I look like a hot mess right now so maybe we’d make a more perfect pair if we go with your description”. He gives you that cheeky smile that you’ve missed so much as he finishes his sentences, and before you know it you’re both giggling like teenagers together. For a moment it feels like you’re just regular Lando and Y/N on the couch back in Lando’s apartment fighting over what movie to watch on Netflix, not like you’re both in the middle of one of the most stressful race weekends of Lando’s career so far.

The rest of the evening is filled with comfort and joy, and when Lando drives to P3 all the way from starting in P10 tomorrow, you’re the first person that Lando searches for in the crowd. A “thank you” is all that he musters out while you’re in his arms, but you can see from his eyes that he means so much more than that.

#f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando fluff #lando angst #ln4 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #formula 1 #lando #ln4 imagine

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cherryrainn · 3 months

Text

I'LL NEVER LEAVE .

; pairing ; adam x reader

; note ; request i got on wattpad!

; warnings ; manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, deceit, loss of loved ones

adam wouldn't stop asking you to go on a date with him.

he had been asking you incessantly, his golden eyes pleading with you to give him a chance, but something deep within you hesitated.

you knew adam's reputation – his arrogance, his ego. and while there was a part of you that was intrigued by him, another part of you just didn't wanna deal with all of that.

"come on, babe, just one date. that's it!" adam pleaded, his voice carrying a hint of desperation.

you sighed, trying to keep your composure as you declined once again. "i'm not interested."

his golden eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and frustration crossing his face. "not interested? but i'm the first fuckin' man, the perfect one! you won't find anyone better!"

you shook your head, dismissing his claims. "it's not about that, adam. i just need some space."

but adam, fueled by his arrogance, persisted. "space? space? you're in heaven bitch!; you're like surrounded by it! just give me a chance."

every time he asked, you found yourself declining, citing one excuse after another. you couldn't bring yourself to say yes, couldn't bring yourself to take that leap of faith.

defeated by your consistent refusals, adam's expression shifted from desperation to anger. "fine, whatever, whore. if you don't want the perfect date with the perfect dick, your loss," he spat, his words dripping with arrogance.

then he walked off, saying a bunch of stuff like "i don't even fuckin' care" even though he clearly did.

after that, days passed, and the people you loved were starting to vanish. it started small, a friend here, a friend there.

at first you just shrugged it off, thinking they were busy or something.

but soon, it became a mass disappearance. everyone you loved was gone. and strangely, adam was nowhere to be found.

alone and desperate, you wandered the empty halls of heaven, the once celestial glow now replaced by an unsettling void. everyone was still there yes, well. mostly everyone. the people you loved and cherished were still gone. and that made it feel empty.

desperation gnawed at your spirit, driving you to seek solace in the one place you never thought you'd turn to – adam.

he had disappeared along with the others, his absence leaving a void that echoed with unanswered questions. but in your desperation, you sought him out, clinging to the faint hope that he held the answers you so desperately sought.

you found yourself standing outside a familiar door – adam's. hesitant, you knocked, the sound echoing in the empty corridor.

the door creaked open, revealing adam's masked face. there was a calculated innocence in his eyes as he feigned surprise. "well, if it isn't my favorite bi-.. angel! what brings you here?"

your desperation spilled out in a torrent of words. "everyone's gone, adam. i can't take it anymore. i need someone, and you're the only one left."

adam's mask of indifference faltered for a moment, replaced by a calculating gaze. "well... shit! come in," he replied with a mocking smirk, inviting you into his space.

you poured out your frustrations, ranting about the loneliness that had consumed you. "i thought i could handle it, but it's too much. i need someone, adam. i need you. you're the only one that i'm actually acquainted with that's still here." you cried, tears practically waterfalling.

his golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he let you vent, the mastermind behind the disappearance of everyone you held dear.

with a gentle sigh, adam allowed you to hug him, relishing in the success of his twisted plan. he held you close, his presence a balm to your wounded soul. "you'll never be alone again, y/n," he whispered, his words a promise wrapped in deceit. "i'll never leave you like those dumbasses did. i'll always be here for you."

and as you buried your face in his chest, you couldn't help but believe him, the echoes of his manipulative words drowning out the whispers of doubt that lingered in the recesses of your mind.

in that moment, you were his – bound to him by the chains of manipulation. and as adam held you in his arms, you knew that you were lost, a pawn in his twisted game of love and betrayal. but, you couldn't bring yourself to care

he would never admit to his sins. he would never confess to the darkness that lurked within his soul, for in your eyes, he was the perfect angel, the first man, and he would never hurt you like everyone else did.

