#almost done with the entire dress tho

[londontsukino]

Slowly losing my mind doing a blind stitch hem by hand on approximately 80” of fabric. I’d ask myself why I’m doing this except I know exactly why I’m doing this.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Fourteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is readying herself for the ball. Hot Daddy Fin™️ opens up to her a little and shares some worrying truths (and then some). Azriel and Reader reunite, body and soul.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Adult content, 18+, NSFW, minors dni.

Tried my best with this part but sorry if it's a bit iffy! This girlie is ill as FUCK. Still hope you enjoy, tho, loves!

“You know, I have to admit, I was dubious at first.”

Mor is knelt at your feet, and you think this might be the closest you ever come to having a goddess on her knees before you. A strange part of you wants her to snap out and sink her teeth into your thigh, leave a bright red mark on the skin — but alas, her attention is fully on the hem of your gown.

“My uncle, love him though I do, is a calculated bastard.” She pushes to her feet, straightening out the fabric. “But I think he actually enjoys your company.”

“He does.” Roza pitches in from her place on the couch. “I know Fin. Y/N has him eating out of the palm of her hand.”

Though she smiles, her tone is laced with clear concern. Not because she cares about Fin, but because she cares about you. Doesn’t want you to forget that this is the High Lord of the Night Court you’re meddling with.

“Males are vapid and predictable, every last one of them.” You shrug your tense shoulders. “Throw them a few pretty smiles and they’ll do anything for you.”

Mor steps back, a low whistle leaving her. “Forget the males. I’ll do anything for you.”

Her eyes rake over your gown. So do Roza’s. And you…you want to crawl out of your skin and hide.

You’ve never owned a beautiful gown like this, never been able to afford one. The couple of dresses you do keep amongst your clothes are plain ones that just about do for special occasions. What hangs off your body now is…a work of art.

Almost feels like sacrilege for the beautiful fabric to touch your marred skin.

It’s sheer, showing off more than you’ve ever before dared to, and yet there’s a modesty, an elegance, to the many whorls and swirls made up entirely of little blue jewels and pearls and beads. It gives the gown a weight that makes it cling to you, and it outlines a body that…that quite frankly, you’d never considered beautiful until this very moment.

A body that commands the garment, and not the other way round. That makes you feel like far more than just another mistreated, unfavoured Illyrian female that will one day be lost to history.

This gown makes you think: I do not need the wings I have spent my life longing for.

It makes you think: There is nothing more beautiful than a good spirit and soul, and I have both.

It makes you think: Never again will anyone — friend or family or foe — make you feel less than worthy. Less than deserving. Less than strong.

You have always had strength. And this dress somehow amplifies it. Will amplify it to a room full of people who will see, through that sheer fabric, your scars, your lack of wings, and they may pity you, or not pity you at all, or may even laugh.

But you will still be beautiful.

Movement has you realising that tears have blurred your eyes. You swipe them away, and Mor is smiling at you, and Roza looks like she’s a little choked up, too.

“You are so godsdamned gorgeous.” Mor says earnestly. “Every last inch of you.”

Indeed, you glance over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, your gaze immediately finding your scars sitting brutal and undeniable beneath the sheer fabric. You don’t hurriedly force your gaze away like you have done your whole life, don’t try to avoid them.

You just…look. Look at what has been a part of you for so long, now.

“…Mor?” Roza says quietly. “Can you…give Y/N and I a moment?”

“Of course.” Mor agrees. “Time for me to find a snack.”

The stunning blonde squeezes your hand as she strolls past, and as she leaves the room, the door is pulled shut behind her.

Roza rises from her seat, making her way over to you. And as she stops before you, her hands move up to cup your face.

“Did you know,” she murmurs, “that I’ve always thought you were one of the prettiest females in all of Windhaven?” A soft scoff leaves you, but before you can glance down, she’s holding your face firmly. “I mean that — even when Azriel brought you to the cottage that very first time, and you were covered in dirt and mud, your hair all knotted, a leaf or two in there — you thanked me for feeding you, and you gave me a smile that was just like…sunshine. Such a rare thing in Windhaven. I remember thinking, this girl deserves to smile like that, always.”

A single tear spills down your cheek, and Roza wipes it away. She definitely looks like she might start bawling, too — a rare thing for her.

“I know you were never given much of a chance to feel worthy.” She whispers. “Your mother abandoning you…your father taking your wings…they were the two people who were supposed to love you more than anyone, and they broke you and left you broken.”

“You put me back together.” A lump in your throat fractures your words. “You and Rhys and Azriel and Cassian. Your love—”

“My little dove, you put yourself back together. We just loved you through it. I just want you to know that…I just want you to remember, the next time you feel worthless, that you are beautiful, and you have always been beautiful. You’re strong, and spirited, and determined. You have a resolve like no other I have ever seen, and you can do anything — which is why I know you will achieve whatever it is you’re planning with Fin.”

Only then does your gaze drop. “I only wish to appeal myself to him enough that he’ll value my opinion — that this Fenlaros business cannot go ahead. But I still feel awful…he’s your mate.”

“Gods, in the loosest definition, Y/N.” Her hands move to yours, then, liking them together. “Believe me when I say that if it weren’t for my children, I’d never see that male again. I think you know that I do not hold him in high regard.”

“I do know. But I respect you and care about you more than anyone in the world. And if you feel even a shred of discomfort about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. I’ll find another way—”

“The only discomfort I feel,” she squeezes your hands gently, “is at the thought of any harm coming to you. But I’ll feel that way through everything you do in life, because I love you. I also feel awe, because you’re brave and brilliant, and you’re doing what’s right. What I will teach this little girl,” she places your hands on her swollen belly, “to do — to stand up against what is wrong, and do so without a lick of shame.”

“I’ll protect her with my life, you know — the babe. I’ll love her unconditionally.”

“And she will love you, my dove, just as I do. So,” she steps back, eyes your dress again. A smile curves her lips. “Do whatever it is you have to do, Y/N, to change Fin’s mind — you have my full support. I only ask three things of you.”

Your expression softens. Anything — you’d do anything for her. “Of course, Roz.”

“First, don’t get caught with your scheming.” She says. “And second — you may feel like murdering Fin. Gods, believe me, I get it. But please do refrain. He’s my children’s father, after all, and Rhys isn’t ready to be High Lord just yet.”

You breathe a laugh, dipping your chin. “No murder. Got it. And the third thing?”

Roza steps up to you, her fingers finding the beautiful, jewelled material that clings to you like a second skin. She smiles.

“Go to that ball,” her fierce eyes meet yours, “and show everybody there that your father didn’t take one bit of beauty away from you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You pace the length of your room. Back and forth, back and forth. You’re restless tonight.

Day after day is swept behind you like the snow that blankets the mountains. Time is a racing thing. Starfall is fast approaching, and thus, so is the ball. But you still feel as though you can’t get a good read on Fin’s thoughts.

No matter how many dinners you share with him, how many walks through the city streets you take together, the shows you watch in the Rainbow…he does not offer you the candidness with which he spoke through that very first conversation in his study. Any attempts to talk about Tathaln, about Fenlaros, are promptly diverted. He wants to talk about you — wants to know you.

It feels like the opportunity to stop this shit show in its tracks is slipping through your fingers, and you can’t grab hold of it, pull it back.

So instead of sleeping, you think, and you pace, and you—

Gods, you just want to see Azriel.

How much space, you wonder, is enough space? You have respected his needs, have kept to Velaris, given him time to confront his innermost thoughts and feelings. But you don’t know how long he needs, and right now…right now, all you want is to see him. Look into his eyes. Hear that soft, quiet voice telling you that everything will be okay.

You need to know if he’s made a decision about Fenlaros. You’ve tried not to think about it, not to dwell on the possibility that he could choose to run from his feelings over embracing them. But the longer the silence stretches on…the more you find that hole in your heart gaping, threatening to swallow you whole.

You pace more and more, up and down in time to the ticking of the clock. It’s a wonder you haven’t worn a track through the carpet. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so antsy, but perhaps if you could just talk to Az, some of your worries could be allayed—

Before your thoughts can catch up with your body, you’re tearing through the drawers in the desk, scrambling for paper, a pen. Practically throw yourself into the chair. A letter — a letter will do the trick—

But you don’t know what to write.

You stare at the blank parchment like the words will simply appear by your willing. They don’t.

A love letter? No, no, not a love letter. Just a letter to…to remind him that you are still here. That you are reason to stay in Windhaven, and you think you could be reason enough.

Azriel… you picture him as you crawl his name. His honey-golden eyes and his silken hair. The sharp bone structure that could slice through paper, the full lips. The memory of how those lips feel is fading, and you want — need — it back. Your pen pauses, hovers at the parchment, and those lips are all you can think of, the urgency with which you crave them.

Azriel, you write again, I want to see you. I need you, too—

A soft knock lands on the door, and the pen clatters against the desk where you drop it.

The clock has just timed three in the morning — the knock is an unexpected obtrusion in the dead of night. One that makes you anxious.

But a second knock comes, and you shove the parchment and pen back into the drawer, scrambling to your feet. Perhaps it’s Roza — the more the pregnancy progresses, it’s not unusual for her to wake up in the night with need for something. You hurry over and tug it open.

Fin stands on the other side, looking…unkempt. His hair is mussed, like he’s been dragging his fingers through it. The first few buttons on his shirt have been undone, and a glimpse of a fine, chiselled chest peeks out. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He looks as though he hasn’t been to bed.

He drinks in the sight of you in your nightgown, bathed in the room’s glow. He swallows. “Forgive me, I…I saw your light on. Thought you might be having trouble sleeping again.”

You incline your head. “I was.” You admit. “…And you?”

“Too much in my head to even attempt it.”

You’re not sure what to reply with, how to help. Fin watches you closely like…like he needs to. Like gazing at you brings him comfort.

You are treading a very, very dangerous path. But you shift on your feet and ask him, “Would you like to come in?”

A tiny nudge of a smile pulls one side of his mouth up. “I was actually wondering if you’d allow me to take you somewhere.”

Your eyes widen a little. The surprise isn’t for show, and it seems to please him. “Right now?”

“The City of Starlight doesn’t sleep. Ever.”

A fact you’ve learned all too well during your stay here. There’s always some sort of activity, something going on that sends a constant pulsing through the city streets. For some reason, you hadn’t imagined Fin to be a participant in the night life.

“It’s somewhere I go when I can’t sleep.” He explains, as though you’ve spoken your thoughts loud and clear. “I think you’d like it. And from one insomniac to another, I…I would be honoured to share it with you.”

How can you possibly say no to that? For all Fin is mysterious, for all he keeps his cards tightly pressed against his chest, you truly believe that he finds a strange sort of solidarity in this one affliction that burdens you both. You may have wildly different reasons for pacing your room at night — and you’re not sure he’ll ever tell you his — but when the world is too quiet and thoughts are too loud…there’s comfort in knowing that somebody else is staring down those early hours, also.

It almost makes him seem…normal.

And perhaps that’s why you offer him a dazzling smile that isn’t entirely disingenuous. “From one insomniac to another,” you say, “I’d love to come with you.

The way his eyes light up makes you wonder if you’ve played your role, appealed yourself to him, a little too well. “Then I’ll wait here while you get dressed.”

You incline your head. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He waits patiently as you change from your nightgown into warm clothes that will shield you from the freezing night air. With no indication of where you might be going, a sweater and breeches and boots seems like the safest bet. You sweep your hair out of your face and shrug the weariness from your bones. When you emerge from the room, Fin’s gaze traces you like you’ve donned an evening gown and not the thickest layers you could fine.

“I find you so very intriguing.” He comments unexpectedly, and you’re not sure what he means.

You plaster a smile on your face, all the same. “Where are we going, Lord of the Night?”

Heat stokes his hickory eyes, and he looks as though he’s actually trying to tamp down on a broad smile. “It’s a surprise.”

You hold a hand out. He takes it. “Then surprise me.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 “Tilt your head up.” The instruction comes from close behind you. Near enough that a warm breath tickles the back of your neck. You dutifully obey. “Now, open your eyes.”

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, cautiously. What you’re met with has your next breath catching in your throat.

A dome of starlight arcs high above you. The twinkling jewels in the sky feel almost close enough to reach out and touch, and they shine brilliantly through the glass roof, an occasional transient one cartwheeling its way past in pursuit of another place.

You can only stare. Gape. Your feet move forward a couple of steps, but your face remains tilted upwards.

You were in this building only a couple of evenings before, but it had been so packed, then, so filled with music and chatter and laughter and activity, that you hadn’t noticed what sat above your head. You’d been far too enamoured with the performers, their poetic verses and fluid dances, the tragic climax that had brought you to tears.

Now, the largest theatre in Velaris’s rainbow is empty and bathed in darkness, broken only by silvery moonlight. You and Fin are the only two here. And standing on the gargantuan stage, a mass of empty, folded seats staring back at you, you have the perfect view of the night sky that gives a performance all of its own above you.

There are soft footsteps, and Fin is also stepping forward, stopping at your side. “In over nine centuries, I’ve never tired of that sight,”

You shake your head, a little dazed. You’re lost for words. “I can see why.”

“There is so much unexpected, so much chaos and burden, in being High Lord. But no matter what I may face, what choices I make, and what reactions they receive…there will always be the night sky and its stars.”

Only then do you remove your gaze from the domed glass ceiling — to drink him in and wonder how many layers deep his true heart lies. This male who is as cunning and cruel as he is handsome and charming. How many dimensions does he have that you’ve never stopped to consider?

“I know it doesn’t exactly support the imagine of a calculated High Lord who shouldn’t be crossed.” Fin says, staring had at the surface of the stage whilst a wry smile graces his lips. “Sneaking off to an empty theatre in the dead of night when sleep evades me. But I find…peace here.”

You eye the ginormous building around you, dipped in shimmering moonlight and the shadows of twinkling stars. All those empty seats, the vacant orchestra pit, the stage that has trapped so many beautiful voices and words, guided so many dances and echoed so much beautiful music. There’s a haunting loneliness to the desolation. And you can’t help wondering if…if Fin relates to that, somehow.

When you snap out of your thoughts, you find he’s moved again. Now, he sits on the very edge of the stage, legs hanging down and palms bracing him. He stares out at the rows and rows of red velvet seats, not one of them disturbed by a spectator.

You’re moving before you tell yourself to. Sitting at his side and tucking your legs beneath you. You spend a short time in still silence, but the heaviness of the High Lord’s thoughts seems to spread to every corner of the building.

“When you brought me here the other night,” you angle yourself towards him, “it was my first time in a theatre — ever. I never saw a show before.”

A very slight frown pinches Fin’s features.  He seems to consider that. “One of my flaws, Y/N, I have to admit, is that I often forget that there’s a world outside of my privilege. That people lack where I never will.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Roza was right to take Rhysand to Windhaven. He’s grown with a humility that I very much do not have.”

You snort softly. “I spend a lot of time with your son, My Lord. I assure you he’s just as capable of arrogance. I’ve kicked his ass a good few times because of it.”

A quiet laugh rasps from him. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” He pauses, and then his elbow is gently nudging you. “I told you, anyway — it’s Fin. I consider us to be friends. Don’t you?”

In some ways, you really do. Ans what a lying, using, devious little friend you are.

Especially as you scoot closer to him. And you’re softening your features and staring openly at him.

You don’t miss the way his gaze falls to your lips.

“I do.” You say, and he lifts his eyes to yours again. “And as your friend, I’d like to know what weighs so heavily on your mind tonight.”

His mile falters. And you don’t want to lose him, to let the moment slip away from you. You quickly grab his hand before he can tense up.

“I want you to talk to me…” You make your voice soft as butter, sweet as honey. “I like talking to you, Fin.”

There’s a beat. A tense one. And then his body is loosening, relaxing, his eyes becoming infinitely warmer.

His hand wraps around yours, the pad of his thumb tracing your nail. “I like talking to you, too.” He admits, and pauses again. “…War is…a great likelihood, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to go still, then, to tense up. Icy cold surprise bolts through you. That…isn’t what you were expecting.

“War?” You breathe, your mind already conjuring images of your friends on a battlefield. “With whom? When?”

“I do not know when. It could be in a year’s time; it could be in a decade. That all depends on how long it takes for humans to rise up and rally against our kind.”

“Humans?”

“There has been more and more pushback, in recent years, from humans. Humans who are enslaved by our kind and are sick of it. More and more of them are beginning to stand up against it, to protest how they’re forced to live. They’re willing to go to war over it. I don’t know when or where, but they will. In years to come, they will.”

