#but I dont want this ask to go unanswered for long so here you get my current thoughts/opinions on him now

[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 <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.

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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 :(

[zeltqz]

MIND GAMES | ran haitani

length. 5.9k words

synopsis. final part - you finally lose your V to ran hehe

authors note: so i finally got over my nervousness and wrote the fluffiest smuttiest shit i ever oh my god my fingers just dont stop typing when it comes to this man ANYWAY ENJOYYYYYYYYY @sleeplessreader @nimbixan @christmassugarcookies @ransbaby@scarletbedlam @ranhaitaninumberonefans @wenumsmol @jordanisgae

Ran sets his controller down on his lap when you text him; not even wasting a second before unlocking his phone, lightspeed. Rindou rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head they almost get stuck, clearly agigated when Ran just tosses out his attention span the second he gets a text from you.

‘ Whipped ’ is what Rindou likes calling it, noticing how his brother would rather drop everything he’s doing, even going as far to cancel all his plans if the opportunity arises to talk to you.

“So you’re really just going to leave me to fight a 2v1 by myself?” Rindou’s question goes unanswered and he groans watching his character’s health bar deplete by the second. “Dude?!”

Hey, what are you doing? 

Ran clicks on your messages, totally unaware of the uninvited smile creeping onto his face as he types back.

Just playing some games with my brother. Why?

His tongue pokes out to his cheek as he sees the three dots popping up and down rhythmically as you form a response. 

“Ran, if I lose this battle, I will never forgive you.” 

“Shut up, you’ll be fine.” Blindly, his spare hand aimlessly searches around his lap for the controller to shut his brother up when his phone vibrates on his lap once more.

No no reason, I just wanted to talk to you, but you are busy so I’ll call you later

The little hope Rindou has left when he sees Ran’s character take a step forward, ready to aid him through fighting the monster is gone the second Ran’s attention and wandering hands go back to his phone.

“Are you kidding me?!” Rindou’s character falls, evaporating into thin air and his eye twitches. “Fuck off, I’ll go call Kakucho or something, you useless piece of—”

His rant lands on deaf ears as Ran continues to ignore him, kicking his feet onto the couch, eyes glued onto that phone like it’s his lifeline.

I’m not busy, c’mon, talk to me . Everything ok/?

His long hair rests on his shoulders, his slender fingers playing with the ends of it as he anxiously waits your response.

Everythings fine, promise. Just wanted to talk to u 

Stop being so cute its killing me honestly.

Shut up..

He loves the way he can hear your voice through the message, the playful tint in your phone as you’d push him away whilst trying to hide your flustered face from his gaze. 

It’s become his new favourite hobby, to tease you till you can barely look at him. 

We’re still on for tomorrow right? He asks and distantly, he hears Rindou talking shit about him to Kakucho from the corner of the kitchen, then proceeds to invite him over to help him finish the damn game.

“I’m right here, y’know?” Ran calls out, leaning his head back far around over the couch to look into the kitchen, snickering when Rindou puts up his middle finger and continues to cuss him out over the phone whilst looking into the fridge.

Yeah, tomorrow is fine. 

You respond back with a heart emoji at the end that makes his own heart beat twice as fast. He’s not sure why you have such an effect on him; how you managed to invade his thoughts at any moment throughout the day, how he would jump over any object just to grab his phone if it was at the far end of the room when it dings, the disappointed look on his face when he realises the text wasn’t from you.

On a scale of 1-10, how angry would you be with me if I came over right now?

He decides to test the waters and asks. If your answer is anything higher than a 7, he’ll stay at home and wait till tomorrow, but anything less than that; he’s hopping on his motorcycle and risking it all just to see you.

8. Stay ur ass at home ran my dad is here for the week

Fuck’s sake.

He frowns, untwisting his finger from his hair and sighs.

Bruh cant he fuck off and stay in his own house? So unfair.

There’s a short gap between your replies, and he uses it to head over to the kitchen, towering over his younger brother, placing the flat of his palm against the top of his head and drags him away from the fridge with zero effort.

“Ran, get off me !” Rindou struggles to escape his brother’s grip, practically fighting for his life as Ran’s lazy eyes scan over the contents in the fridge. 

He’s too tired right now to cook actual food and there’s no leftovers for him to reheat. 

“Ran, I’ll kick you.” Rindou threatens when he finally rids himself from Ran’s clutches. “You’re extra annoying today.” He grits out, dusting his clothes, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as if he didn’t just get manhandled in his own house.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Ran closes the fridge with a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Take it as you want, I don’t care.”

Ran rolls his eyes when his phone chimes twice and he doesn’t have to look at it to know who it is. Rindou clicks his tongue, grabbing his flask and downing it with ease. He needs the alcohol to get him through the day, especially when Ran is like this.