#ADAM #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #y/n #reader insert #x reader #request #yandere #hazbin hotel

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aphroditelovesu · 3 months

Note

Hai, do you take request for Enola Holmes? If so could you do a headcannon for Yandere husband Sherlock holmes x Young Duchess Of Somerset who is a very wealthy, prestigious, powerful and Influential woman in England?

(Both in headcannon and Boi, please)

❝ 🔍 — lady l: I hope you like it, anon! I certainly enjoyed writing it and here is the link to his bot :) have fun and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: stalking, mention of kidnapping and death and unhealthy relationships.

❝🔍pairing: yandere!sherlock holmes x female!reader.

Sherlock Holmes never planned to get married, too focused on his work to even think about the possibility of getting a wife and having children. He always kept that thought in mind for a long time, until the day he met you, the Duchess of Somerset.

During an investigation, Sherlock had to go to a ton society ball to get clues and with the money and fame he had, it wasn't difficult. He just didn't expect to find you there, so beautiful and surrounded by flatterers. Holmes did not expect to be taken away the way he was by your smile.

You changed his way of thinking very quickly, leaving him intrigued and a little curious. Who were you, anyway? And why don't you get out of his thoughts? Endless, unanswered questions were all Holmes had.

Sherlock did extensive research about you and your family. You came from a noble and powerful family, very rich and prestigious and there were many benefits to marrying you. Several young nobles had their eyes on you as your title and powers were very tempting. This made him furious.

They were all leeches who only wanted you for the power and riches that came with it. They could never appreciate you the way he would, they couldn't worship the ground you walk on the same way he would. They would never be as good to you as he would be.

Sherlock wasn't sure why he felt this way about you, but he knew he couldn't allow you to marry one of those unworthy fellows. He had to have you, it was a need, a desire that dominated him completely. You would be his, he would be sure of that.

He was quick to pursue you and court you. Being the excellent detective that he was, Sherlock quickly discovered all of your interests and places you used to go to and he consequently started appearing in those places and talking to you. He knew he shouldn't seem crazy, so Sherlock was kind and showed an obvious interest in you.

It didn't take long for him to become in love with you, even with the dark and unhealthy feelings taking over his mind, Sherlock still remained the same with you. You also fell in love with him gradually, he was handsome, kind and not a brainless sycophant. He was everything you could want in a husband, so when, one autumn afternoon, he asked you to marry him, you happily said yes. Holmes smiled at this, everything was going the way he planned.

Fortunately for your family's life, they had no problem accepting Sherlock into the family. He was a good suitor and had good fame and fortune, so he was good to marry you, the Duchess of Somerset. Sherlock was happy about that, satisfied with the fact that he wouldn't have to convince your family in less orthodox ways.

Life with him was good and Sherlock was a good husband by the standards of the time. He was faithful to you and loved you deeply. You never thought a husband could love his wife as much as he did, but Sherlock was one of a kind. He made you feel loved every day, every little bit of you was adored by him. He loved the ground you walked on and did everything he could to make you happy.

He spoiled you endlessly, anything you wanted he would buy for you. Even if it wasn't necessary due to your status, Sherlock still loved giving you gifts. Your wardrobe grew a lot after your wedding and there were many times when you only wore a dress once out of the many you received.

Sherlock was very protective and slightly possessive over you, but he won't let you down. He will vent his jealousy and fury in other ways, he could never think of upsetting you with that. But his overprotection could be suffocating, as he made a point of personally taking care of his safety and he was constantly attached to you. It was part of the job, he would tell you.

He would teach you self defense if you didn't know. He knows it's dangerous, but Sherlock wants you to know how to defend yourself in case he can't protect you. Especially when you were pregnant, he wouldn't take any risks.

Being the Duchess of Somerset and having so much power and influence wouldn't stop Sherlock from pursuing you. He might have some problems with that, since due to your heritage he could never kidnap you because he would be discovered, but he would deal with it. After all, you are his and he is yours. And when he became your husband, he swore to himself that he would never stop loving you and he would never let you go.

You are united until death, at the end of it all.

#enola holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #yandere enola holmes #yandere sherlock holmes #yandere Sherlock Holmes x reader #yandere sherlock holmes headcanons #x reader #yandere headcanons #headcanons #romantic yandere #dark!sherlock holmes

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buckybabesonly · 5 months

Text

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: He promised you forever and a day.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.4k

Cold dinners, unanswered texts and overwhelming disappointment in your heart.

Just a standard Friday night, really.

You sat on the couch with your knees drawn to your chest, eyes fastened on the clock hanging opposite you. It was taunting you with each tick, tick, tick as you clenched your jaw and willed your phone to light up with a message from him.

You should be used to this by now. It happened so often that it would have surprised you more to actually see Bucky arrive home in time for dinner.