“As they should.” You sit up straight. Perhaps it’s the wrong thing to say, but you don’t care. “They should revolt. I think it’s barbarous, the way our kind treat them. Their purpose is not to serve us. They have just as much right to live freely as we do.”

You mean it, mean it with your whole heart. You know what it’s like to be used for somebody’s personal gain, what it’s like to have freedom always lurking just out of reach. And you’ve heard about the treatment of enslaved humans. Most would rather die that live under the cruelty of their fae masters. That the practice hasn’t been outlawed utterly sickens you.

Fin says nothing for a while. His hand continues to hold yours. His eyes drink you down with a muted intensity. Like this is the first time he’s ever really taken you in.

“I agree.” He murmurs, much to your surprise. “And when war comes — and it will, and I’m preparing for it — when war comes, I will fight alongside the humans. To liberate them.”

You look at him, then — a male who has lived for almost a millennia, but doesn’t look a day over forty. Who is so universally feared, who carries a reputation for things you can’t even bear to consider. You will not fool yourself into believing that the darkness hides an inner light, or that the cruelty is a front. He is not soft and he is not kind.

But perhaps he’s not totally bad, either. That he would put himself in the firing line for the liberation of innocent humans…it has to speak somewhat to his character.

It almost makes you regret your scheming, your manipulating.

Before you can muster a response, the High Lord is leaning closer. Your body tenses as his face stops inches away from yours.

“You need not be afraid of me, Y/N.” He whispers. “I find you…magnificent. I like that you don’t filter yourself in front of me, that you’re not afraid to speak your true thoughts and feelings.  You…you are an asset. Worth so much more than you’ve ever been given credit for.”

Your gaze dips, cheeks burning at the compliment. “I don’t know about that—”

“I mean it.” His finger hooks under your chin, soothing the skin there. “Magnificent.” He repeats, and he’s leaning in closer, closer, until his lips are coasting your flushed cheek. The kiss he presses there is cold in contrast, but you have no chance to react as his mouth brushes its way to the shell of your ear and lingers there. “Absolutely brilliant. And do you know what?”

“…What?”

“After the ball is over,” his breath tickles your ear, “I’m going to bring you back here, to this stage. And those stars above our heads will watch as I strip you bare and fuck you hard enough to shake the building.”

It takes every morsel of your resolve not to start at the words. You release a shaky breath — one that makes you seem eager, responsive. It’s convincing enough that you don’t think you’d be out of place up here on this stage.

Thankfully, you don’t have to drag words from your spinning thoughts. Fin lets go, and he pulls back, rising to his feet.

“But until then,” he holds a hand out for you, “there is much to be done. Starting with you and I getting a good night’s sleep.”

You wear a mild smile as you allow him to pull you up. “A girl can dream.”

“And so can a High Lord.”

You don’t say much else to each other as he tugs you close and spirits you back to his palace. You are both pensive, and you are both tired.

But when he bids you goodnight outside your bedroom and strolls off to his own, sleep seems further away than ever. You’re thinking too much at once. Humans. War. Fin. Azriel.

You still desperately want to see Az, talk to him.

You dig back into the drawer, meaning to retrieve the letter you’d started to write.

But your hand merely knocks against wood, and the letter is gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’re tempted — to write another letter, or note, or…whatever. You don’t even know what became of the first, unfinished one, whether it made its way to Azriel or not.

But days pass, and you…you begin to lose your nerve a little. Perhaps it’s better to live in ignorance for as long as possible than know, either way, what Azriel is thinking. Choosing. Can’t help feeling that the more time pedals on without a word…the worse the outcome will be.

Distractions help. But tonight, it would seem, there are none. And it’s strange, because everything around you is bathed in luxury, in excellence, but you find yourself missing the stripped back simplicity of Windhaven. The crumbling cottages, the mead hall, the rough-and-tumble way of life. There’s always something happening in that harrowing place, something to keep you occupied. As you stare down an evening in a huge, mostly empty palace, you’re actually struck by your longing for it. Both Roza and Fin are busy. Mor is away. Only the mountains and the distant sounds of the city are your companions tonight.

And once again, your thoughts take you to Azriel.

You think maybe this need for him is getting out of hand. And maybe it’s just the sugar-sweet things that Fin has been speaking into your ear, the knowledge that deep down, there’s only one person you want to make such promises to you—

No. It’s not just that. Not just a pathetic influence of suggestive words. It’s a need.

You need Azriel.

Your closest friend. Your safety blanket. The male who saved you and brought you into the fold of a loving, supportive unit. You stared down awkward adolescence together, faced such trying times by each other’s sides.

And you need him.

Your heart, your body, your skin, is hot and heavy with it. Restless. Like the craving is pulling you apart from the inside.

You need to do something, anything, to occupy yourself; take a late-night stroll, read a book. Anything to stop you from staring at the ceiling and being eaten alive by the fire that scorches your veins.

You’re so desperate to get moving that you don’t bother to grab a jacket — just shove your feet into your shoes. A spring mildness has blanketed the city, anyway. You’ll be fine. You just need to move—

But you yank your bedroom door open, and Azriel is on the other side.

His beauty punches you straight in the gut.

He’s a vision, stood there in casual clothing, a note — your note — clutched in his hand. He takes in the sight of you just as hurriedly.

“What are you doing here,” you breathe.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. His eyes rove you again, and he swallows. “I got your note.” He answers. “I wanted to see you, too, and…the High Lord summoned Rhys, Cass and I here…to warn us to be on our best behaviour at the ball.”

You can’t say anything. Can’t speak. You just gawk like a godsdamned fool.

A strange concoction of a frown and a laugh comes from Az. “I…snuck away after…to come here—”

Before you even know what you’re doing, your hand is bunching in the front of Azriel’s shirt, and you’re dragging him into the room with all your strength. He looks bewildered as you shove the door shut behind him.

“Az, have you lost your mind?” You round on him. “If Fin knew you’d come to my room—”

“He isn’t here.” He cuts you off. “Cass went straight back to Windhaven, and Rhys knew I wanted to see you, so…he’s currently having quality family time with Roza and his father in the city.”

There’s a lot to unpack. But all your mind wants to zero in on is that one little sentence — Rhys knew I wanted to see you.

Pathetic, how your entire stomach flips.

“…You call him Fin?”

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up enough to understand Azriel’s question.

“We’ve been living under the same roof.” You shrug slowly. “I…guess he got tired of me using his title.”

Az stares at you, assessing. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you fidget under the intensity of his gaze.

“What is it?” You ask him.

“I’m worried about you. I know he’s taking you to the ball. I don’t want you playing his games.”

You purse your lips. “…That why you snuck here to my room, Az? To give me a warning—”

“I came here because you said you wanted to see me, and I want to see you, too.”

So open — for him. So straightforward that for a beat, you’re not sure how to react.

But then you’re moving, and so is he, and your bodies slam together in a tight, long-awaited embrace. Feeling his arms wrap around you is…everything. Everything you’ve missed and longed for. Everything you will ever long for. Whatever happens…Azriel is the only thing you’ll need, when all is said and done.

And that’s why you’re suddenly crying, clinging to him.

On instinct, Azriel’s arms tighten around you. He moves a hand up to cradle the back of your head, and he whispers, “Y/N…”

“Please don’t leave Windhaven.” The words choke out of you. “Please, Az, just…don’t go to Fenlaros. Please—”

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Tears and all, you do. You remain as close to him as you possibly can as you lift your head to meet his eyes.

You don’t know how you know, but you do — from that one, heavy stare, you can tell that things have changed. That he has changed. He looks like the same, stunning male that you’ve always admired, but something else sits on his face.

Emotion.

Determination.

Fire.

He opens his mouth. Takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body. And then he says, with utter clarity, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You almost break all over again. But he keeps talking, keeps sharing.

“I love you. No — I’m in love with you. I love you more than I can put into words. I want you and only you, and I’m not leaving you. The only reason I would ever walk out of that camp is if you were by my side, and we were leaving together.”

You are…weightless. Boneless. Held up only by Azriel’s arms. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you allow it to fall to the carpet.

“My handling of my feelings,” Az stares down at you, “has been one huge fuck up. I loved you long before you offer to let me practice intimacy on you. Experiencing those things with you…the things you made me feel…only brought those feelings to the surface. And instead of facing them as I should have done, I hid behind Kaeda to avoid them. But it was never about Kaeda. It was always you. It will always be you. And I’m scared, Y/N, I’m fucking terrified. But I’m done running. Done hiding.”

Silence sweeps into the room on swift wings, and you are suddenly incapable of thought, and of somehow turning it into words. Without Azriel’s voice to distract you, you’re aware of the tremors that wrack through his body. As though this is the scariest thing in the world to him, and he’s trying to hold strong against it.

It probably is.

He studies you closely. Croaks out, “Please say something.”

And perhaps it’s giving him the wrong impression entirely, but you’re stepping out of his arms and putting space between you. You just…need to gather your thoughts. To remember how to speak.

“I…” You blink. “I handled it badly, too.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“I made selfish choices. I…I acted out of jealousy because I wanted you, but you and Kaeda were…”

He shakes his head resolutely. “What I told you before was true. I never touched Kaeda like that. Even before I found out about all that Fenlaros shit, I think I knew that I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t.”

A fact that breaks your heart. Your eyes fill with tears again. “But I still did. Cass and I—”

“Cassian was there for you when I should have been, and I had no right — none — to react the way that I did. If anyone did anything wrong that night, it was me. But what you and Cass did…it does not matter. Not one bit.”

You’re pivoting on the spot, turning your back to him, before you can crumble entirely. He really means it. Really does not hate you for the choice you made, even though it hurt him.

“Y/N,” Az’s voice shakes behind you. “Please…look at me.”

Now you’re confronted with the situation, part of you wants to run — to hide.

But Az is being open. Honest. No matter how hard, how terrifying it is for him…he’s here. He’s trying.

And so you’ll try, too. And you think you might be shaking just as much as he is as you turn back to him.

The two of you stare at each other. Feel the situation out with your gazes alone.

Azriel is the one to break the extended silence.

“You said you need me.” He eyes you. He’s visibly trembling all over, and it has nothing to do with the chill in the room. Trembling like he’s trying to hold himself together against the weight of the situation.

“…Yes.” You swallow. “I do, Az…I think I’ve always needed you.”

“So show me.”

You pause. Blink, your eyes blown wide. “What?”

“Show me how you need me.” He steps closer, and though he’s shaking, he outreaches a hand and find yours. “Show me how to give you what you need.”

Your fingers brush his, and you’re forcing a lump down your throat. Drinking him in. He…he’s exquisite. “You mean…”

“I mean,” the gap is closed between your bodies, and his heat is reaching you, “I don’t want to practice. I want it all…everything…with you. I want you to take me. Only you—”

You’re surging forward with so much pent-up need that when your lips collide with Azriel’s, it almost knocks you both to the floor.

But Azriel’s arms are banding around you, and he’s a pillar against you, kissing you back with just as much heat.

You don’t know which of you makes what move. Your hands are all over him, and his are all over you, and he’s walking you backwards and groaning as the kiss deepens.

You find the hem of his tunic, dip your hands under, fingertips skating warm skin that shudders beneath your touch. “Can I take this off?” You murmur, and he swallows your words greedily.

“All of it — take it all.”

And so you do. There is no method to it. You’re a woman starved and crazed as you tear at his clothing, not caring about where it ends up, so long as it’s no longer on him. More and more tan skin is exposed, more muscles, more scars. And when he kicks out of his boots and breeches and his underwear is the only remaining barrier, you’re reaching for him, for the hardness that’s pushing through the dark grey fabric and taunting you.

But Azriel reaches out an arm to gently stop you. His hand brushes your cheek, and his eyes are pure hunger as he says, “Your turn.”

And it hits you just then that up in until this point, Azriel has never seen you naked — in this capacity, anyway. There have been plenty of non-sexual circumstances over the years in which you’ve gotten a glimpse of each other, but not like this. Even when he began practicing on you, you never took your clothes off.

And you’re fucking nervous. Even more so under the press of his gaze. He looks like he may combust as you slowly move your hands to your shirt and tug the front laces loose. You pull the hem out from where it was tucked into your breeches.

The fabric parts enough that it more or less slides off you and pools on the floor. You do not meet the heavy stare that watches you so closely. You may lose your nerve if you do.

But when the last few items of clothing are off and kicked away from you, and you’re left entirely bare, you hear a sharp intake of breath. Curiosity gets the better of you. You lift your gaze and resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest.

Azriel is staring at you like…like nobody ever has before.

Like you are the rare rays of sunlight that break through the grey landscape of Windhaven. Like the world around you was forged from your own two hands.

Like you’re beautiful, and worthy, and unruined.

“…What is it?” You clear your throat, shifting on the spot.

Azriel shakes out of a daze and takes a single step closer to you. “You are…” His throat bobs, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You almost laugh. Almost. But something stops you.

The sincerity in his tone, his eyes. The realisation that he truly means that.

Your eyes travel from his face, down his sculpted chest and stomach. The firm, toned legs and what sits beneath him. You’ve seen plenty of his body naked. But…not all at once.

You think the air might be punched from your lungs.

He’s hard as a rock — from looking at you. The tip of his cock is already leaking moisture. His wings flare proudly at his back.

“So beautiful.” He cups your jaw, guiding your eyes back up to his.

There’s nothing else you can say, in that moment, than the words that tumble from your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Emotion crosses his face, and both hands are gripping your cheeks. He kisses you deeply; so deeply that it steals your breath.

And then he pulls away, and he’s repeating his earlier words, his forehead pressed to yours. “Show me — show me what you need. No games, just…you and me.”

No games, indeed. You cannot wait any longer.

You rise on the tips of your toes and claim his mouth with yours, and you’re guiding him back, back, until his legs are hitting the bed and he’s gladly falling onto it. He sprawls out, watching as you climb over him. As your hand caresses his stomach and moves down.

And when your fingertips brush the head of his cock, a deep, delicious noises rumbles in his throat.

You mop the moisture up with your palm, using it to slick the length of him and slide your hand up and down. He hisses between his teeth, hips jerking, hands bunching within the covers on your bed.

“No games,” he repeats through gritted teeth. “This is about both of us.”

And you know that, and you’re not patient enough, anyway, for foreplay right now.

It dawns on you that there will plenty of time for that.

He is not leaving Windhaven — not leaving you.

You will have experiences together beyond this one night.

And with that very fact warming your heart and making it set to burst, you place your legs either side of his body and stare down at him. His cock brushes against your centre, and he can feel how wet you already are for him. His eyes travel down.

You watch, and you ask him, quietly, “You’re sure about this?”

His gaze flicks up immediately. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.” He reaches out a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous — gods, I really fucking am. So scared. I just…want to do it right. To be good for you.”

The sentiment almost brings tears to your eyes. “You couldn’t do it wrong if you tried, Az. Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.” He sits up a little — angles himself closer to you. “And I love you with my whole heart, too.”

And that’s all either of you need, isn’t it? Love and trust. The need that exits between you. Everything that is just…yours and Azriel’s relationship in its entirety.

Your eyes remain locked with his as you gently reach down and position his cock at your entrance. He breathes shakily. Doesn’t look away from you once.

Not as you slide down onto him just a little. You pause at the first feel of your walls stretching to accommodate him. A pleasured frown furrows his brow. A moment passes, two, and then you slide down further.

More and more. Sinking onto him. Pausing. Adjusting. With every inch of his huge length that disappears inside you, you feel like every one of your nerve endings is struck by lightning. Azriel’s head lolls back, and he makes a soft noise.

“You’re okay?” You check, hovering over him.

“You feel—” He chokes on his words. “Fuck.”

It’s the encouragement you need to sink the rest of the way onto him. The last few inches slide into you quick, thanks to the slickness that soaks your folds, and then he’s pushed into the hilt and hitting a spot so deep inside you that you can’t stifle the noise that breaks from your throat.

“Did I hurt you?” Azriel gasps, and you can only shake your head. He seems to study your face for confirmation, before he’s pushing up to kiss you.

And you kiss him back. For a moment, that’s all either of you do.

But when he’s losing himself in your mouth, his tongue dancing around yours, seemingly distracted by your kiss…only then do you lift your hips and sink down onto him again. And then you’re falling into a slow, steady rhythm.

Azriel is gasping again, his mouth moving from yours to press kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones — your breasts. As you rock slowly against him, the walls of your pussy squeezing him, coaxing him, he buries his face into your chest and explores you, lips and tongue paying attention to your nipples, teeth grazing with a gentleness that’s almost heartbreaking.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, and the hands that are sitting on your hips travel up your back — up to the scars that live in the place of your stolen wings. “Gods, Y/N, you’re everything.”

You moan, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You just…want to hold him to you, to feel him against you. It’s like it all comes crashing down on you that he very easily could have left.

But he didn’t. He won’t. He is here and so are you. He is yours and you are his.

“Talk to me,” you breathe, raking your nails down his arms. “Tell me how you feel.”

“So good — feels so good with you wrapped around me.”

“Yeah?” You lean down, brush a kiss to his lips. “You like being inside me?”

“There is — fuck — there is no one, Y/N, that I want to do this with, besides you.” His mouth slants over yours, and he whispers two words — take me — before he’s giving himself to your kiss.

He’s so big, so deep. And the blood in your veins feels like molten lava as the pace picks up, as his trembling begins to subside, and he grows more confident. His groans are loud, and his hands roam over your body before finally landing on your hips. Fingertips dig into your flesh with a dizzying bite, and he’s rocking you, encouraging you to take him. To fuck him.

This is not practice. This is two bolts of lighting striking in the same place. The friction between your bodies is perfect, like nothing else you’ve ever felt. The pleasure may just finish you yet. It’s electric. Addictive. You want to feel like this forever, with him.

And more pleasure floods you as in one swift move, he flips you over — takes you entirely by surprise. You’re landing on your back, and he’s hovering over you. He stills as he stares down at you.

“This is perfect.” He says, dipping down to kiss you again. It makes him move inside you suddenly, and the different angle has you both gasping into each other’s mouths. “Gods.”

“Fuck me, Az.” You moan. “Just like that.”

What starts out slow quickly builds in pace. The roll of Azriel’s hips become thrusts — and the moans, the cries, the words that leave you, all guide them to be deeper, harder. You think you could stay like this forever, with him buried inside of you, wringing pleasure from every corner of your body. It snakes through your veins and zips up your spine, and when his hand travels down and his fingers find your clit, you fucking explode.

You cry out, bucking up from the bed as your orgasm hits you full force. Azriel fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder, more desperate, as the walls of your cunt clench around him. He breathes out a fractured, desperate noise, leaning down to brush his lips over yours as he fucks into you harder.

“I can’t last much longer.” He chokes around his pleasure, pressing quick, nipping kisses to your mouth. “I can’t—”

“Come for me.” You gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “Come inside me.”

The noise that your words coax from him is downright sinful. He grabs your hips in his hands, slants his mouth over yours. He slams into you again, again, again, and then he’s roaring his pleasure with enough force to shake the bed, and you feel every rope of come that he spills into you.

You’re trembling. Or maybe that’s him. Or both of you. Both slick with sweat, and both shaking, and both unable to hold yourselves up any longer.

Azriel collapses beside you, his body still tangled with yours. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths heating your skin. You sink a trembling hand into the strands of his hair.

“That was—” His voice hitches, “I can’t…can’t put it into words.”

Neither can you. It’s all you can do to nod as you catch your breath.

“Thank you.” A kiss is pressed against your neck. Another. Az’s arm drapes over your chest, and he moves his mouth to yours. “Thank you.”

Still void of words, you settle on kissing him. Deep. Slow. Unhurried. Your hand cups his cheek, and your tongue strokes into his mouth. Lays out a litany of sentiments that you’re currently incapable of verbalising.

It feels like you kiss each other forever. But then you’re pulling back, pressing your foreheads together. And you stare into Azriel’s eyes as you tell him once again, “I love you.”

Emotion floods his eyes, and he holds you as close to him as he possible can, murmuring onto your mouth, “I love you, too. I think I always have.”

You know you always have. You tuck yourself into his side, content to feel his skin against yours. The rest of the world floats away. There is nothing and no one but you and him. Your Azriel.

Your eyes are growing heavy when he brushes his lips against your forehead, and he whispers the words you’ve needed to hear for so, so long.

“Whatever happens, Y/N,” another kiss joins the first, “you and I will face it together.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Bongo Butts | 18+

I should be going to bed but I forgot to do laundry so here I am, writing more content that nobody asked for. Just like motorboating them...when I see them butts. Just. WHAM BAM. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also hope you know I had to research different types of dump trucks for this fic.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Ass Slapping, Crack Fic, Playing their asses like they're bongos, Zayne's lost sanity, Rafayel is scandalized as per usual, you mentally scar Raf, Xavier is confused as per usual, but is he confused?, he does get you back tho

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier really did need to be more careful around you. He was the one who wanted you to date him first, in your defense. He chose you. And you wouldn't let a single day go by that you didn't prove why that was a horrible decision on his end. At the very least, he could claim that he was never bored with you around.

Today was supposed to be a lazy day. You two had off from all missions and were relaxing around the apartment since it was too damn hot to actually go outside. It also happened to be laundry day for Xavier, so he was dressed in his workout attire while his uniforms were being deep cleaned from all the dirt that accumulated on them during his missions.

Those shorts. They were so damn short. You'd even call it slutty because hot damn. His ass was just right there. It was staring at you. Hypnotizing you like it was a snake charmer. Your hands were already twitching in a grabby motion as you stared directly at those perfectly rounded globes on his backside. His beautiful bubble butt.

Xavier could feel your stare burning into him as he looked over his shoulder. He was just sun bathing by the window, laying on his stomach. So vulnerable to your upcoming attack.

"Something you need?" Damn, he already sounded suspicious. It might've been by how you were practically drooling with your hands up, ready to grab at him. It was a slight give away. He should've been more prepared though, because you lunged at him in that moment.

He only had time to turn slightly when you pushed him back on his stomach, sitting on his back to pin him down. Your hands took a fistful of his ass before you began hitting them with little force. Just watching them jiggle with every little slap of your hands.

You were cackling like a maniac as you continued your assault until he managed to maneuver you off of him. You were laughing, your cheeks flushed as you almost teared up. His entire face was red as he stared at you in horror. Then you saw a flash in his eyes and you knew you were done for.

He grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. Then you felt a harsh slap at your ass, making you squeal. It was so much rougher than you had hit him. He stared at your back side and did it again.

"I can see why you found this so entertaining. I think I'll play with this for now."

"Unhand me you creatine!"

"I think not, if I let you go, who knows what else you'll do to me."

Zayne

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on Akso's best Cardiac Surgeon knew that one thing was a pure fact. He had an ass. His doctor's coat did a good job concealing it, but he couldn't wear it all the time. You had even noticed a few nurses who would glance down at him when he passed them in the hallway.

It was something you knew very well about Zayne, and something the man seemed oblivious to. The man didn't just have a dump truck as a rear end, it was a dump trailer. That shit could keep a family fed for an entire year. It was so perfect in every way. You could grab onto one cheek with both hands and you still wouldn't be able to capture the entire thing.

Yet for some reason, Zayne had no idea just how badly you needed his ass. You would often times find yourself staring at it when you hung out, had an appointment, or were just lounging at the apartments. It plagued your thoughts. You were losing sleep over this. It wasn't good for your health.

"Zayne..." You said as you relaxed on the couch next to him. You two were catching up on a TV show that you started well over a month ago but hadn't had time to really enjoy it.

"Yes, did you need something?" Oh how sweet he was, always looking out for you.

"Yes actually...can you lay down on your stomach for me? I wanna do something." You said, knowing that this man would do just about anything you asked. He eyed you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to play this game with you.

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Zayne took one more moment before giving in. He adjusted his position, laying down on his stomach just as you had asked. You decided to be subtle, leaning over his form and placing your hands on his shoulders at first. You gently caressed the skin there, massaging the muscles through his shirt as you slowly made your way down to the small of his back.

There it was. The prize. The holy grail of all asses. It was ripe for the taking as you looked over to see Zayne's closed eyes as he relaxed under your touch. You didn't hesitate. Your hands slapping down on his ass and grabbing it roughly.

His eyes shot open as he looked over at you. You licked your lips as you began gently slapping the flesh, watching the bounce as though it were made of jelly. It was a sight to behold and you couldn't help yourself. You had seconds before Zayne reacted and pulled your grubby little hands off him.

So you leaned your head in and bit down. His pants managed to cushion him from the force of your bite, but he sure as hell felt it. He sat up and grabbed you under the arms like a cat, stopping you in your tracks as you stared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with your nice ass."

"My butt is not a play thing."

You paused for a moment, eyes trailing down to the front of his pants, "If you aren't gonna let me slap your ass, can I play with your dick like it's a Bop-It?"

You watched Zayne go through five stages of grief. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket next to him, wrapping your entire body like a burrito so your limbs were no longer effective. He then sat back down on the couch with his legs open and placed you between, holding you tightly to his chest.

"I'm begging you, please be quiet for once and let's finish this show."

Rafayel

He should've known you were up to something if your gaze was anything to go off of. You had zeroed in on him the moment you had come over. Even during your little date as you two explored Linkon together, he knew something was up. Your not so subtle glances in his direction couldn't be considered innocent.

If only he knew why you were staring so hardcore. He had gotten a new pair of pants, or at least you assumed they were new. You were pretty sure you'd remember them with how good he looked at the moment. It was tight on him, accentuating his ass perfectly. You were pretty sure if you riled him it would also perfectly outline another aspect of him.

Still, you had a mission. Rafayel didn't know it yet, but the moment you had caught a glimpse of him this morning, you knew what had to be done. His muffins needed to be squished. His plump little cushions had to be properly admired and worshipped. You would be the one to happily give them the attention they deserved. An ass sculpted by the gods themselves were staring at you literally all day.

You closed the door to his home slowly, turning over to him. He was already heading to the living room. You slowly stalked behind him, and he could feel you were up to no good.

"Something caught your interest? I know I look good, but not even you normally stare at me this much."

"I just think you look particularly handsome today is all." As does his ass. You couldn't say that yet though, he would realize what your plans were if you verbalized it too early. Like a cat stalking a mouse, you followed him until he was in the living room. The moment he was by the couch you took action.

You rushed behind him and pressed down on the small of his back, making him stumble forward. He grabbed the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. Rafayel turned just in time to watch you drop down to your knees. Then he felt your hands harshly gripping his ass. Then the quick slaps in succession followed as you began laughing maniacally.

"Finally!" You said as you grabbed at them again. Rafayel finally reacted, rolling onto the couch to get away from your hands. You were practically panting as your hands twitched, "Come on Raf, lemme just squeeze em again."

"You are a psychopath." He said, hiding his ass from your view.

"I'm your psychopath though." Despite how horrified Rafayel looked, he was also amused by your antics. He grabbed at your arm, making you fall forward and your chest pressing against his own. His hands went to grab at your ass this time, squeezing them and laughing.

"You know, I think I'm seeing the appeal of this." He commented, his hands lazily hitting your ass cheeks like you had to him, although he was far more calm about it.

"See, it's amazing...now can I go back to playing with your butt? I wasn't done yet."

"I think not...although this has given me an idea. Do you mind if I paint your backside?"

"You wanna paint on my ass?"

"Perhaps."

"...I'll agree if you let me eat your-" Rafayel had never cut you off so quickly.

"Never mind."

The most accurate representation of what we're doing to these poor men. I will not be silenced. Their asses need to be slapped. And ate

[haruchuiyo]

failed discreetness

content: NOT SFW! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! + semi or not so semi public sex + established marriage + princess!reader + former bodyguard!jing yuan

“sequel” to this one here

felt bad not posting a fic in a while so this one it is. had to write more stuff to this even tho it was completed like MONTHS ago! hope you enjoy <3

—

You hold up your dress walking back to Jing Yuan, who’s sitting on the blanket on your favorite hill. He watches your every step and when you arrive, sitting beside him and he sighs.

“He fancies you.” He simply mutters out and you are confused. “Who fancies me?” You ask as he turns to look at you. He pouts while glancing back at the bodyguard that’s on duty today for you two. When you realize who he is talking about, you laugh.

“And why were you so close to him?” He is pouting as he asks and you giggle. “Because I received something i asked for from him, my love.” You answer and Jing Yuan looks confused. You grin at his expression. You pull out the gift from behind you and it’s a new hair band. He takes it from your palm and looks at you with a delighted face.

“I was gonna get a new one after my other one broke. Thank you so much, my heart.” He leans in to press a soft kiss on your lips and you hum in content into the kiss. Jing Yuan placed his new gift from you aside, before softly holding your face in his hands, tilting you to kiss you deeper.

The kiss turns passionate, Jing Yuan his hands on your waist, before he heaved you up to situate you on his lap. You gasp slightly into the kiss at his sudden action. You pull away breathless.

“Not here, we have company.” You merely say as Jing Yuan shrugs slightly. “We can be discreet.” He retorts back and you shake your head. “We’re bad at being discreet.” You admit as Jing Yuan chuckles.

“Then it’s time to practice, no?” He grins at you before kissing you again. His arms wound up around your waist, your body pulled flush against his as if to not let you go.

His mouth soft and smooth against yours, he tasted of lemon cookies and floral tea. He deepens the kiss passionately and you feel how he grazes your lower lip with his teeth. It sends sparks of bliss down your spine. Your body turns warmer, you feel yourself moving against him, growing frenzied and inpatient. Jing Yuan slightly pulls away, brushing his lips against yours and you whine at the parting of his lips from yours.

“We’re practicing how to be discreet, my heart, remember?” He mumbles against your lips and you softly groan against his mouth. He chuckles before you feel his hands trail down your spine to your stomach to collect your dress on your lap, so he could gain access to you from beneath. You gasp when his fingers makes contact with your cunt against your undergarments. Your lips part against his mouth, he gently bites down on your lower lip, nibbling on it as he softly strokes you on your clit over your undergarment. The friction adding onto the pleasure you’re feeling down your entire body, you moan against his on mouth.

“I need you unfasten my pants, princess.” You almost saw heaven at the name he called you. After your official marriage, he rarely calls you princess if not for special occasions like this. You reach your hands down his chest to his crotch and as you were about to unbuckle his belt, he speaks up. “Discreetly.” He simply says and you want to get this done over with already, feeling overstimulated at the pace this is going on.

“I want you.” You softly whimper out as Jing Yuan grins while slightly pinching your clit, sending shots of raptures in you. You feel his undergarment and hastily reach for his cock.

He is big in your hand, thick and long enough to not stop you from getting nervous at his size, despite the amount of times he’s fucked your brains out. Your fingers barely meet when wrapped around his cock. You hear his breath hitch sharply, letting out a low groan from his lips and his cock twitches in your palm. When you feel him trail his fingers beneath your undergarment and finally curl up inside you, your head fall forward on his shoulder, letting out choked gasps. As you do that, your grip on his cock tightens and Jing Yuan grunts at the tight grasp.

Your thighs squeeze his hips, shuddering at the way his fingers works their ministrations inside you and you softly move your hands up and down his cock. Feeling a slight bit of precum on his tip, you touch it with your thumb before moving it in circles, making Jing Yuan moan at the pleasure you’re giving him with the touch.

“We were supposed to be discreet.” You say as you slightly glance at the guard stationed a meters away. “Is it working?” Jing Yuan asks, his tone deep and breathless. “He is fidgeting.” You simply answer when you feel Jing Yuan pull his fingers out before ripping your undergarment in half.

You gasp at his action but didn’t manage to say anything about it before letting out a choked cry at his intrusion. Just by the tip alone, gives you a good stretch. You clutch onto his shirt for dear life as he lowers his cock into you slowly and slowly. His head falls forward on your shoulder, groaning at how you’re so tight around him. When you’re fully sheathed on him, he waits for you to adjust.

“You’re too big.” You mewl out as Jing Yuan croons at you softly. “You’re good at this, my heart, you can take it.” He coos at you as you nod, feeling tears down your face. He reaches his hand up to softly hold your face.

“Now I need you to be quiet, yeah? So take my fingers in your mouth like a good princess you are.” His voice is soothing and deep as he places his fingers he had inside your cunt, in your mouth and you nod your head at his words while slightly licking his fingers. You moan at the taste of yourself and Jing Yuan watches fiercely while licking his lips.

Then you feel his hand trail down your spine to hold you on your hip and when he moves you against him, you close your eyes in ecstasy while letting out a muffled sweet little cry. Jing Yuan bites down at his lip at how much you’re clamping down on him as he rolls your hips against his. He leans in to your neck, taking a long stripe of your throat with his tongue, moving down to your collarbone, nibbling and sucking adding onto your feelings of bliss.