You knew it would be like this when you first got together. But after almost four years, it didn't make the disappointment sting any less. You knew he had bigger things to be doing - he was out saving lives and helping people. Yet a tiny, selfish voice in your mind wished that you could be placed as a priority for once. It felt like you spent half your time nowadays just waiting. Waiting for his call, waiting to spend time with him, waiting for something to give.

When the clock reached 11, you sighed and realized that it was going to be one of those nights where he'd stumble in at three in the morning, exhausted, or maybe not at all.

You packed the dinner you had made into a Tupperware box, pasted a sticky note on top with a message for your boyfriend when he returned. Reheat me for 3 mins! Love you ❤

It really was tough. It was one of those nights where you ended up staring at the ceiling of your bedroom in the dark, hot tears seeping silently onto the pillow beneath your head as those unhappy, insecure thoughts reared their head in the usual routine.

It was always this thick silence in the middle of the night that haunted you the most. It allowed you to be truly alone with your thoughts, and you had a lot of them.

You used to be so happy with him. And you still were, in a way. You felt so unbelievably lucky to have Bucky in your life, to be the one that he loved. And yet it was undeniably getting more and more difficult to ignore the problems that came with dating someone who did what he did.

The end to those upsetting thoughts came just as dawn cracked through the Manhattan horizon and you heard those tired, weary footsteps into the apartment, the sound of heavy combat boots being shucked off. Your eyes were closed, but you could visualize the way he silently crept into the room so as not to disturb you. You felt the tension leave your body when he slipped into the sheets beside you, and you instantly curled into his side like a cat.

"Did I wake you?" He asked quietly, his voice hoarse. He still smelt like blood and dirt, but you didn't mind.

"No," you whispered, your fingers grasping fistfuls of his shirt.

The relationship was unconventional and hard work, but you lived for the moments where Bucky came back home to you.

You stood on the snowy sidewalk, staring into the windows of the jewelry store wistfully. Diamond engagement rings stared back at you, glistening in the sunlight, dazzling you with their splendor.

More and more of your friends had been getting to that stage in their lives where they were becoming engaged, getting married, having kids (and some divorces, too). Every other day, it seemed like a new relationship milestone announcement was being made on your Instagram feed.

You were always being grilled by your friends about when Bucky was going to 'pop the question'. Your response was always a demure laugh and a joking retort of, You'll have to ask him!

But honestly, you weren't sure if that was where you were heading anymore.

Your relationship had never been conventional, and you knew what you were getting into when you and Bucky first started your relationship. Bucky didn't have a 9 to 5 job where he could come back home every night and help cook dinner with you and go to bed at the same time, make you breakfast in the morning and walk you to work.

It was never going to be like that.

So what did your future look like?

You trudged home in a slightly downcast mood, paper bags of groceries in your arms as you sighed.

You hadn't seen much of Bucky at all in the last few weeks. He had been out on a mission in Quebec, but he was going to be back tomorrow. A smile suddenly bloomed on your face - he was going to return just in time to celebrate your fourth year anniversary tomorrow.

I wouldn't miss it, my love, he had whispered on the phone to you two nights ago.

There was a new bounce to your step as you continued on to your apartment. You decided that you had to try and stop worrying so much about the future and just be grateful for each day - he was your Bucky, and that was enough.

Bucky was late.

He was supposed to arrive back at the apartment this morning, but he had sent you a couple of text messages at noon, your heart sinking.

Hey - have to stay in Quebec for a couple more hours. But will be heading back very soon.

Your reply was a hopeful, You promise?

Promise.

You remained hopeful even though there had been radio silence since. Bucky had never let you down on celebrating special occasions before - come rain or thunder, you knew he would make it back to you.

Or maybe that's what you used to believe.

You weren't sure what you believed now, as you sat inside the French restaurant opposite an empty chair, your nails tapping the tablecloth anxiously.

You clutched your phone in your hand like a lifeline.

I'm at the restaurant. Are you on your way? You texted him desperately, willing for him to suddenly appear in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and an apology on his lips.

Maybe you just loved torturing yourself. Living on whatever thin strand of hope was thrown your way, like a lifebuoy whilst you struggled to keep your head above the water.

Half an hour passed, the server with a sympathetic gaze coming over after 45 minutes and bringing you a starter and a glass of champagne on the house.

Your cheeks were burning, your chest tightening with such pain that you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Finally, you called it a night and got into a taxi to take you home. Your feet hurt in your stupid heels and your dress felt too tight and uncomfortable, your heart hurting so much that you thought it might burst.

Surprisingly, you managed to hold the tears in. You held them in all the way up until you reached your front door, stabbing your key four times into the lock before you managed to open it, your hands shaking.