Needing more, Jing Yuan groans, low and desperate. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, filled with your saliva. You open your eyes to look at him. They’re glistening in tears and he kisses the tears the fell.

“I can’t do this.” He pleads into your mouth. You understand what he needs and you nod your head. You look behind him and see that the guards still there. You feel Jing Yuan bury his face in the crook of your neck, panting, needing more of you. You signal the guard and he makes eye contact with you. When he sees the intimate position you two are in, his eyes widens. And when he sees you mouth ‘go’ he simply leaves after giving a curt bow.

“He’s gone, my love.” Not a second goes before Jing Yuan has you on your back, grasping your thighs, groaning in pleasure when he thrusts himself inside you like a man starved.

The stretch has your mind feel empty but only full of him and you feel pure euphoria when his hips bucks into you endlessly. The pace he set was endlessly good, the intense impacts of his thrusts has you grappling the blanket beneath you as if you can’t think of anything else than your husband above you and how good this feels. All you can do is give him filthy moans to his filthy words and praises.

Your breasts constricts against the confinements of your dress, almost spilling out by your heavy breathing. Then you feel Jing Yuan’s soft mouth on your skin on your chest, kissing and biting as he keeps thrusting into you.

You have the pleasure and honour to listen to his low groans against your skin when you squeeze down on him. Your fingers go around his neck to grip him, pull his head to your face breathe him in by his mouth like he’s your source of oxygen. He meets your lips in a fierce sloppy kiss as his thrusts turns more intense.

His pace picks up as he presses your thighs against your chest, you kiss him hard as he moans into your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips as he thrusts all the way in as you move your hands on his neck, gripping him closer as you feel his entire size by each thrust, long and hard. Deep plunges that made you feel like you saw stars.

He whispers sweet nothings to by your ear, praising you for taking him so well and good like a cute sweet princess you are, and that alone has you reach your climax. It hit you so hard that made cry out as Jing Yuan softly kisses your jaw, telling you how cute and sweet you look below him. Tears leaks down your face as you crane your head up for a kiss and he gladly kisses you. His thrusts grows unsteady and uneven, he reaches a hand down to your stomach and feels the bulge there, he presses down on it gently making you let out a soft whine. His thighs shudders at the sound you made and hips twitching and he buries himself in your neck again.

He sinks his teeth into your neck to muffle his drawn out unrestrained moans. His pace growls slow as he trembles against you with a low groan against your neck. You roll your hips against his, working him through his high. His grip on your hip is heavy and firm as he spills inside you. Thick ropes of cum painting your walls white.

He lets go of your thighs, holds you close and you wrap your thighs around his sweaty body. He still remained inside you, soft but content. Jing Yuan softly purrs against your neck, rubbing his face there. You gently hold his hair, stroking it softly.

“We failed at being discreet.” You say out loud and Jing Yuan chuckles against your neck. He rubs himself there again, breathing in your pure scent. “Do you think the guards gonna report back to the king?” He asks and you groan.

“Oh by the Aeons, I hope not.” Humiliating to find out if the guard actually did report back to the king, who’s also your father.

Jing Yuan leans up, you squirm in discomfort at the sticky feeling down below and when he pulls out, cum falls out. He simply looks back at you before putting his cum back in by his thumb. You pull yourself up by your elbows as you watch what he’s doing.

“Can’t waste anything.” He mutters softly as he softly strokes your cunt before pushing back some that fell out again, back in again. You reach a hand out and Jing Yuan holds your hand and pulls you flush against his chest. His other hand is still between you two, acting as a barrier for his essence to not spill out.

“Really? We could always do more.” You say with a grin and Jing Yuan chuckles. He looks away from your cunt to your face. And he leans in to press a chaste loving kiss.

“And we can take the chance to practice some more discreetness.”

—

this is like a nsfw version of my other jing yuan fic lmao

if you’ve come this far and liked it, a like and reblog would be very veryyyy appreciated mwah

[zooone]

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 &lt;3

hi! message from about a year later (since i still get notes from this) but i do not support wilbur soot at all, and do not write for him anymore. so part two of this fic is discontinued. :( thank u for all the luv from this fic

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.

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

in case you did not read the beginning (its a long wall of text i understand 🙂‍↕️), i do not write for wilbur soot anymore and do not condone or support any of his actions. therefore, part two will not be coming :(

[lucifersgirl]

I’m so glad u take requests!! Lucifer jealous?? 🫢 I don’t rlly have an idea…but I wanna see Lucifer get jealous and protective hehe :3 u don’t have to tho!

Ooh! I love that idea! Sorry it took me so long, y’all, but I got it done! Hope you enjoy, babes! Have a good week!

Protection

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ - THIS WRITING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. SMUT BELOW. MDNI.

————————

“Honey?” Lucifer asked as he knocked on the door. “Are you almost ready?”

“Almost, Luci, just give me a minute!” You rushed to the bathroom door as you finished your makeup. You looked Lucifer up and down, adoring the man in front of you.

Lucifer was wearing a black suit and white tie, his usual hat and was carrying his usual staff. His eyes went wide when he looked at you. “Goodness…” he whispered, clearly astonished at the sight of you. “You look stunning!”

“As do you,” you giggled. You were wearing a black laced dress that was only a touch revealing. Your red lipstick matched your earrings and the small bracelet you wore on your right wrist. You truly did look stunning.

“I’m going to have to fight demons off left and right!” Lucifer joked, smiling up at you. He offered his arm to you, and you took it gratefully.

“What a gentleman,” you praised.

Lucifer preened at your compliment.

————————

Lucifer grasped your arm once you two arrived at the party. “Stay by my side, my love,” he whispered to you. “I don’t trust these sinners to keep to themselves.”

You laughed aloud. “Oh, Lucifer,” you shook your head, “do you trust anyone down here at all?” You patted his hand and kissed it.

Lucifer glanced at the lipstick mark on his pale skin. He looked back up at you and tilted his head. “No,” he replied, “I do not.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, reaching to open the car door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?��Lucifer slapped your hand away before opening his own door. He rushed over to open yours, bowing down and reaching his hand out to you as he did.

“I can do it myself, you know,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Now why in Hell would a beautiful woman like you do that?” Lucifer replied, grabbing your hand once again and pulling you from the car. You walked to the door together, Lucifer smiling at you the entire time. When you reached the door, he leapt ahead of you and opened it for you. “Ladies first.”

As soon as you walked in the door, darting eyes were on you. The music was loud and the building smelled of weed and rotting flesh.

A few moments later, while Lucifer was off talking to Asmodeus, a demon approached you. “Hey, pretty,” he toothily grinned at you. He carried a drink and, though he was dressed in all black, you could see the stains of the alcohol on his shirt. “Never seen you around here. Why don’t we,” he winked and nodded to a corner, “y’know?”

“No, thank you,” you said politely. “I’m all set.”

The demon grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, almost bringing you to the ground. “C’mon, baby,” he shouted over the music. “It’ll be fun.”

“Let go of me,” you warned, shaking your arm to try to get him away. Your actions, however, only made the demon grip you stronger. Your eyes widened as he guided your hand to the bulge in his pants.

“You see what you do to me, sugar?” He asked as he forced you to palm him. “This is all your fault.”

All of a sudden, a shout came from across the room. You couldn’t quite make out the words due to the loudness of the party, but you knew this demon was in for a treat.

Lucifer came out of nowhere and punched the demon so hard he flew halfway across the room. “Back off, motherfucker,” he hissed before turning around, taking your arm and pulling you to the exit.

Once the door had closed completely, Lucifer sighed and looked at you concernedly. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you replied, looking at him in a not-so-fine way. “Just a bit flustered.”

“Let’s go home, hon,” Lucifer continued to hold your hand all the way to the car, whispering reassurances to you. He opened your door first and then hurried to the driver’s side. He started the car and you were off. After reaching the Morningstar palace and pulling into the driveway, Lucifer sighed and leaned back in his chair. “We are never going there again,” he told you, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Good,” you nodded, grabbing your belongings before opening your door. You got out of the car and walked to the door in the garage leading into the house.

Lucifer hurriedly walked behind you before sliding between you and the door and pulling out his key, unlocking the door. He let you in first, then quickly locked the door behind the both of you. When he turned back, you were standing over him, leaning in for a kiss. His eyes widened and he gasped in surprise as your lips met. He slowly melted into the kiss, however, cupping and stroking your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear before licking a stripe down his neck.

“For what?” Lucifer squeaked, his hands going to your waist.

“For what you did back there at the party,” you replied, nibbling on his earlobe.

Lucifer quickly removed his shoes and picked you up, carrying you off to your bedroom.

You laughed playfully. “Hey! Lemme go! Whoa!” You exclaimed as he threw you onto the bed. You kicked off your heels and removed your jewelry before he could climb into bed with you.

The next kiss you two shared was filled with passion and love. Lucifer groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding over your hips. “I’m gonna show you what that ugly ass demon is missing out on. Maybe he’ll hear you,” he added.

“I hope he does,” you smiled before initiating another hungry kiss.

Your words lit a fire in Lucifer, and he snaked his arm around your waist from behind. He pulled you up swiftly, his lips now trailing down your chest. He nipped at your breasts playfully, successfully earning a soft moan from you. His kisses went to your stomach. Then, he went lower. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thighs before licking a stripe up your clit.

A wanton moan escaped your lips and your hands went to Lucifer’s hair. “Oh, god, Luci~…” you whined as he sucked on your sensitive sex.

Lucifer groaned into your dripping cunt, inserting his split tongue into your hole. He threw your legs over his shoulders, lapping up your juices quickly and efficiently.

You, meanwhile, were a moaning mess beneath him. You were already seeing stars just from his experienced mouth running over your pussy, let alone him pushing his tongue inside of you. “Oh, Lucifer~…” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Is my darling already close just from having my tongue inside of her? Hmm?” He teased before licking another stripe up your cunt.

You nodded profusely, whining about how you were gonna cum.

“I know, my love, I know. Cum all over my tongue, baby. Tastes so sweet…” he trailed off before plunging back into your pussy.

The coil in your stomach snapped and you cried out, grinding against Lucifer’s mouth as he lapped up all of your juices. You thought he would stop there, but he didn’t. He ate you out like a man starved, craving the taste of you. Your second orgasm hit you. And then a third. And a fourth. You had lost count of how many times you had cum. “N-no more, Luci, p-please!” You cried, legs shaking from the overstimulation.

Lucifer licked at your cunt one last time before setting your hips down gently. He laid down beside you and smiled gently. “You feel okay?” He asked you, wanting to be sure he didn’t hurt your precious body.

You nodded before snuggling into his warmth and falling asleep.

————————

[seneon]

★ 𓂃 KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF.

some thoughts my mind wondered off to when i think about touya on a daily. contains fluff, tiny suggestiveness, and a lot of yapping¡ part two 🕷️ some hcs already has a fully written oneshot so you can indulge furthermore¡!

ONE .𖥔 ݁ touya definitely sits at the edge of a high-rise building, looking down and pondering upon the city as the cool air hits and plays with his hair. based on that one scene where he jumped down to burn toga's old house, if you're on the building with touya, at some point he definitely pushed you off the building. ok listen that sounds out of pocket and straight up mean but listen kay? he'll slither his arms around your waist and pull you close to him, then he'll just grab you and push you while he too, jumps off the building. it's definitely a guilty pleasure for touya to gamble his life along with the life of another person in his hands. for some reason, it's pretty romantic too... the way he'd hold you so close to him as you both fall. touya always lands perfectly with his blue flames, creating a cool effect and overall a thrilling experience for you ( you definitely did not almost shit your pants or cry your eyes out yeah ) ★ come around

TWO .𖥔 ݁ joker x harley trope. this guy might just probably love joker a ton, probably even a hugeee fan since joker's first debut in dc. he a lil crazy, js like joker for realz. and y'k what's perfect for a joker lover? a harley quinn girly. a bright, insanely cool and probably secretly obsessive possessive and just a tad bit insane girl ( that's not me tho 💔 ) ugh just imagine saying you'd die for him then you jumped into literal freaking acid and somehow still living and breathing when you don't melt off and he gets sick n tired of your shit and jumps in the acid pool to rescue and harshly kiss you after allat acid burning shi. miraculously you both survived and are reborn as whoever you guys are... living as the now psychotically villainous couple. ★ let the world burn

THREE .𖥔 ݁ touya gets the line "that boy is a real pussy pleaser" and you get "that girl is a real crowd pleaser" and it definitely matches the two of you. likeee do i even have to say anymore? oh i do? kay. you're pretty and nice and everything, often being a pleaser of the crowd and loving the attention people give you when you're in public. while touya is always behind you, following you around and scaring people with his intense sneer alone like a guard dog. in secret when you're both alone, he pleases you instead, telling you over and over again that he doesn't like it when you wear that one mini skirt in public which is only for his eyes to see. he's jealous and a bit angry, but he won't really hurt you. just a few fueling in his touch from his flames n that's all.

FOUR .𖥔 ݁ he's the one who ties and zips every single of your dresses. yeah... whether it be a corset or just a simple zip up top or something needed to do with ribbon that you can't reach. all you have to do is just walk up to him and turn your back to him. he'll immediately settle it for you, pulling you close by holding your waist then gently tying or zipping it up for you. of course, he often resists the fact that he could've just not done all of that and burn your bare back with his piercing turquoise eyes. touya makes sure to slide his fingers down your spine everytime after he's done tying your dress or zipping it up, just to give you some chills and tease you. ★ silky ribbons

FIVE .𖥔 ݁ this guy doesn't really talk or show that much love cuz he's edgy and probably wanna come off as mysterious and uncaring. but when he needs some comfort and affection, he just... puts you on his lap and hugs your entire form like you're his little teddy. touya will not utter a single word but will instead hold you tighter around the waist and lean his entire form on you. you can obviously tell a difference by his breathing when he first set you on his lap and after a few minutes in of embracing you. he'd calm down so fast with doing this. touya probably wants you to talk a lot too, just to hear your voice and perchance.. rest his eyes on your shoulders as you quietly yap about your day.

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[pepsiiigirl]

forgotten ~ c.s

content warning! description of a panic attack, use of y/n, kissing, angst, toxic ish relationship. sweetheart!chris, chris sturniolo x y/n, boyfriend!chris, chrisxfem!reader NOT PROOFREAD ! if there's any mistakes, please lmk! enjoyyyyy

it was just after 8pm, and you were waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up for your date. it was your 3 month anniversary, and he had planned an entire dinner for the both of you. you were really excited, your outfit was one of yours and chris's favourites, it was your cute brown dress, and your hair was done up in your favourite way. you fidgeted as the time ticked, reapplying your lip combo, making sure you had everything in your bag. chris was supposed to be at your house at 8:15, and it was now 8:30. you decided to text chris.

hi love, its getting a bit late. are u almost here? 💕 read 8:33pm

read? that was weird. chris never left you on read. you took a breath and decided maybe he was just driving? you sighed to yourself as it became later, and later, and later. by 9pm, you decided to call chris. you weren't particularly mad, knowing your boyfriend gets easily distracted, but you were still a bit irked. it was your anniversary.

"chris? hello?" "y/n, hey." matt's voice came over the line and your heart sank. "oh, um, matt! how are you?" your voice shook as you tried to keep your composure. "i'm alright, what's up tho? chris is sleeping and he left his phone out here-" you froze. "he's- he's sleeping?" tears filled your eyes as your hands trembled. "it's- i-" "y/n? you okay?" matt said, worry lacing his tone. "yeah, yeah, i gotta go. bye, matt." your voice cracked as you hung up the phone.

you slammed your phone down on the centre island of your kitchen, trying to steady yourself.

did you just get stood up by your own boyfriend?

☼ ☼ ☼

you had just finished crying, your eyes still puffy and cheeks damp, when you heard a knock at your door. wiping your face quickly, you assumed it was the doordash order you'd been waiting for. but as you opened the door, the sight that greeted you wasn’t what you expected. standing there was chris, his face flushed and streaked with tears, his expression heavy with sadness. his shoulders were slightly slumped, and he looked more vulnerable than you had ever seen him before. you were taken aback, frozen for a moment. you'd never seen chris like this. you stared at him, the weight of your own hurt pressing down on your chest. the tears you thought you had under control threatened to spill again as the realization of why he was standing there hit you.

he had forgotten.

"y/n, i…" chris started, his voice trembling, but you couldn’t let him finish. "you forgot," you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet filled with so much pain. "you forgot about us. about today." his eyes widened, the guilt flooding his face as he shook his head, trying to find the words. "no, i didn’t mean to—" "you didn’t mean to?" you interrupted, your voice breaking as you spoke. "i sat here for hours, waiting for you. i thought maybe you were running late, or something came up, but… nothing. i waited. you didn’t even call. for fuck sake- matt answered your phone!" chris took a step closer to you, his hand reaching out for yours, but you pulled back, the hurt too deep, too fresh. his eyes, still red and swollen from his own tears, searched yours desperately. "i know, baby. i’m so sorry. i just-" "you forgot," you repeated, harsher this time, the anger starting to surface through your sadness. "you didn’t care enough to remember." his face crumpled at your words, and he let out a strangled sob. "that’s not true. please, y/n, you know that’s not true." "then what is it, chris?" your voice cracked, and you hated how small and broken you sounded. "i- i don't know, i'm sorry, baby." chris sobbed, hugging himself as he doubled over, his breathing becoming harsh and fast. panic washed over him and you watched his eyes widen as he began to hyperventilate. “chris?” you said, your voice trembling, but he didn’t respond. his hands were clutching his arms, his nails digging into his skin, and you could hear his breaths getting more ragged, almost wheezing. "chris, hey, hey, come on. baby, breathe,” you said, your voice trembling, trying to keep calm as you watched him spiral. "i’m- i'm so sorry, y/n- i can't-," he cried, his voice hoarse. "no, no, baby, shh, it's okay, i'm here." without thinking, you reached out and gently grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from where they were digging into his skin. “look at me, chris,” you said, firmer this time. “please. just look at me.” "i ruined everything. i forgot about our date, i—” his voice cracked, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as he buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed with guilt and panic. “i fucked up, and now… now i’m losing you.” “hey, you’re not losing me,” you said softly, pulling his hands away from his face, holding them tightly to keep him grounded. “i’m right here. we’ll figure it out, but you need to breathe, okay? just- just focus on my voice."

without saying anything, chris suddenly reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt. it was desperate, almost suffocating, like he was holding onto you with everything he had, as if letting go would mean losing you forever. his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his breath—uneven, shaky, and warm against your skin, each exhale filled with silent sobs. his whole body trembled, his chest rising and falling rapidly against yours, but his grip never loosened. if anything, he held on tighter. his tears soaked the fabric of your pyjama shirt. "i love you, i love you, please- i don't- please don't leave me-"

you pulled back just enough to look at him, his tear-streaked face showing how much he was sorry. his eyes were wide, red, and full of panic. his whole body trembled, and you could feel his breath still coming in shaky bursts, but it was the look in his eyes. “chris…” you whispered, your own voice thick with emotion. you reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the fresh tears that had spilled down his cheeks. his eyes fluttered shut at your touch, a shudder running through him as if your hands were the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. “i’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, but firmly, each word filled with as much reassurance as you could offer. “i love you too, and i’m here.” his eyes opened slowly, locking onto yours, searching for the truth in your words. his lips quivered, and he let out a shaky breath, nodding, but you could tell he was still scared—scared that the hurt he’d caused was too much, that you might not be able to forgive him. “i’m not leaving,” you repeated, leaning in, your forehead resting against his. “i promise, okay? i’m here.”

chris closed the gap between you two, and he leaned in, his hand finding the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you gently toward him. your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours. he was hesitant at first, as if he was afraid to break the fragile bubble that surrounded you both. but when he kissed you again, it was deeper, more apologetic. "i'll never forget again, okay? you're my everything, baby." chris paused to look at you again. "i love you."

"i love you too,"

the end!

youre sooo loved xoxo, mimi

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

can you please write a fanfic of lyra meeting acacia/grayson meeting her parents🫶

ofc!! i kind of wanted to do a little twist with this and instead have it be graysons brothers meeting lyra’s family bc i feel like i’ve been writing about acacia gigi and sav+ grayson and lyra a lot lately and wanted to switch it up a bit 😭😭 thanks so much for the request tho!!

also, on a side note, in the deleted scenes of tgg, lyra mentions having MULTIPLE brothers, so in this fic she’s going to have two little brothers, one being 9, and one being 4 going on 5, aka the one mentioned in the actual book. the 4 year olds name is gabriel, and the 5 year olds name is lucas. yes ik they’re basic but i thought of them quickly so don’t judge me pls 😢

synopsis: it’s meeting the family time, and lyra’s family + graysons brothers get together for a dinner. lyra’s family seems to be getting along well with the 4, except for just one person… lyra’s dad. 😬😬

Meeting the Family - lyra x grayson

———————————————————

LYRA:

I paced outside my parents’ bedroom as I waited for them to get ready. In 5 minutes, they were supposed to go to Hawthorne House to have their first official family dinner. In 5 minutes, my parents were going to officially meet Grayson. My insides were in a twisted knot, and I thought I might explode right then and there if I hadn’t felt a tug on my skirt. Looking down, I felt more relaxed once mygaze met the brown eyed boy’s.

“Catty,” Gabriel, my 4-soon-to-be-5 year old brother, had decided at 2 that instead of calling me Lyra, Catty, short for Catalina, was a much better nickname.

“Catty.” He repeated with a furrow of his brow once his first call had been ignored.

“Sorry, what is it Gabe?” I asked him, patting his gelled hair that had taken forever to do as he didn’t stop complaining once.

“Can we play legos? Mommy and Dad aren’t ready yet, and-“

“Mommy and Dad are right here, baby. We can go now.” My mother’s voice cuts in, a bright smile on her face. Both my mom and dad had done a good job of dressing up, and I felt a bit relieved although I knew Grayson and his brothers would never judge my parents on how they dressed either way. Strolling out of the bedroom that he and his brother shared, Lucas, my other little brother, was wearing the fanciest-but-not-too-fancy outfit a 9 year old could wear, with a pair of black sunglasses perched on his nose. He was wearing a little watch, and honestly, despite the put together look, he had never looked more adorable.

“You’re looking fancy, Lucas.” I said, a grin tingeing my voice. Lucas nodded, before grinning himself.

“Can we go now? Grayson is rich and I want to see his house.” Lucas said, immediately cutting to the point. My mom snorted as she took Lucas and Gabriel’s hand and led them to the car, mean while my Dad just bristled, mumbling “our house is nice too” as he followed them.

—————————————

As soon as our car pulled up to the front gates, I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping. I had seen it before, but damn, this house was huge. Even Lucas was shocked, whispering about how cool it was under his breath. One of the bodyguards escorted us inside, and as soon as the actual gates opened and they were in, I was met with Graysons patient smile. He was holding a bouquet of lilies, and the sight of him shaking my father’s hand as he greeted him made my heart flutter. He had opted for a suit, as usual, but it was more casual, almost as if he was finding ways to tell me that I could breathe, and that this entire get together wasn’t so fancy as I had imagined. As soon as Grayson had finished shaking hands with my parents and making introductions with my brothers, his eyes met mine, and I stepped forward, taking the bouquet out of his hands before he could properly give them to me.

“I’d prefer lilacs.” I deadpanned, tugging at the beautiful flowers with fake boredom. My mother snorted, but Grayson’s smile only grew as he took my hand in his and spoke.

“I’ll note that down. Welcome to Hawthorne House, Mr. and Mrs. Kane. Dinner will be officially ready in 30 minutes, but in that time…” He turned around and met my eyes, sending sparks of electricity through me. “How many of you guys would like a tour?”

I had seen Hawthorne House before. But due to the amount of “awesome”’s whispered by my brothers and the hushed remarks by my parents, they clearly hadn’t. It felt good knowing that at least my Dad, who had always been strict with dating, didn’t and couldn’t have anything bad to say about this house. Because good god it was nice. Finally Grayson takes my hand and leads us back to the dining room.

“Dinners completely finished now. My brothers are all in the dining room too, and they can’t wait to meet you guys.” Graysons states in a civilized manner. I could tell he was trying to impress my parents, but honestly, he didn’t have to try too hard. His money was doing all the work for him.

“I can’t wait to meet them.” My Dad replied. But knowing him, I could tell that there was something else in his tone. Something almost off. I turned to give him a look, but Grayson spoke and changed my train of thought.

“Then let me introduce them to you.”

I had obviously met Xander, Jameson, and Nash before in the game, and also afterwards, but my parents hadn’t yet.

“Hello boys.” My mother said, her tone polite. “It’s so nice to meet you three.” They all smiled at her, but Xander was the first to speak.

“Hello to you too! If you were to get a gift, not now, but at any given time, how would jewelry sound?” He replied. Jameson, and Nash both groaned, while muttering, “real discreet”, and, “seriously xander? those gifts were supposed to be a surprise.” My Mom had a surprised expression on her face as she realized they’d gotten us gifts, but I just turned my glare to Grayson. I said no gifts, I very clearly communicated with my eyes. He, however, wouldn’t meet my gaze and instead held eye contact with my mother. Very slick, I thought with a snort. My Mom was about to say something about how they didn’t have to do that or whatever other motherly card she always pulled, when my brother spoke up.

“Gifts are nice.” Lucas interrupted, as if trying to change the topic. “Anyway, Grayson, You said your brother has a lab. Can we check it out?” Gabriel, who was much more shy than his brother, nodded, clinging to me as he ducked his head right back as soon as everybody looked at him. I rolled my eyes at Lucas’ statement, well aware of where this conversation was going to go.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring your book of nightmares.” My Mom groaned, tutting at Lucas. I smirked as Grayson met my eyes with confusion.

“His science book,” I explained. “It is a huge book filled with tons of different science experiments, but the problem is, a lot of them require laboratory ovens.” I turned to Lucas, giving him a look. “Lucas is prone to thinking that our very not-meant-for-science microwaves count as a laboratory oven. He is also prone to lighting things on fire.” Lucas made a face, but Xander just grinned.

“Lighting things on fire is apart of science. And to answer your question, Lucas, yes I do have a lab, and yes, you are able to check it out after dinner.” Xander said, excitedly. Clearly though, he was not as excited as Lucas, as Lucas was wearing the biggest grin on his face. He turned to me suddenly, a question on his face, and I nodded, to which he immediately whirled around and faced Xander again.

“Thank you!” Lucas said, grinning. Nash smiled as he glanced between the boys, before speaking himself.

“You two are two sides of the same coin, you know. Lucas reminds me so much of when Xan was little.” He spoke, his eyes soft as he glanced between the boys. Grayson smiled then too, taking my hand and gentle pressing his thumb onto my wrist once his gaze meets mine. I already knew what he was trying to tell me by the expression on his face. Don’t worry, he seemed to be saying, everything is fine. I smiled back at him and he took that chance to change the conversation.

“Now,” He said, cutting into the conversation, “Shall we eat?”

The dinner was nearing its end, as most of the plates on the table were close to being finished. Everybody had been making conversation throughout the dinner, everybody except for my oddly quiet father, with my mother telling embarrassing stories about me growing up, and Gray’s brothers telling embarrassing stories about him. I giggled mischievously at Grayson once Jameson finished telling a story about how Grayson once skipped out on a “911”, a brotherly pact between the 4 that meant when somebody texted or said the numbers 911, then that meant the other brothers had to come, and had to stand in his underwear out in the cold on the side of a road. I could tell by the teasing looks that the other brothers were sending Grayson and the terrifying looks that Grayson was sending them that there was more to the story, though, and made a mental note to bug him about it whenever I got the chance. We were just finishing up eating when a woman that had been introduced to me as “Mrs. Laughlin” walked in.

“I hope you all enjoyed the dinner.” She said, with the slightest smile. We all nodded and gave praises to her delicious food, and that made her slight smile grow the smallest bit.

“Good to know. Now, Lyra and your family members, my husband is just in the other room having a drink. Would you like to meet him before dessert?” She asked us. I looked around at my Mom and Dad, before answering myself.

“We’d love to.” I said with a polite smile. My mother agreed and got up, grabbing my brother’s hands as soon as they got out of their seats too, before my father spoke.

“I will in just a moment, I just need to finish up my food.” He said in a kind tone, smiling at Mrs. Laughlin. Mrs. Laughlin gave the slightest nod in response before beckoning towards us to follow her. I slowed in suspicion, though, before casting my father the barest glance. He met my eyes, and I raised a brow at him, as if asking him what he was up to. He just smiled at me and turned his attention to his food, his eyes hard as he took another bite. My eyes met Grayson’s next, giving me a smile and dipping his head the slightest bit, his movements meant to ease my nerves. I blew out a breath before casting my father one last look, turning around, and following my family out of the dining room.

GRAYSON:

I knew what was going to happen throughout the entire dinner, and why Lyra’s father was awfully quiet. Keith Kane waited a moment or two as he stared at Lyra, Mrs. Laughlin, and the rest of them walk away to the sitting room, before turning to me, his steel blue eyes hard.

“How old are you?” He asked me. I could feel my brothers sending glances my way as they realized what was going on, but I didn’t meet their eyes once. I could handle this.

“23, sir.” I answered.

“And how old is my daughter?” I could tell by his tone that he already knew, but I held his gaze anyway and answered.

“20.”

“How many years are between you two, pray tell?”

“3, but we met when I was 22 and she was 19.”

“Are you a pervert?” Jameson snorted, but his expression quickly changed from the look that Lyra’s dad was giving him, and he morphed his expression into a neutral one. I side-eyed him, before meeting Keith’s gaze and speaking again.

“No, sir.” I answered. He held my gaze with a dangerous expression, before folding his hands together on the table, looking at them as he spoke.

“My daughter has never been much for boys. She has believed, for much of her life, that relationships were useless, as well as most boys.” His gaze met mine, slowly and methodically. “The fact that she’s with you tells me that, for whatever reason, she believes that you’re not useless.” For whatever reason. I tried my very best not to smile. Apparently, Lyra wasn’t the only person in the Kane family who didn’t pull their punches.

“Lyra, in the past, has tended to make the same useless boys cry in group projects. She knows her worth and will not stand for anything less than. She also likes you,” Keith Kane said, his eyes boring into mine. “A lot.” I swallowed. The way I felt for Lyra wasn’t as simple as simply liking someone. I loved her.

“I’m not going to demand that you stay away from my daughter or do a whole “touch her and I’ll kill you” bit because A, this isn’t the 1950’s where women can just be somebody’s property, and B, she’s gotten to the age where she doesn’t need my protection anymore. I am, however, going to ask you one final question,” He said, his dangerous stare from before turning sincere as his brows furrowed. “Do you love my daughter?” In my head, and in my heart, I knew the answer to that. More than anything. But I knew that a man like Lyra’s father would need more convincing, so that’s exactly what I did. I convinced him.

“A few years ago I was in a very bad place.” I admitted suddenly, making Keith’s brows furrow more. I could feel my brother’s surprised eyes turn to mine, but I wouldn’t meet their gazes. I would do anything for Lyra, and if getting her dad to trust me was one of those things, then I would sure as hell do it. “My grandfather, the only parental figure I ever really had, died, just after a girl that I had previously loved died as well. I was emotionally unavailable, and cruel, and a damn train wreck, and even though months later I had brushes with love, I still screwed it up because I was cold and hung up over a dead girl. By the time I was 20, I was convinced that there was nobody in this world who could love me, because I was convinced that I was unloveable. I was convinced that every painful moment, and every death of a loved one took that part of me away, until there was nothing left of me to love.” I paused when Keith’s hand brushed mine, remorse in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, son.” He said, sincere despite his words from before. I felt something unwind in my chest from Lyra’s father calling me “son”, but I brushed it off and continued talking.

“Me and Lyra met when I was 22. I had stopped feeling sorry for myself every moment of every waking day, and decided that maybe, I could actually do something for myself. Feel even when I didn’t want to. Cry even though tears were always a crime in my childhood. I could see a reflection of myself in Lyra, a piece of my soul in hers, and that’s when I knew that love didn’t have to be impossible for me.” I barely smiled, the ends of my lips ticking up by a hair. “I wanted to change for Lyra. Not just because I wanted her to love me even half as much as I loved her, but also because I didn’t want to hurt Lyra all because I was emotionally unavailable. And it became easier, too. Every time she opened up for me I knew that I wanted to open up for her too, to change the habits that I had been force-fed as a child and the way I loved as well. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up again, because I was so in love with her that I couldn’t bear the idea of losing her, because I knew, if I lost a girl like Lyra, I would be living the rest of my life in a state of constant mourning. You don’t move on from a girl like that. You just can’t.” I was laughing now, shaking my head.