You wanted to slam the door back into it's frame as soon as you were in the safety of your home, and gasped when a gloved hand appeared out of nowhere to block it. You stumbled back, almost falling when Bucky materialized in the doorway, his arms holding you to steady you instantly.

"I'm so sorry." They were the first words out of his mouth as he kicked the door shut behind him, holding you close against his body. "I am so, so sorry."

You were quiet, your head unable to process his being in front of you when you had such crushing disappointment inside you from being stood up on your anniversary. Tears were silently running down your face as Bucky's grip tightened around you, your eyes staring at nothing.

You weren't even listening even though he was speaking endless reasons and explanations for why he was so terribly late, why he had been unable to text you back to let you know he wouldn't be able to make it in time. He was out there as usual, saving other people, being there for other people.

Not you.

"Call me selfish," you began eventually, your voice cracking. You peeled yourself away from Bucky, staring up at him with eyes that made his breath hitch. He could see the pain in them, the utter exhaustion in your gaze. "But I just... I wish I had you all to myself."

Bucky's face fell. He knew how you felt, and it destroyed him to see the way you stared at him now. He could feel how limp you were to his touch, and it suddenly scared him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I know I let you down. There was nothing I could do. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

You almost scoffed at that word. Promise.

"That's the thing, Buck," you said sadly, taking another step back. His arms fell down to his sides. "Your promises don't mean anything."

He looked crestfallen at your statement. His lips parted as if he wanted to argue back, but you continued forcefully.

"How many times have you promised me that we'd be able to go on that trip together? How many times have you promised me that we can do a proper date night? How many times have you promised me that you'd be home for dinner?"

Bucky's lips pressed together in a stiff line. You had been angry at him before, of course you had. But what he noticed right now, overwhelmingly so, was that you were tired.

"I'm so... I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"What do you mean?" Bucky spoke then, fear creeping into his voice at your words.

"Look at me, Bucky," you half-laughed, gesturing at yourself. Your mascara was running down your face, you had kicked your heels off on the floor, you felt so ridiculous in this stupid dress that you had meticulously picked out for your special night with him. "I'm so sick of always being let down. I - I don't know how we can have a future together. I don't want to spend four more years not knowing whether I can expect to see you come home."

"We have a future together," Bucky retorted, his eyebrows furrowing. "I can't see a future where you don't exist."

"Can't you?" You shot back, honestly bewildered. "Do you really imagine us having a normal life together? Can you imagine us being married, having kids, settled down in a home that you're not always running away from?"

"Do you think I enjoy doing what I do?" Bucky asked, a flash of anger entering his tone.

"Actually, yes, I do!" You exclaimed truthfully. "You're hard-wired to fight and protect, Bucky. You need to help people. It's what you do."

Bucky was immediately quiet. You had hit the nail on the head. Fight and protect.

"I've barely seen you this year, Bucky. You've spent so much time out there on missions and saving the world and - and that's great, Bucky. Really, I am so proud of you. But you have to understand that I have things that I want and I'm not sure you can give that to me."

You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. This was really how you truly felt. The dam had broken, and you had finally told him what you had been thinking.

You loved Bucky with all your heart. You loved him so much that the thought of losing him was excruciating.

But you couldn't run away from reality. You didn't think you could live the rest of your relationship like this.

"Do you think you could change?" You whispered, your eyes welling up again with tears. "Could you give up being a hero and stay by my side instead?"

Bucky's hands were clenched into fists by his sides as he stared at you. You couldn't decipher his expression, and you wished so much you could climb inside his mind and know what he was thinking.

"I love you," he said eventually. Your heart splintered with longing.

"That doesn't answer my question," you said sadly.

There was a long stretch of silence that filled the apartment. Eventually, he spoke.

"I don't know if I can change. I - this is what I do. I have to help people. There are people who need me."

What about me? You wanted to ask.

You nodded once.

"I love you," he repeated again, pleading.

"I love you too," you said, your lower lip trembling. "I love you so much."

Bucky had brought you so much joy. Every stolen second with him, every smile shared, every memory was a blessing. He was everything you had ever dreamed of and somehow even more.

But it wasn't enough.

"I know what I want, Bucky." Your voice was shaking. "Once upon a time, I really thought that we could have that. But the longer I spend in this relationship, the more I realize that those thoughts are futile. I'm chasing something that I will never have."

Bucky wanted to fall onto his knees and beg for you to stay. He really did - he wanted to hold your hands in his and beg you not to leave him. That he didn't know how he could live his days without you.

But he knew what you deserved. You deserved someone reliable, someone you wouldn't have to wait on. In front of his very eyes in this moment, he could see the product of his neglectfulness towards you. He could see the agony in your face, the weight of the disappointment he'd caused in every tear track on your skin. The epiphany hit him like a crushing weight to the chest.