“So, in short,” Jameson said, cutting into the heart-to-heart, “Grayson took one look at Lyra and decided he wanted to change the trajectory of the rest of his life.” Nash and Xander nodded along, muttering “yeah”’s and, “that basically summed it all up”’s. Keith Kane snorted before turning his attention to me again.

“So,” He said, his eyes twinkling. “What you’re trying to say is you love her?” I did a half shrug.

“More than anything.” I replied, the answer I had meant to give him all along. Lyra’s father held my gaze, before nodding, and getting up.

“You’re a good man, Grayson. You deserve to love, and you should feel honoured knowing that you are very loved by a girl like my daughter.” He finally said, shaking my hand across the table as I stood up too. I truly smiled then, my heart full.

“I’m very aware.” I say softly. He nods again, before turning to my brothers.

“If you try involving my daughter in your hullabaloo bullshit that you were telling me about in your stories, you very likely might wake up without all 10 of your fingers.” He said calmly. Nash, Jameson, and Xander’s eyebrows shot up, and I could see that they were trying ridiculously hard not to laugh. “No standing in underwear on the side of the road. No glitter bombing her room. And,” He turned his gaze to Xander. “Absolutely no involving her in those projects of yours where you tend to lose an eyebrow or two.” Xander just beamed, not bothered by the threat.

“So you were listening!” He said, with a grin. He shrugged.

“It got too hard to tune out your ridiculous stories.” He replied. I snorted, and was about to speak before Mrs. Laughlin walked in.

“Introductions have been made.” She said matter-of-factly as she ignored the past tension of the room. “Now,” She smiled warmly at Lyra’s family walking in as well as me and my brothers, and in my head, I could picture a life where our two families could be joined together as one. “Who wants dessert?”

——————————————————————————

while making this i saw a post saying that they wanted to see lyra’s dad call grayson “son”, and somebody sent me an ask saying they wanted a fic about lyra’s dad being overprotective so this is just me killing two birds with one stone LMFAO 😭 (tobias hawthorne who?)

[beiq2y]

NEW YEAR’S KISS¡! ❞

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀ ༊*·˚ Warnings - they kiss lol, bachira follows u arnd 😭 not in a creepy way tho!

༊*·˚ Characters - isagi, bachira, rin and sae!

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀

ISAGI has been waiting for u! Just like the wonderful best friend he is, isagi will be by your side the entire party. Making sure no one spikes your drink, ensuring no creeps are staring at you weird, and most importantly of all, keeping your lips for him and only him. When the time comes he turns you to face him gently, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he looks you in the eye. 

five. 

“ i guess there’s no one else around here but us, huh?” isagi murmers, giving a nervous giggle as you simply smile back

four. 

“ well; i supposed i wouldn’t be against my best friend stealing my first kiss” you beam, grinning as you lean in closer

three. 

isagi can smell you everywhere, the scent of your perfume filling his senses and intoxicating him. it makes him sweat, nervous to make the next move, you’re just so.. you! so perfect and so sweet, the thought of even touching you making his guts twist and turn. 

two.

you lean in closer and he thinks, “this really wasn’t how it was supposed to go..” he was supposed to be the one in charge, the handsome prince charming who would sweep you off your feet and capture you in his arms before claiming your lips as his. So.. why were you the one taking the lead instead?

one. 

isagi barely has anytime to think before you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck on his lips before pulling away, a teasing smirk gracing your face. 

Instead of feeling euphoric and over the moon like he imagined himself to be, isagi’s flustered state quickly transitions to disappointment and then confusion. were first kisses usually this.. anti climatic? 

but as he stares at your slightly rosy cheeks and small fidgety movements, isagi can’t help but bring out his ego. 

it didnt matter if this one was quick, there would be more in the future. much, much longer ones, and he would ensure to savour them all. after all, a new year meant change, right?

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀

BACHIRA chases you around. he needs to be your first kiss, he has to be! he watches you from afar(not in a creepy way ofc), following your every move and occasionally making small talk - after all, he needed to make sure you liked him enough too! he strikes while the iron is hot, leading you to a place where he’s certain you’ll be alone, just in time for the new year to begin. 

five. 

now that you were here, bachira doesn’t know what to do. he had never included a reason for dragging you to a secluded corner in his little plan, and now that you were with him,, well it was just a bit awkward, he would say.

four.

surprisingly enough, you don’t seem to be too opposed to his antics, tagging along almost as if you were grateful to be in this position, never even questioning his motive. if bachira didn’t know any better, he was sure that was what he would’ve assumed, from that gleam in your eyes to the pinkness of your cheeks.

three. 

three seconds left on the clock. at this point, there was no turning back, might as well follow through with his plan! he gives you a close-eyed smile, knowing that if he couldn’t see you, it would at least make some of his nerves go away. 

two. 

he opens his eyes after a while, giving himself a moment to take in all your beauty - the way your dress perfectly outlines your body, the body that would fit oh-so perfectly in his hands. the way your hair had been done perfectly, looking so smooth and silky that he would give up all the money in his possession to run his hands through them. and your makeup, so well done by those delicate hands of your’s, and he can’t help but wonder if your lipstick would leave a stain after the kiss. he would look good with some lipstick, wouldn’t he?

one. 

the clock hit 12 and before he could even think about making a move, you leaned in, looking him straight in the eyes as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. With that, you were quick to dash, leaving a slightly confused and very red Bachira behind, 

Oh well, a little more chasing without hurt, he supposes.

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀

RIN would be tricked into it. It had been pretty obvious that the boy had been crushing on you, HARD. With the way he stared at you in the hallways, to the look in his eyes when you were mentioned, there was no other way to describe it. So when isagi and bachira realised New Years was coming, they crafted a plan to get the two of you together.

Five.

Both you and rin were still slightly flustered from suddenly being trapped in a room together. Who would’ve expected that a casual talk with bachira would lead to a dark isolated room, before being ditched to fend for yourself when Rin itoshi showed up? It was almost the new year, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t wishing for rin to be your new year’s kiss. But the fear that he may have had someone else on his mind, that your feelings weren’t reciprocated held you back from looking for him, and stealing that kiss right off his lips. But maybe like this, you would have a chance!

Four.

“Rin, um if you don’t mind, could you possibly be my new year’s kiss? The door here is locked and i.. well I really wanted to have a new year’s kiss yk? Start the year right and all” you blurted out, a nervous grin appearing on your face. It wasn’t the best excuse, but with only 4 minutes on the clock, you simply had to make do with what you had.

Three.

To your surprise, he nodded, almost without hesitation. Could it be that.. he wanted this as badly as you did? You didn’t want to get your hopes up but just the notion of it set your heart ablaze, a sudden burst of confidence warming you from your head to your feet.

Two. 

To say he was elated would be an understatement, to rin, this is practically a dream come true! At this moment and this moment only, as rin looks your form up and down, he just might be willing to throw away his pride and thank his two um, friends for giving him this opportunity.

One. 

Rin’s still too out of his head to realise the clock’s hit twelve when you go up on your tippy toes, cupping his face in your palm and you press a kiss to his lips. ”she’s gentle and warm,” rin thinks as he reaches out for you when you pull away, desperate for more. Now that he’s had a taste of you, rin itoshi simply can’t get enough. And you’ll let him pull you back for as many kisses as he pleases.

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀

SAE would be next to you simply by luck! Now it’s no surprise that Sae itoshi the prodigy and japan’s national treasure would be surrounded by girls on new year’s date, an unspoken battle between them to steal his kiss on the start of every year. Unluckily for them, Sae has seen this coming from miles away, and before anyone can notice, he quickly slips away from the crowd of girls starting to surround him.

Five, 

There are only 5 minutes left on the clock when Sae thinks he’s finally safe, seeking shelter at the poolside, currently vacant of any people. Well, at least that’s what he thinks. All feelings of false security from before had come crashing down when he saw a tuff of hair across the pool from the corner of his eye. Sae cursed under his breath and was about to dip when suddenly, he heard a silent “Sae?”. 

Four.

Sae thinks he’s dreaming, after all, it wasn’t uncommon for him to hear your saccharine voice ringing through his head even at the most random of times. However, just to check, he whips his head around and there you are. The dazed look on your face quickly transitions to a smile and he feels one start to form on his face as well, after all, if there was one person he wouldn’t mind kissing, it would be you.

Three.

Sae starts to make his way to you, all the while checking that there was no one else around to disturb the two of you. It would be fine if someone stole his kiss but he didn’t think he could handle it if he saw some other rando connect his lips with yours. Just the thought alone made him pick up the pace, taking larger steps and reaching you in record time.

Two.

Sae hardly has time to catch his breath before you hold his hand in yours and he has to use every inch of his self control to resist blushing a bright crimson red. the feel of your smooth porcelain like skin against his calloused hand and the bright smile of your face makes him light up, a soft smile adorning his features.

One.

Seeing that the clock had struck twelve, Sae quickly gathers his composure as he begins to ask, “Can I ki-“ before he can finish his sentence, the auburn haired man is cut off by a small peck on his lips but before you can let go, he wraps his hand around the back of your head and pulls you closer, while your hand wraps around his neck.

Well, this year certainly started off with a blast.

❀——————❀——————❀——————❀

A/n: hello everyone! Happy new year 🎆 I hope 2023’s been treating u all well 🫶 also this most likely will not have a part 2 lest someone asks for one but I hope u enjoyed it! It really was so tiring writing this in a day 😭 I’m last min cramming my hw rn btw bc sch starts in 2 days, so I’m sorry if I’m not very active here. Still, I hope u all had a great hols and a very good 2023 💗 also I’m once again begging for people to interact w me, I don’t bite I promise

tags : @noheartsfromsie , @geeerage , @enraa-ged (ily pookies i hope y’all have the best year)

©beiq2y 2k23 (wow not used to that) on tumblr, pls do not steal or repost my works! 

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- slight ptsd and mentions of scars

A/N- CHILD OF THE STORM IS BACK YALL. I am SO sorry for disappearing for like, three months life's been A LOT. There's only two three more chapters left until the fic's over. I cannot believe it's been more than a year. BUT there is something new coming up very soon (tho it would be a lot sooner IF I JUST FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX THE DAMNED PLOT HOLE). Anyways, this chapter's a bit long so buckle in. And let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-65 ~and it was either going to make her stronger than ever~

Anaya stopped at the doorway. She took a deep breath before entering the ballroom.

The place was a massive hall with shiny golden walls and chandeliers that covered almost the entire ceiling. It was where all of the royal events were hosted.

And tonight, for Nikolai’s coronation, Genya had done a great job of making even the hideous Grand Palace appear endearing. 

Even though Nikolai was supposed to be the centre of attention tonight, every head turned as Anaya went in. 

Even Nikolai himself had turned to look at her.

“Great” she thought, not quite fond of the gesture. She’d already been late because she’d spent the afternoon working when she should've been preparing for the event.

She walked forward, her gown brushing against the laces of her shoes, a smile on her face.

She saw Genya and Zoya standing in a far corner, gesturing to her to come to them.

“Councillor Nasrazeen,” A man spoke up, blocking her path. “It’s an honour to finally meet you” he smiled. Though his narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow expressed how he was much more irritated to meet her.

 “Duke Verensky” he introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Duke Verensky” Anaya said, a smile plastered across her face.

“I have to say,” he began. “Ravka truly is changing its ways of working” He raised his brows. “Given how the Council is now being led by a Grisha woman”.

There it was.

When the news of Anaya’s position had reached the nobles, some had been intrigued as to why she’d become the Councillor. Others had simply refused to accept it. 

“Surely you’re aware of all the events that have happened in our country since last year,” Anaya said, her voice unwavering. “Ravka is certainly seeing changes it hadn’t ever seen before.” She tilted her head. “And perhaps it’s for the best.” 

But the Duke only narrowed his eyes further, “That we shall see” he gave a nod, walking away.

The coronation began shortly afterwards and lasted for a while. 

Anaya glanced at the clock. It’d only been an hour since she’d arrived, and yet it had felt like an eternity.

The prying eyes of the guests and their never ending questions made her want to walk out the door, but she had no other choice but to stay.

“Why exactly did King Nikolai choose you for a position that holds such great importance?” One of the guests asked.

“I believe you would have to ask his majesty himself about his decision” She offered as pleasantly as she could. 

“Still, if you had to think of a possible reason, what would you choose?” She pressed.

It’s probably because I don’t ask useless questions.

“It could be, as I’ve worked by his side during the civil war and because of my experience on foreign lands” She said. 

“Surely you would need more factors than that to be worthy of running a country” the woman said, smiling.

Why don’t you run it instead.

Anaya forced her lips into a smile, “Duchess, I-”

“I deeply apologise for interrupting you,” Genya appeared by her side. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow Miss Nasrazeen for a moment” she smiled and dragged Anaya away by her arm.

“How do I thank you for this favour Genya” Anaya let out an exasperated sigh as she went to the corner where Zoya was.

“By actually dressing up on time” Genya grinned as she rolled a single amber eye.

“That woman is a menace,” Zoya added, handing Anaya a glass of champagne.

“That I figured out” Anaya rolled her eyes, taking the glass.

“I have to say,” Genya glimpsed at her dress. “You do look good in blue”.

“‘Immensely endearing’ is the term I’d use” Anaya flashed a grin. 

She lowered her voice“ I'm surprised how you managed to turn this hideous palace appealing ”

“What can I say” Genya straightened her shoulders. “I'm very talented”.

“Where is David by the way?” She asked

Genya rolled her eye, “He left as soon as the Coronation was over. He's very repulsive to social gatherings”.

“However do you deal with him” Zoya said, shaking her head.

There was a brief silence, filled by their similar thoughts.

“It's so hard,” Zoya sighed. “Pretending to be thrilled about all this, as if nothing happened”.

Anaya gave a single nod of her head. “That's what this all is” she lifted a shoulder. “Pretending to move on, getting used to the changes, acting along in the play”.

“Atleast Nikolai’s doing it a lot better than us,” Genya said, her gaze drifting over to where he was standing.

Anaya nodded in agreement. 

Even after all he'd endured, he'd managed to keep the act going, playing the parts he was expected to.

She had no idea how he did it all, when she could do nothing to shake the feeling of her scars creeping over her, reminding her of how they came to be.

Slithering like thorned vines over her arms, her back.

The evening stretched on and the nobles continued to pester Anaya with their inane questions.

And she had no choice but to offer them and answer.

…………………………………..

Anaya stood near one of the tables at a corner, a glass of champagne in her hand. It was getting immensely difficult to get through the event without it.

She then noticed two of the grisha students silently creeping out with a bottle of champagne hidden behind their backs.

“And where exactly do you two plan to be going?” Anaya said, appearing behind them.

The Fabrikator and the Heartrender turned around hastily, trembling in fear upon the sight of her.

“Nowhere…ma’am” The Boy began, refusing to meet her gaze

But the Heartrender cut him off, “I actually needed some fresh air so I told him to go outside” She offered.

Despite being shorter, Anaya seemed to be the one looking down at them.

“And I suppose you also need the champagne to enjoy the fresh air” She raised an eyebrow.

“We-” The girl began, but Anaya's sceptical gaze stopped her from further speaking.

Anaya looked at them for a moment, “What are your names?” She said, finally speaking.

“I- Nestor Verakov”, ma’am” The boy looked at his feet.

Anaya's gaze shifted to the girl.

“Nina Zenik” she said, managing to look up.

Anaya sighed, “Fine go, just don't let the General see you” she glanced at Zoya who was surrounded by a group of First Army officials.

They barely nodded before rushing out the door.

Anaya sighed and went back to her corner before another noble could drag her off.

She looked around, taking a sip from her second glass.

“Going very fast on the champagne are we?” She turned to see Nikolai with a smile on his face. “I will need my Councillor to be able to work tomorrow you know” He walked to her side.

Anaya sighed, “Yeah yeah”.

“You know,” He stood beside her. “Even though it’s supposed to be my day, you’re the one gathering all the attention” He flashed a grin.

Anaya rolled her eyes, “These people ask the most inane questions” She shook her head. “I get people asking how I plan on bringing developments to the country,” She waved her hand. “But how am I supposed to know what kind of woman the new king would be willing to marry?” She turned her hand.

He shook his head in disdain but he was smiling, “Ah, the nobles” He tilted his head briefly. “They tend to do that quite a lot, you’ll get used to it”.

“Perhaps you should tell them that the King’s looking for a seamstress who plays the eighteen string Khatur”.