If there was one thing Bucky always wanted to give you, it was happiness. He wanted to make you as happy as your existence in his life brought to him.

Maybe, in a twisted paradox, he would have to let go of his to be able to give you yours.

If Bucky could go back to the night you first met, he would have stared at you from afar, traced your profile with his eyes, admired the gentle curve of your nose and the color of your lips. He would have felt his heart still the moment you turned and met his stare with a shy smile.

But instead of approaching you and introducing himself, he would have forced himself to walk away if he had known the pain he would bring to you.

If you could go back to the night you first met, you wouldn't have believed the love that would grow in your heart for this man. The impossibly potent feeling that was larger than life itself.

You used to believe that your love for one another could overcome anything.

You realized that wasn't true on that very night, when Bucky left your home and you remained standing in the darkness, alone once more.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #sebastian stan #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky #bucky barns x you #marvel fanfics

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zooone · 9 months

Text

as above, so below

╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.

one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.

all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing

she had a lot of questions about wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"

all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.

to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.

unless he had something to do about it.

he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.

"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"

"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.

"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.

her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.

she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.

"why not, wilbur?"

he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.

"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.

he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.

"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"

they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.

he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.

"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.

he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.

but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.

the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.

"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.

"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.

yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.

he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.

he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.

that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.

"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.

"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.

"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.

he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.

"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."

"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."

quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."

wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.

it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.

"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"

he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.

"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.

"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"

"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.

wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.

he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.

he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.

he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.

and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.

the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.

"wilbur!"

and his routine was ruined.

"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"

"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."

wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.

"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.

and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."

wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.

instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.

"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."

wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."

he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"

wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.

he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".

he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.

he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.

he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.

as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.

from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-

"wilbur! there you are!"

he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"

he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.

"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"

before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.

she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"

"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."

she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."

"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.

she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.

what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.

"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.

she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."

wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.

she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.

"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.

"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."

"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.

he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.

"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"

"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.

"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"

he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."

"right now."

as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.

there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.

"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.

"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."

he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"

she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."

he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.

"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.

she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."

the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."

"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"

"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.

he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.

she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."

"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.

"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"

he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.

"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"

why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.

"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"

he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.

"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"

wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.

"it's.. it's fine."

he definitely blundered.

he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.

she leaned forward. "how is it?"

it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.

"it's.. okay, i guess."

"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"

he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.

"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.

"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."

she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.

there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.

he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.

"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"

at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.

he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.

he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.

he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.

wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.

he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.

he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.

he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.

it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.

he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.

he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.

he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.

wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.

he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.

tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.

"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."

wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.

"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"

wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.

that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."

"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"

"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.

"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."

wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.

"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."

he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.

wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.

there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.

shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.

"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"

wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.

"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"

he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."

she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?

"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."

wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"

"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"

"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."

he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.

in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.

the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"

"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.

as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.

it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.

that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?

but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.

it was her flower crown and gummy worms.

wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.

he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.

he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.

but, she still cared about him.

wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.

he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.

he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.

he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.

sure enough, it was from her.

"dear wilbur!

hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.

i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.

it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!

ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"

he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.

it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.

as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.

"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."

"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"

oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?

tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"

"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."

"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"

"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.

"do you have a date?"

wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."

"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"

wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"

"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"

wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.

"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."

tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.

"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"

wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.

he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.

wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.

he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.

he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.

he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.

it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.

he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.

still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.

he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.

his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?

although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.

wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.

"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"

tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."

quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”

“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”

they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.

he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.

“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”

tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”

tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.

quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.

“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”

“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”

“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."

"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."

as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.

“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”

wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.

when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”

“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”

“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”

“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”

“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.

“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”

“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”

“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.

“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”

the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.

“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.

“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”

wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.

his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.

uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.

his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-

"do you have a favorite flavor?"

it all snapped away.

"uh- um, well, um-"

how was she able to do that?

"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."

unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."

"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.

shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.

"do.. do i bite-"

"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.

god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.

he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.

and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.

he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."

"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.

as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."

"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."

his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.

it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.

and the worst part? she noticed.

"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.

"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."

she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.

wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.

she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.

in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.

"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.

"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"

"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.

his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”

he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.

she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”

wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.

he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.

he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.

she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”

her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”

“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”

his heart was wrapped in thorns.

it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.

“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”

her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.

“except for you.”

she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.

“me?” he whispered softly.

immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.

“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”

she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.

“it was all i wanted in that moment.”

his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.

“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.

in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-

“but you always hated me.”

she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.

and the worst part; she was unphased.

wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”

“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.

a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”

“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"

what?

"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”

his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.

she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.

“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”

he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.

why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-

oh.

it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.

the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.

his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.

"hello? wilbur?"

"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.

"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.

"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.

his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.

"wilbur-"

"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"

and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.

his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.

he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.

tommy's keycard.

he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.

he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.

he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.

to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.

"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"

"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.

with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"

"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.

she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.

as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.

"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"

his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"

"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."

"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"

she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.

"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"

"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"

at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.

and he almost didn't catch her.

tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.

"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.

"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"

he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.

did he not remember? or did he choose not to?

when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.

"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"

"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"

"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."

"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.

a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.

"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.

and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.

her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.

but what if it really was a trick?

her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.

she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.

she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.

as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.

quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."

his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.

but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.

and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.

wilbur's day went on horribly.

he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.

his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.

work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.

he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.

but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.

"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"

was it?

"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"

it couldn't be.

"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"

he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.

he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.

worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.

she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.

not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"

and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.

one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.

unless he's got the courage to do something about it.

11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin

thank you so much for your read, i appreciate all of the support <33 a part two is indeed coming soon!! stay tuned

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imaginesmai · 2 months

Text

His precious treasure - Eris Vanserra

First time writing for Eris! Let me know what you think

Plot: Beron manages to ask the right questions at the wrong moment, making Eris suspicious of your safety. His hidden treasure in the forest, where he cannot get fast enough.

Warnings: mention of torture, death and blood.

His steps resonated through the long corridor, servants and guards bowing to his presence. They never met his eyes, not even when he was just a young prince who barely reached their waists. He used to fool himself thinking it was out of respect, out of fear. But Eris had learned that it was easier to ignore the problems of their loved court, the abuse, when they didn’t look at him.

Countless times he had walked down those corridors with blood streaming down his face, bloody nose and bruised eyes. Burned flesh and peeled skin. It used to bother him their indifference, but that day, he barely paid them any attention.

All his focus was set in leaving the palace he called home as soon as possible without looking suspicious, without letting anyone know the terror that threatened to paralyze him.

Eris could feel his eye bruising, the burn marks on his back and chest from his father later outburst. He didn’t mind the abuse, could endure it just fine. What was breaking his soul in two were the answers his father looked with that abuse, and that he had managed to hide. But Beron was asking questions he shouldn’t have been formulating.

“Tell me, my son. Why do I keep receiving notices of your disappearances? Why are my guards worried that you might be lacking in your efforts to keep this court standing?” Beron had asked before backhanding Eris in his office. “Should I be worried about your not-so-subtle trips to the forests?”

The excuse had fallen from his mouth naturally, like he had always planned. Testing the borders for possible threats, assuring the outer posts were functioning correctly, searching the ground with his hounds.

Eris had swallowed every hit and humiliation with a tight jaw, only answering when he was spoken to. He had closed you off the bond and hoped to be strong enough for you not to notice. Then, Beron’s had asked him that damned question and his resolution had cracked.

“You look distracted lately, maybe that’s why you keep forgetting to update me about your whereabouts” Beron snarled, as if the sight of the blood spilled by his hand unsettled him. Then, he locked his eyes with Eris and fire danced behind them, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s the recent lack of servants what has your mind busy. Strange and unexplained disappearances, right?”

He was sure Beron had bought his indifference, or he wouldn’t have let him go. But he still raced through the hallways, a bad feeling twisting his gut. Running would catch too much attention, yet he knew leaving after his father’s questions was an answer by itself.

Eris prayed to the Cauldron, to whoever had unanswered his prayers through his life, that he arrived to the cabin with enough time to make things right. If Beron was asking about missing servants, he could only be talking about you. The kind-hearted lesser fae who had the misfortune of being his mate.

Three years ago, Eris had almost burnt down the entire court one of his brothers got a little too handsy with you. As a servant, you were supposed to endure it and be thankful for his attention. But your heart belonged to Eris Vanserra in secret for almost a century, and you had denied his unrespectful advantages. That earned you a beating that had left you unconscious in the middle of the backyard, where Eris’ hounds had found you.

After weeks of healing in secret and convincing him not to slaughter his own court and find death at the hands of his father, only the promise of your safety had kept him still. He had taken you away to his hidden cabin, where you had been staying part of a cozy side-town, where no one recognized you.

Thoughts of the last three years flooded his mind as he jogged the last steps of the castle, quickly hoisting himself up in his horse and riding off into the forest. He pushed his mare to her limits, until the ground and the trees were nothing but blurry colors.

He wouldn’t waste time thinking why his father hadn’t acted yet, why he had been granted those few minutes to try and save you. The answer was clear when he smelt the uncharacteristic trace of blood in the quiet village.