Anaya turned to him, “Why specifically the eighteen string?” She raised a brow. “Why not the twelve?”.

“I” He began. “am a cultured man Anaya” He spoke as dramatically as he could manage with the guests watching them. “The eight string is for uncultured fools, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Anaya put her glass down. “I don’t have much interest in string instruments”.

He paused briefly then spoke, “I’d have to thank you for your advice” His voice was much lower and serious.  “Really helped me get through all this”.

Anaya looked at him and gave the barest shake of his head, “Well I’m not one to offer advice,” She met his gaze. “But I’m glad I could help” Her lips formed a small smile.

……………………………………………

The topic had come up the previous morning. Anaya had been in her study, working, when Zoya and Genya had shown up to have tea with her.

“Nikolai doesn’t seem very thrilled about it,” Zoya had pointed out.

Genya nodded, “He appears distressed” She lowered her voice. “After all he’s endured, I’m not sure if he wishes to be King all the same.”

“But he has to,” Zoya said.

Genya gave a distant nod, pondering upon something. “Anaya” She turned to her.

“Hmm?” Anaya looked away from her papers. 

“You should speak with him”.

Anaya furrowed her brows, “What why?”.

Genya picked up her teacup, “He needs someone to tell him that he doesn’t need to fret about being the King”.

Anaya looked at her with an utterly confused look, “Why me? Why can’t either of you speak with him?”. 

She glanced at Zoya. “Well not her, but why can’t you do it”

Zoya rolled her eyes.

“I don’t…really speak with him” Genya said, hesitation lingering in her voice. “Given all that has happened”.

Genya had been pardoned only because of Alina Starkov. So there still was some hesitation between her and Nikolai. And Anaya had the feeling he didn’t fully trust her yet.

“Plus, he does seem to listen to you,” Zoya added.

Anaya raised her brows.

“He does, actually,” Genya agreed.

So Anaya had spoken with him. 

Not the entire day. The only time she’d seen him was when she’d been walking down the hall with the Finance Minister. 

When she’d been walking back to the Little Palace at night, then she’d seen him. Standing near the lake, almost irrecognizable.

"Nervous about the big day?" Anaya asked as she walked towards him. 

He turned to her in utter curiosity. His gaze softened upon the sight of her, "Well yeah" he sighed. "It's quite weird".

 He looked up at the night sky, the gleaming stars. "Even though I've been preparing for this my entire life, it still seems very daunting". 

She stood next to him.

 "It is understandable" she met his gaze. "I mean it's not everyday you get to be the King" she tilted her head. "It can be quite strange, when the moment you've been waiting, preparing for so long, finally comes". Her voice was low, the breeze on a summer night, making the trees waver gently. 

"For a long while, it almost seems impossible".

 "Improbable, actually" Nikolai lifted a finger, a corner of his mouth turned up.

 "What?" She said, utterly perplexed.

 "Nothing is truly impossible, it's only ever improbable".

 She nodded briefly in amusement, "Well, alright".

The silence lingered in the air, gentle, comforting, a hand held in another.

“Is this what you wanted to do?” Nikolai spoke, turning towards her.

She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“To be the council leader,  run the country?” He amended.

She looked at him, startled by the question but soon, her gaze softened. “Well, I’ve been certain for a long while” she looked at her hands. “That I wish to help the people, work for their betterment”. 

“And if being the Councillor is my way to do it, then I’m content with this job.” She lifted a shoulder.

She turned to the sky, admiring the gleaming stars, the moon at the centre of it all, shining the brightest.

She could feel his gaze on her, lingering in the silence. She didn’t look at him, she didn’t believe she could.

“It’s not easy,” he finally spoke. “Pretending to be your best version, when you’re still picking up the pieces”.

“Isn’t that what we’re all doing?,” she said, finally turning towards him. “Pretending to be okay when we’re not?”.

He nodded, looking at the sky, appearing as if he’s reminiscing.

“You’ll make a great King,” Anaya’s voice wavered in the air. 

He met her gaze, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. 

“Especially because you’ll have an immensely talented Councillor by your side” She lifted her grinning, a small grin playing on her lips.

He smiled, “That, I will”.

[lizstcore]

Helga Sinclair x fem! reader

(part 1??)

this is literally my first time writing something and posting it,and it's not too good (+, English is not my first language).And nothing much happens,sorry 😭 . I can make a part 2 tho! Also,very ooc.

` When you accepted joining a mission on discovering the lost city of Atlantis and getting a bunch of money for simply doing what you know best,you couldn't be happier. Of course,you didn't expect to actually find living atlantians in there,but that's a story for another day. Now you were busy trying to get out of an active volcano.

"Milo!" you all desperately screamed,as the linguist tried to attach a crystallized Kida to our vehicle. You turned around in a hurry, wanting to see if there was anyone left. You felt your breath get stuck in your throat at the sight of the woman who betrayed you all,the cold hearted mercenary that was willing to wipe out an entire society for some money. The woman you unfortunately fell in love with, bleeding out in the crater of an active volcano that was about to erupt.

You stopped dead in your tracks, considering your options . In a moment of desperation,you jumped out of the vehicle,despite everyone telling you to get back and drive away. You ran to Helga as quickly as you could, struggling to pick her up over her shoulders. The blonde woman looked like she was trying to say something, presumably some snarky remark,but she only managed to let out a few painful sounding coughs and whimpers

Her eyes opened and widened momentarily, her face turned from an unreadable expression into a grimace. She was visibly uncomfortable, her teeth gritting painfully and her eyes closed in pain. She gave a sharp intake of air, which triggerd a deep, harsh cough. The red blood which stained her lips made her look almost demonic as she opend her eyes again and fixated your gaze for a moment. She did not appear to recognize you at first, but then the color began to slowly return to her face.

"Get me...out of here.. I'll be fine." she mumbled , trying to avoid your gaze

You immediately panicked and rushed to your vehicle, quickly pushing Helga inside while you put on your seat belt. Even as she laid hurt and half unconscious next to you,she was still very intimidating.

A few days passed by quickly,and everything was going pretty well. You and the crew returned from the Atlantis mission with more treasures than you've ever seen before,and an incredible discovery. While the others were busy trying to forget about everything Rourke did to the entire Atlantian civilisation,you spent most of your time in the hospital with Helga.

"I got you some stuff....check this out, it's an Atlantian dress! This would look beautiful on you!" you said excitedly, showing Helga the beautiful item of clothing. She scoffed and closed her eyes.

"Not my style. How long 'till I get out of this nightmare?" she asked, clearly done with everything that has happened in the past days

"A few days, don't worry... it's a miracle how you managed to survive that fall. The doctors are super shocked about your recovery." She chuckled,which was surprisingly attractive.

"I'm a tough gal,eh?...." she chuckled,then paused, looking like she wanted to ask something. Before she could open her mouth,you interrupted her.

"Yes,Rourke is dead. Yes, you're the one that finished him off,more or less" you smiled softly as you saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards. You haven't seen her actually smile in a while,it was a beautiful sight.

"Is that so?" she mumbled softly, clearly trying not to grin but failing miserably. Yeah,no one liked Rourke. You let your hand fall by your side,not noticing Helga's hand resting against the side of the hospital bed. Your hands brushed against eachother,and your touch starved ass immediately started sweating nervously. Yet no one moved.

"I...really like you, y'know... you're very strong. Emotionally and physically." you felt the urge to compliment her,and couldn't help yourself as you saw a literal goddess in front of you.

"Thank you,little girl" she smirked, teasing you.

"Hey now, I'm only a couple years younger!"

"Mhm..."

You couldn't help but look at the way her muscles flexed against the thin material of the hospital clothes. In fact,you looked so much you forgot you were even having a conversation with her.

"Getting quite distracted,I see. Just wait until I get out of here, sweetheart" she knew how much her teasing was affecting you,yet she continued. How awfully cruel... You felt your face getting red,and ignored your heart beating faster and faster.

You kept awkwardly chatting,until...

"They hate me, don't they?" Helga blurted out suddenly,as you bit you lip. She probably won't care less,so you decided to tell her the truth.

"They haven't forgiven you for betraying us... neither have I. You're lucky I get attached too easily. They got a bunch of treasures and valuable junk from Atlantis while I was busy getting Joshua to treat you...but I can't say I regret it" her emotions visibly changed all throughout your small explanation,but she finally looked at you with some sort of appreciation. She would never admit it though.

"If I knew you'd be here to annoy me all day before that motherfucker threw me out of the air balloon,I would've thrown myself" she joked with a smirk on her face. She was still cold... alright...you could work with it. It was getting pretty late,and you felt a bit nervous about sending more time with her. Even if you wanted to.

"I'll think I'll go home... goodbye,Helga. I really hope your recovering goes well."

The second the word "goodbye" came out of your mouth,she wanted to jump off the hospital bed and push you back on the chair (or in bed with her). She wasn't used to so much loneliness,she could usually get men at her feet whenever she wanted (either wanting to kiss her,or begging for help). Even if she did prefer being alone ,not having anyone to talk to was different. Especially if that someone was you. She hated it,but she was starting to get attached.

"... goodbye. You'll come visit,yes?" she asked trying to cover her nervous tone .You chuckled. Obviously you would.

"Yes."

[dracomalfoy7]

The Other Half | IV

PART III

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader Fling!Marco Flint x Slytherin!Reader Harry Potter x Sister!Reader

Summary: Harry Potter's twin sister y/n Potter transfers to Hogwarts during the third year. With Harry being a Gryffindor being sorted into Slytherin was hard enough. Now having to battle the shadow that comes with being the twin of the chosen one. On top of being the only girl on the Slytherin Quidditch team. In the notorious cold-blooded house, y/n leans on the Bronze 5. Eventually falling for the pureblood prince, himself Draco Malfoy.

Word Count: 948

Warnings: Retired Voldy AU, Angst, Fluff,

A/N: Sorry this part’s a little shorter than normal😅. I will release the next part very soon tho and I promise it's much longer!!

The next morning, the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, gently waking you from your sleep. Your heart raced with excitement and a touch of nerves, knowing that today was the day you would prove yourself in the quidditch tryouts. You threw the covers off and headed straight to the bathroom to get ready, the excitement building with every step. After a quick shower, you pulled your hair back into a high pony and put on your old practice gear — black athletic pants, a well-worn practice jersey from Ilvermorny, and, of course, Nimbus 2000.

Pansy was still asleep when you left the dorm, but Blake stirred, glancing at you sleepily from her bed.

"Good luck, Y/N," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "You’ll kill it."

"Thanks, Blake," you whispered back, grabbing your broom and heading out the door.

As you made your way to the pitch, the crisp morning air filled your lungs, helping calm your racing thoughts. The field looked almost magical under the early morning mist. You spotted Blaise, Enzo, and Draco at the far end, already warming up. Marcus Flint, looking smug as ever, was standing at the center of the pitch with a clipboard and captain cuff, clearly getting ready to evaluate everyone.

You walked up to your group, who were all dressed in matching green and silver. Blaise grinned when he saw you approaching.

"Look who finally decided to show up, nice jersey" he teased, nudging Draco. "Ready to prove yourself, Potter?"

"As if there was ever a doubt," you replied, flashing a confident smile.

Draco gave you a long look, his eyes unreadable, before he turned back to adjusting his gloves. Enzo, ever the enthusiastic one, clapped you on the back.

"Let’s show them how it's done, Y/N," he said, his grin wide. "You’ve got this."

Marcus gathered everyone around, barking out instructions about the tryout format. You were going to be judged on everything from speed to accuracy to teamwork, and it was clear from his demeanor that this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. But you thrived under pressure, and these 3 days will be no different.

As you kicked off into the air, the wind whipping past your face, all your nerves melted away. The feel of the broom beneath you, the rush of adrenaline as you zoomed across the field — this was where you felt most at home. It wasn’t long before you were weaving in and out between the other players, dodging bludgers, and catching quaffles just like when you were at Ilvermorny.

After the first day, all you did was go to classes, eat, study, and go to bed. No one out of the 5 dared to distract you. Blake and Pansy didn’t even want to ask you how the first day of classes went. Every time you were in the air at tryout you could feel the entire team watching your every move.

You could feel the eyes of the entire team on you as you dodged Flint’s attempts to score. His smugness faded with every failed attempt to get past your defense. The other players, even the veterans, seemed impressed, and you could hear Enzo and Blaise cheering you on from below.

After the last solid two hours of intense drills, Marcus called the tryouts to a close. You landed softly on the grass, panting but exhilarated. Flint walked over to you, a begrudging look of approval on his face.

"I’ve gotta hand it to you, Potter," he said, crossing his arms. "You exceed my expectations every time I see you. We could definitely use someone like you on the team even if you are a girl."

"Does that mean I’m in?" you asked, unable to hide the hopeful smile creeping onto your face.

Marcus hesitated for just a second before nodding. "Yeah, you’re in. Tryouts officially end tomorrow, but there’s no point dragging it out."

You felt a wave of triumph wash over you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a victorious laugh. The boys — Enzo and Blaise — walked over, clapping you on the back and congratulating you.

"I knew it," Enzo said, beaming. "I knew you’d get in."

"Well done, Potter," Draco said coolly, but there was a glint of respect in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

The adrenaline still surged through your veins as you headed back to the castle with your friends, excitement bubbling inside you. Blake and Pansy were going to freak when they found out you made the team. You could already hear Blake’s squeal of excitement in your head.

As you all approached the Slytherin common room, Blaise turned to you with a sly grin.

"Guess we’ll have to throw tomorrow’s party in honor of our newest team member."

"Just as long as I’m not dead tired for our first practice," you said, laughing.

Draco looked at you, his expression unreadable once again. "You’ve earned it. Just don’t get too cocky on us, Potter."

You smirked, playfully bumping his shoulder. "Don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll save my arrogance for our first match."

Inside the common room, your triumph was celebrated with high-fives and pats on the back. But despite the camaraderie, your mind wandered to Marcus Flint’s lingering gaze. The quidditch captain had taken an interest in you. But deep down you knew that there was something else brewing in you.

But for now, you were content. You were officially part of the Slytherin quidditch team, and no one — not even Marcus Flint — could take that away from you.

PART V

tags: @venomsvl @kaverichauhan @marplest @ghayosdrafts @babydaddy69

Join the taglist!

[imagintheworldaway]

Moral of the story PT2

the long awaited sequel !

read part one here!

requests are open

Scrolling TikTok was usually a bit of a break for me. I had just finished filming a video with Lux and I was taking a break before I had a shower to scrub off my makeup and have a little self care evening. Everything was sweetly mind-numbing until a clip caught my eye. I turned up the volume as I saw an original clip from Harry and Is Vegas wedding. It was the clip of us leaving the chapel, me in my short baby doll white dress and veil longer than my actual dress, and Harry in a tieless suit with his top buttons undone. We were only teens in this clip, back when it was us two against the world. The clip cut and I saw Harry on screen. “It’s the hardest thing to talk about really” He said and then it cut to Ethan. “They were so in love, we were jealous, not only was it great content but it was so real” the screen then cut back to Harry. “What happened?” a voice said from behind the camera. “I don't know, she obviously wasn't happy, it broke my heart, i loved her, and she just threw it all the way, like it was nothing, like, how can you be so horrible, cruel, i-” Harry had started rambling before catching his tongue and the clip swapped back to SImon “she truly broke his heart, it hurt all of us” he said looking into the camera. And that's where the clip ended, and my rage started. Yes I asked for the divorce, but how was he not happy? How can he lie about me like that? None of them ever reached out to me, asking if I was ok, how the hell dare they. It had been over three years, the divorce was over and done with, we had talked through it so many times, we had talked to our friends, addressed the fans, even appeared together a handful of times in different videos. I thought we were all finally in a good place again. Obviously I was wrong.

The day was as bleak as my mood. I felt bad for anyone that saw me as I was contemplating murder right now. All I could see was red, and there was only one man I was going to aim this anger at. I had rang Talia and she had told me that the boys were filming at a studio I was all too familiar with. It was only a short walk from where I lived, I quickly turned my anger into determination as I mapped the streets in my head and my muscle memory almost flew me to the warehouse. I stormed through the door, I couldn’t care less if they were in the middle of a shoot. I had a score to settle. 