Eris dismounted without stopping, his mare moving restlessly in the familiar cottage. His heart pushed furiously against his chest, blood rushing to his ears when he noticed the door hanging open by an unnatural angle. Male scents and horses’ prints were all over your hidden cabin.

“Y/N!” he screamed your name, not caring about anything but your safety. With everything about to change, he could throw secrecy as the last of his priorities. “My love, where are you?”

No answer came from the outskirts of the house, and Eris all but threw himself inside. The beating he had just endured almost sent him stumbling to the ground.

The insides of the cabin were a mess, just like his soul. Scattered papers and wooden furniture, broken plates, shattered windows. Fire embers started to fill the messy space as his laborious breathing turned panicked. He leaned against the wall where pictures lay now crooked, and tried to think what to do.

Where to look, who to kill, how to survive knowing his worst nightmare had come true. Eris had always feared having a mate, having someone to love and that loved him back, because he knew the world would take it away cruelly.

What he didn’t expect was the stairs creaking under your weight, and your disheveled head poking through the stairwell. Your eyes widened, at his state, his presence, or his blood. But he didn’t consider much apart from the fact that you were still breathing, somehow, and alive enough to be standing.

His body gravitated forward until you collided into his arms, the composure he had kept during the last hour crumbling like paper against water.

“Eris” you whispered against his chest and his breath hitched, your voice so concerned and soft against his worries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You’re alive. You’re alive” he repeated, twice, and willed himself to believe it. “I thought – the door was open, and you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer? I called. Didn’t you – didn’t –“

“I didn’t know if it was you. It’s been…”

You trailed off, it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the obvious mess. Eris pressed you tighter against his chest. Just like those nights where nightmares consumed him, where his father’s reign of terror was too much, he hugged you so tight that your bones creaked under the pressure. You didn’t mind when it was the only thing holding him together.

It was silent for no longer than three seconds, the amount of time it took for the first and only tear to roll down his bruised cheek. If he let himself any more time, if he let his guard down, none of you would make it out of there alive.

Eris ignored the rough phantoms hands he could still feel on his body, the feeling of his father’s fingers tugging on his hair and crushing his throat. His touch was soft and careful as he pulled you away and inspected you with bright eyes. Only a gash on your cheek and a light limp on your left foot. Even if your dress was stained, he didn’t find any threatening injury.

He pushed the anger once more down his chest, until he turned it into resolution.

“How many?”

“Three of Beron’s personal guard. Rookie heard them before they came and I could hide” you motioned with your chin to the enormous dog that guarded the back door, on four and alert. “She took care of the first one, and the other two… it was them or me”

“You did well” Eris whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb under the bleeding wound. “Where are the bodies?”

Those deaths would haunt you for a while. His innocent, kind mate who had been the only one brave enough to risk sending him pain tonics after his father’s beatings. Who took care of his dogs when he couldn’t leave the bed, and stubbornly stayed by his side as he pushed you away.

Eris followed you silently to the first floor, to your bedroom. Where you had spent so many nights tangled together, now three bloodied bodies stood. He could identify which one had been finished by Rookie, their face unrecognizable. His father’s personal guard embroidery stood bright on their uniform, and it threatened to make him vomit.

He fished their bodies for weapons, ignoring the urge to kill them all over again slower a crueler. When he finished gathering what was worthy, he guided you out of the room, his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t look” he advised you, pressing you tighter when your body trembled. “We’ll be okay”

You had talked about that outcome for three years, and you had spent each borrowed minute like the last one. It wouldn’t be forever, you understood, so you had crafted a plan. An emergency plan that you needed to carry out.

Eris didn’t let you take anything and you didn’t stop to grab your belongings as he lit fire to the cabin behind you. Each step you took made your knees tremble, knowing that Beron had once more managed to drown any hope in your life for your relationship.

Heat scorched both your backs as you exited the cabin, now full ablaze. Eris’ mare was dutifully waiting at the entrance, with the dozens of neighbors that were gathered in a half-circle. They all scattered when Eris walked out, and didn’t get to see how your knees finally gave out. With just one arm, he managed to keep you standing against his chest and grab the reins.

His whole body tensed under the weight of your sobs, that racked your body in sadness. Twice now, he had seen your life crumble because of him, because of who you loved and loved you back. Until Beron was dead, until his body was cold and forgotten, there wouldn’t be a place in Prythian safe from his hands.

And no matter how much it pained, only one was safe enough to last until he killed his father. Or died trying to.

“Y/N” he whispered against your sobs, against your desperation. He held you firmly as you shook your head in denial without looking up from his chest. “It’s time, my love. We don’t have much time”

Maybe his father was stupid enough to think three men were enough to kill you, but they hadn’t returned and Eris had left – and, surely, his father himself would come to end with his son’s happiness and will to live.