I stormed through, past the crew, people tried to stop me but no one had the chance. I stopped abruptly on the set but not quite in front of the cameras. They were shooting some type of game show but my rage just intensified when I saw my target. “You fucking arsehole” I shouted, my fists balled at my sides as I stood staring down my target. Everyone went silent and looked at me, most faces in pure shock to even see me. “Say something you twat, or did you say it all in your stupid fucking documentary” I spat in Harry’s direction. “Uh- I-“ he stuttered. I just stood there, staring daggers.

No one said anything, just watched like an old western movie, two people in a standoff. “I’m not leaving until I have answers, so keep staring” I said through gritted teeth. “Uh take five everyone” I heard Kon say somewhere to my left. Everyone stayed still for a moment, no one wanting to move first, before the crew started busying themselves and the other boys just stood there stunned. I waited as Harry took his time to walk over to me. “Can we do this outside? '' he said, not looking at me. “So chat shit about me to the entire world but can’t sort it in front of your mates, spineless dick” I snapped, “oh and none of you are off the hook either” i spat pointing my finger at all the boys. I grabbed Harry's forearm, spinning around and walking to the door. 

“Y/N I-“ he started before crumpling under my stare. “You what Harry? Thought you’d save yourself by slandering me?” I said “look at me, Atleast give me that” I said my voice faltering. “I thought we were cool, i thought you understood, i thought we had all figured this out” i had pleaded with him. “I didn't mean for it to come off like that” he sighed, “then what? How did you mean for it to come off, cause I've had so much hate already, I don't know if I can go through all of this again "I said, slinking back into myself a little. “Come on, I love you Y/N” he said, his voice strained as he reached for my arm. I jerked back, almost instinctively for a moment, seeing the hurt wash across his face as I let my emotions run free. “No, no, no. You do not deserve to say that to me” I seethed, starting to feel the tears prick at the corner of my eyes. “You hurt me” I spat, pointing my finger accusingly at Harry. He looked lost like a little puppy, and if I was still the woman he had married, I would have crumbled, apologised, and comforted him, telling him it was ok and we can forget this ever happened. But this time I cannot forget. “And you didn't hurt me?” he quipped back. “I never said i didn’t, the difference is you care so much about what your friends and fans think about you, about us, that it's easier to slander me just to make yourself out to be the good guy” the tears had slowed down now, but i can already guarantee my makeup is fully fucked. 

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I gathered myself. “I loved you Harry, so fucking much. I thought you were it for me, you were my forever, but this, it turned so toxic, it turned into pleasing everyone but ourselves. And the fact that you still can't see that all these years later. Well, you need to let go, "I said, trying to get through to him. “And then what? I lose you forever?” He sounded so desperate and so unsure. “I don't know, but you need to let go, neither of us can grow if you don't” I almost pleaded with him. “Fine, i’ll try, but this won't happen overnight,” he sighed. “I know that, but please, if you really do still love me, try” it wasn’t a lot, but for now, these words will have to do. I quickly composed myself, turning back to a stoic version of myself, putting my guard back up “Just know, if you ever pull anything like that again, i will air all of our dirty laundry”

[captain-mj]

I beg of you- on my hands and knees- to please write more Warrior! Ghost and Spoil! Soap-

I crave it-

Totally chill if you don't wanna tho! Take your time, do what you wanna do!

Love your writing and TikToks regardless!

Hell yeah! I've been getting a ton of requests and I'm super excited for this part!

Also, I did put this on ao3 under the same name. If any of you guys are on there!

Soap was slow to get out of the bathtub. Very slow. He waited until the water had went from tepid to bone chilling when he slunk out of it. 

It gave him plenty of time to think about his… predicament. 

The thing was, he wasn’t scared Ghost was going to kill him. Despite grabbing his weapon, he didn’t look like someone who was about to stab a man. 

He looked at him with a disturbing hunger. Soap had stared into him, seeing something half starved stare back. And then Ghost had left him. 

Soap carefully reached his hand out of the door to grab the clothing. He couldn’t see Ghost but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. 

The clothes were far too big, falling around him almost comically. Ghost’s shirt hit his mid thigh and Soap had to lace the pants up tight to keep them from falling down his hips. He chanced a look in the mirror, a little surprised. 

Soap had dalliances before. Mostly with women but men too. He looked like them. Some pretty lass or lad who had stolen his shirt. Was that on purpose?

No. Ghost was just tall and big and Soap was… a little more average sized. The comparison was just in his head. 

He finished getting dressed and that’s when he made a decision. Clearly Ghost wasn’t as nice as he was trying to play himself to be. His reputation had preceded him by quite a bit. Playing coy now wasn’t going to get Soap to trust him. 

So Soap was going to test him. He unlaced the top part of the shirt slightly, letting it show off a bit more of his chest. He fixed his hair so it fell a little more artfully and a little less staticy mess. 

Maybe he could convince Ghost to get him some things to fix his hair better. Seducing him might make him a little more apt to give him stuff. Though, Ghost hadn’t exactly been treating him badly. 

Soap thought of the hunger in those eyes again and shuddered.

Sick bastard. 

He left the bathroom and went looking for him. Ghost was on His bed, laid out, still fully clothed. He had taken his boots off but still had his socks off. If Soap didn’t know any better, he’d think he was asleep. His arms carefully crossed across his chest. 

The floor under Soap creaked and he looked up, staring at Soap.

“I knew those clothes would be too big for you.” His eyes stayed on his face the entire time. 

“Why did you give them to me?” Soap puffed his chest out a little, hands going behind his back.

“I don’t want to deal with your corpse when you die from the cold.���

“Ah…” Soap flushed down and he saw it. Saw Ghost’s eyes follow the color down.

“Come here.” Ghost mumbled and Soap followed. Here it was. Proof that Ghost whatever his last name is was an monst-

Ghost had gotten leather cuffs with fur inlining. He shoved Soap to his side of the bed and rolled over, facing away from him again. 

Soap blinked, looking down at himself. No, he looked good. Had he misjudged the situation? Or was Ghost just very good at self control?

Only one way to find out. 

Keep pressing. 

In the morning, Soap watched Ghost cook instead of looking around. He had done plenty of that yesterday. Nothing in the house held any particular interest. There were no escape routes besides the door. The windows were either too narrow for him to fit through or led straight into someone’s garden. Not to mention almost all of them were covered in thick fabric or pelts, basically anything that would prevent someone from looking in. 

Ghost was interesting though. He cooked quickly, efficiently and, in what was a shock to Soap considering where Ghost was from, did season his food. Maybe not as well as Soap would’ve, but it explained why the stew was so good.

A plate was shoved at him. 

“Are you seriously still not going to eat with me? You saw me as naked as the day I was born yesterday. Can’t even lift up your mask?”

“I didn’t look.” Ghost stared him down.

“What?” That caught Soap off guard. “Are ya suddenly a gentleman? You threw me over your shoulder like a rowdy toddler the other day but you wouldn’t take a look?”

“I didn’t look.” Ghost said a little more firm. He looked away from Soap, like he was ashamed, but Soap had a feeling he was telling the truth. 

“Do you want to? I have some stunning tattoos.” Soap was taunting him again, testing him. Ghost just needed to push a little. It’s all Soap wanted.

“No.” Ghost turned away from him and fixed himself a plate, leaving Soap to stare at his back. He walked off with it, disappearing somewhere in the house. Soap didn’t go looking for him. 

The food was, again, pretty good. Fancy a warrior knowing how to cook so well. 

Soap waited until Ghost was polishing his blades to take one, gently throwing it back and forth between his hands. “They’re pretty. Make them yourself?”

“No. Have a friend that does it.” Ghost watched him carefully, hand following the blade as it arched through the air. “Be careful. Don’t want you cutting yourself.”

Soap hummed. “You should know I’m good with my hands by now.” Ghost’s hands clenched hard and he glanced away. 

“Don’t need them rusting.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. They must be expensive.”

“A fair penny, but quality is worth it.”

“Aye, just like whores.” Ghost flinched. The action caught Soap so off guard he took a half a step back.

“Aye. Just like whores.” Ghost echoed his statement, looking at him heavily. “Considering you were free, what does that make you?”

Soap flushed all over. “Ah fuck off you bawbag.”

“Speak English, MacTavish.” With Soap still standing up and Ghost sitting down, he had to look up. Unlike when Soap was on that couch, Ghost could actually make out his features. But Soap could see his eyes. This close, with most of the kohl rubbed off, Soap could make out his eyelashes. Pretty, blond and full. 

“You a bonnie under that mask?” Soap asked softly, feeling the sudden tension as he leaned forward. “That why you cover up?” 

Ghost looked trapped for once and it sent a thrill through Soap. “Ah. Worried I’ll jump your bones?” He leaned a little closer.

The hit wasn’t hard. It clearly wasn’t meant to hurt him, just get some distance. Landed right in his gut though and took his breath away.

Ghost stood up and it wasn’t that hunger Soap had been searching for. It was rage. Harsh and unsettling and directed right at him. 

Stupid. Stupid fucking idea.

Soap started to back away desperately. Hoping for a way out he knew wouldn’t be there. He hit the wall and froze as Ghost advanced on him. 

When Ghost’s fist came up, he tensed and his eyes shut quickly. The blow never came. After a moment of quiet, he opened his eyes to see Ghost’s not even an inch away from.

“Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again. Don’t fucking call me pretty or a bonnie or whatever dumb shit your brain comes up with. Understood?”

Soap nodded slowly, finding it hard to breath. 

“Listen to me, closely. Because I’m not going to repeat myself. You’re here because I wanted to piss off my general. That’s it. I don’t want sex from you. I don’t want your compliments. I don’t want you to appeal to my better nature because I don’t have one. If you need something, tell me and I’ll try to get it for you. But we’re not fucking friends.”

Soap stared into those eyes. He thought he had seen them once. A sword had went through his side and there he had met death. 

Today, he must’ve met him again. 

“Yes, sir.” Soap got out. “I’m sorry.”

Ghost pushed away and Soap realized the blow he had been expecting had landed by his head. The wall had a slight dent from it. He tried not to think about that. 

“You cut yourself.” Ghost commented after a moment. Soap looked down to see that yes, he did indeed do that. He also tried not to think about the fact that he had a weapon and it did not cross his mind once to use it. 

Ghost grabbed alcohol from his cabinet and bandages. 

“I can do it myself.” Soap tried weakly but Ghost just ignored him. He took off his gloves to bandage him. Soap decided to focus on those instead of his own. Ghost could handle his cuts. 

They were callused. Little scars all over them, probably from similar things to what Soap had just done. The guy handles knives for a living and you have to start somewhere. 

No rings. But right at the edge of his shirtsleeve, Soap thought he caught a flash of a bracelet. 

“Done.”

“Thank you.”

Ghost grunted in response and put the alcohol away. Soap took note of that.

“What’s your name?”

“Ghost.”

“No. Like.. your actual name. Doesn’t have to be the full one, but I’m curious.”

Ghost was quiet a while. So long that Soap assumed he was being ignored. He watched him put everything up and then clean the bloody blade.

“Simon. Haven’t been called it in a long time, but it’s Simon.”

“Simon. Good name. Suits you.”

[angxlofvenus]

ohhh my gosh your writing is so darn lovely! im also very happy that you also put love on asmo's parts bc he needs sm of it!! argh!!

anyways, i would love to req a soft mc! the kind of mc that's-

in flowy clothing, facing the field of sunflowers and the sea as one of them watches their hair flow through the wind. mc realises that their lover is behind them, so they turn and smile sweetly with the golden rays of the sun making mc look like a painting...

id like to request all of the brothers if thats fine! but i dont mind if u only use a handful of characters :) make sure asmo is there tho! >m<)

Hi!! Thank you sm for the request! Sorry it took so long to get done, I made a more small scenario route for each of them instead of headcanons but I hope the point still got across ! 💗

genre: fluff Ship: The Brothers x reader Tw: soft mc, gender neutral mc, the author knows nothing about flowers/where they grow, Spoilers to OG! Om! Chapter 16, Beel and Belphie's part get a lil angsty, References to the Celestial War, kind off ooc Wordcount: 1107 Not proof read !

Complete with you.

A picnic date between you and him located in a grassy field in the human realm has him thinking of you just a little more tenderly...

Lucifer

He is always busy, Busy with work, with Diavolo, With his brothers- He never gets a break

He stands in a field of tall grass, Him several steps behind you. He holds a picnic basket in one hand as he watches you pass through the brush with ease

Your hair, shining in the sun, A halo-like effect softly surrounding your body as your shirt/dress glided in soft ripples beneath the wind

“Luci, come on! I found the perfect spot!” You’d glance back at him, A huge smile on your face.

And he is weak, He feels his knees almost give out as he looks at you, He had never seen anything so blissful as you.

Speeding up his steps, He catches up to you as the blanket you were carrying is laid out on the ground below your feet- He sets the wicker basket full of food and drinks down

laughs and fun fill the time as you all eat and talk, His attention never leaves yours, The way your eyes are so bright, The way you laugh at his little jokes, Jokes he only makes to see you smile. 

He dreads when the two of you will have to return to the House of Lamentation. When the brother's bickering will fill his ears instead of your soft voice, But for now- The only people to exist is you and him. And he will forever cherish this.

Mammon

He isn’t the best with his words, He knows he can be a jerk sometimes because he doesn’t know how to regulate his emotions but right now? Everything is different right now.

He follows you through the field in a blur, He doesn’t remember the journey or any of the beauty of the human world he rarely sees because he was looking at you the entire time.

And now, He walks hand in hand with you to wherever you're taking him, He doesn’t care as long as he gets to be by your side.

The two of you lay side by side in the grass in the spot you picked, The clouds above you sway above you. He hears your contempt sigh as you fully relax, But Mammon has his eyes on you- only on you.

It’s times like these when he is so close to you- He can’t help but let his love fall from his mouth, In sweet promises and words of eternal love.

Words of eternal love are whispered between the two, Nobody else will ever get in the way of them, Mammon will always fight for that.

Levi

The small picnic date in the human world had been scheduled for weeks, Levi had tried not to overthink it, But he was not only going on a date with you, You! But it's also in the human world?!

The sun hit his back as the two of you stood at the edge of a pond, nobody was around- The only sounds were of the wind and your voice. Levi felt whole as he got to just exist next to you as you cooed at the small fish swimming around.

He couldn’t help but reach out for your hand, All nerves being thrown to the wind, as You rested your head on his shoulder.

When in a world where he can be completely himself, In a world where the only person he cares to take in is you.

Satan

Satan had been waiting for a day like this, Just you and him, Some sun, and relaxation.

And he was right, This is exactly what he needed

He rested his back against a large oak tree while you laid your head in his lap- He had been reading to the two of you, His voice breaking through the nearly silent air around you all.

Your eyes slowly opened as he stopped speaking, His face looked down at yours, He didn’t say anything, Just took you in. “What?” You giggled.

“Nothing, I just have never felt calmer than in this very moment, Thank you mc.”

Asmo

A cute DevilGram-worthy date? Sign him up, He’s already packed!

He basked in the sun as you led him to a flower field, Lush colors surrounded the two of you as you laid out the picnic made for two

A light breeze waved the flowers back and forth as you placed a flower crown upon his head, In return he tucked a white Lily behind their ear, Basking in each other's presence, Asmo knew he would take the flowers home and later on press them into a photo album filled with only him and Mc.

For now though, He will take enjoyment in having nothing but beauty around him, Anything he could ever want in the world is right here with him.

Beel

You had him sold at picnic cmon now, That’s how he found himself carrying not one, but two baskets while you walked in front of him holding the third.

The tall grass crashed underneath them as Mc laid out the blanket, Quickly bring Beel to the ground with them.

The food wouldn’t last long, You both knew that, But to have an afternoon spent in the comfort of eachother.

The wind softly waved through your hair as He basked in just you, After the fall, Beel felt like he would never feel such peace again, And for a long time, He didn’t. It was only when you came along and not only helped heal his brothers but also helped him to grow from his guilt and learn that it wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever thank you enough for the love you have shown him.

Belphie

He woke up to hands combing through his hair as he felt the sun beat down on the picnic you had made for two.

His head lay in your lap as you spoiled him, A tranquil moment in time. Nothing could break the bubble you all had created around yourselves- The way your soft laugh had brought him to sleep as you had treated him not like the demon he was- But a fragile and precious creature instead.

He rarely tells you, But the nightmares of his wrongings have haunted him, The thought of his hands around your throat has broken him from deep sleep many times, and it scares him. It scares him that he could hurt you like that, But as the two of you lay in the human world, Something he never thought he’d do again, Filled with nothing but love for eachother. 

He has hope, Hope for the two of you and hope for himself.