Shadows gathered around his feet, but he didn’t look to the owner nor acknowledge the new presences in his court, in his forest. He had long ago granted them access for that day, had supplied them information for his part of the bargain.

Rhysand and his court had kept their promise.

“I don’t want to” you cried, so hard and fearful that his resolve shook. Yet your safety, your life, had always been his one priority.

“It’s for the best. Look at me, Y/N” his voice didn’t harden, he didn’t slip into the mask he wore around them for your sake. “Y/N”

His own voice was broken too, with despair and agony. He too dreamed for a world where he could hold you freely, where he didn’t need his worst’s enemies help to keep his mate alive. But those dreams were not for people like him. Still, he held onto that thread of hope that he would make it through tonight. That, tomorrow, he would comfort you like you deserve, endure your berating about his selflessness and kiss your tears away.

When you finally looked at him, he smiled, ignoring the surprise radiating from his unusual partners. Eris waited until your sobs subsided and you calmed enough to accept the next step.

In silence, he let his eyes tell you everything he didn’t allow himself to say. How grateful he was for your soft hand when no one else dared to help you, for your patience words against his lashings when you helped him. How sorry for each and every scar you carried from his court, his brothers and father, and for not being able to give you the life you deserved.

How much he loved you, witch every fiber of his being, until he was nothing more than embers and ashes, and beyond.

Eris pressed his lips wordlessly against your forehead, his hands holding your head in place. Your own circled his scarred wrists. With the glamour off, everyone could see the scars and marks on his body. You caressed the rough skin and held him tight, until he tore apart.

“I love you. And if I die tonight, know that your love was what has kept me alive for so long” he watched your glossy eyes, your shaky lips. “I only burn for you, my little fox”

“They’re here” Azriel talked, his voice breaking your daydreaming.

A soft spark of proudness lighted in his chest when Azriel tried to gently guide you back and you brushed him off with a stern look. Your eyes, kind and loving for him, were hard and unforgiving for the spymaster. Eris knew they would treat you well, would take care of you, and was sure you would give them hell for him.

You looked at him one last time, sad resolution in your eyes, and kissed the edge of his lips before stepping away. With your torn dress and blood over you, you looked like every inch of mate he adored and cherished.

Azriel finally gripped your wrist with an annoyed frown, and shadows swarmed both your beings just as the first group of soldiers rounded the edge of the town. They wouldn’t be the problem, but the High Lord who rode behind. Eris didn’t allow any of his fears or worries show when he kept eye contact as you disappeared with Azriel.

“Come back for me” you begged him one last time, cracking once more his already broken heart. “Please, my prince. Come back”

“I love you”

He let those words be the last thing you heard from him. Eris was powerful, but his father could crush him like a leave under a boot. Maybe Rhysand would keep to his promise and keep you safe – and still loose you against his father’s armies. Eris was just happy knowing he would die knowing what being loved by you felt. How your arms felt around his shoulders, your breath against his neck.

Eris would die happy because you had chosen him when even he hadn’t chosen himself.

The sound of horses and men screaming got more intense when you disappeared, and the prince prepared himself to face one last battle. His fists lighted up with bright fire, his body vibrating with energy.

He expected a wave of angry soldiers from his right.

Not a stony-face Rhysand looking at him with a raised brow.

“You do love” he proclaimed, his voice laced with curiosity and something else. “I was tempted to believe she was just another one of your tricks. One that assured you your climb to the throne”

“I have business to attended, in case you can’t tell” Eris grumbled, letting loose the rage and anger. “So if you would be so kind, please fuck off”

The first round of autumn males broke through the left with raised swords and angry scowls. Some of them had fought by Eris’ side in the last war, some of them had been by his father’s side as he beat him.

Neither of their faces was marked in Eris’ memory, as they all vanished away to a terrible darkness that swept them off. As if they had never existed at all. The prince’s fire died down a bit as he looked at the High Lord, who had taken his hands out of his pocket and whose violet eyes were shinning dangerously.

For all explanation, Rhysand shrugged and gave away no intention of leaving with Azriel and his court.

“I made a bet on you when we made that bargain. A bet on a new high lord that would change things with me” Rhysand stared at him and Eris didn’t break eye contact, too stunned to speak. “Wasn’t certain it was the right bet, but now I am. I hope we both get to withdraw the price”

Without another word, the world was consumed in a wave of darkness, Beron’s power emerging not so far away. Eris let himself become fire in the dark, brighter than ever, and with the memory of your last smile and the possible hope of a world with you, he launched himself into battle.

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