It’s an image attachment rather than a message and he opens it; immediately knowing why it took you longer to respond than usual.

You grace him with a perfect angle of your hands splayed over your bare chest, your nipples playing hide and seek behind your fingers. From the looks of it, your back looks arched slightly from the curve of your waist and at the very top of the photo, your bottom lip is being bit down onto subtly with your teeth. His eyes trail down to your stomach, captivated by the way your shorts ride up your thigh—

He needs to get his hands on you. Fuck waiting.

Rindou looks over his brother’s shoulder, eyes blowing wide and jaw dropping to the floor as he gasps an “Oh my God—”

Ran shuts his phone off and fights the urge to punch his brother into next week, hoping the hit is hard enough to give him memory loss. 

“Is that the girl you’re talking to? Shit, what’s her name?” He takes another sip of his drink when Ran brushes past him to grab his shoes. “Oi, don’t ignore me!”

“Just shut up, I gotta go.” 

You fiddle with the tips of your nails anxiously, fidgeting on your bed, physically unable to stay still as you allow your thoughts to take control. Does he not like it? Is it too much? Is that why he hasn’t responded? Did I cross a line? Sending it without permission? Did he block me?

The last one seemed to have worked in heightening your anxiety, fingers now moving to delete the image and pretend you had never sent it; though you know he saw it because the words READ staring at you like a slap in the face.

You almost jump out of your skin when your phone vibrates from underneath your body five minutes later, hidden deep within your sheets as you fish for it. 

Come outside.

It’s a simple message, yet still has your brain muddled. Once connecting the dots, your face flushes, mouth parting slightly and dart your eyes to your keyboard.

Don’t tell me youre outside…. 

You walk over to your window and slam a  hand down on your windowsill to stabilize yourself as you look outside, spotting Ran’s motorcycle at the end of the street. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, you think, pulling your phone out and dialing his number you shamelessly admit you know by heart.

He doesn’t even let it ring for two beeps before he’s answering, repeating his text message out loud as he says, “Come outside.”

You always forget how deep his voice is, how it has that subtly provocative undertone with a bite of playfulness when he’s in the mood. “Ran—I can’t, you know this—” The deep rumble of your dads laughter fills the house; he’s always so loud, as if he knows you’re planning to sneak out and is laughing extra loud downstairs to remind you he’s home. “My dad will ask questions.”

“Well, you shoulda thought ‘bout that before you sent me that, shouldn’t you?”

You groan, fingers scrunching up a lone piece of paper on your windowsill as you eye his motorcycle again, eyes flitting across the room to your jacket resting your desk chair. “Fine…” You grumble, keeping him on the line as you slip out of your shorts and into some jeans, grabbing your coat on the way out.

You intended to sneak out successfully, making as little noise as possible when you walk past the hallway behind the living room but the door let you down, creaking open way too loudly and your dad snapped his head towards the door. 

“You going somewhere?”

“No—yeah, I mean I wanted to get something from the store, real quick. I’m craving a snack.”

You put on your best innocent smile, ensuring your face is sweet and forgiving despite the fact you’re leaving to go get fucked by your boyfriend (?). 

“Oh!” Your mother chirps from the kitchen, “can you buy some more strawberries for me? I need some for my lunch tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” You slam the door shut before they even got to say goodbye, hands shaking on the knob of your door as you take a deep breath and make your way over to the end of the street.

He’s distracted on his phone when you sneak up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Hi.”

He can feel you shaking when he slides his hands down your arm, tugging you to sit in front of him on his bike. “Hey, you cold? You’re shaking like a lot.”

“No, I’m just…nervous.” You admit sheepishly, unable to look him in the face. He lifts your face up with a finger on your chin, pressing a reassuring kiss to your nose that has you smiling up at him.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“It hurts though…”

He leans forward, turning off his motorcycle engine and lights, now leaving the street in total darkness aside from the streetlamps. “We can take it slow, if you want.”

“No, not that. I wanna do it today, that’s why I sent you the…yeah.”

He shifts your body closer and you part your legs on either side of the bike for stability, hand gripping onto his shirt for better balance. “That photo was fuckin’ sexy.” You stiffen, blood turning cold as his hands wander along your spine, holding you close to him as his lips mark up the exposed skin of your collarbone. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, you have no clue what you do t’me.” He sucks down, humming lowly when your fingers loop around his chain and tug ever so gently to grab his attention.

“What do I do to you?”

It’s a genuine question, though you have a brief idea, you want to know if you affect him the same way he affects you; how his shirt rides up when he stretches, teasing you with just an inch of his faint v-line or hearing his voice in the mornings when you call him is enough to leave a wet stain in your panties.

His hands slither down your spine and you chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment when you feel it. 

It being something hard inside his pants pressing against your upper thigh. “Oh.”

He doesn’t answer, too interested in grabbing onto your breast, groping it slightly and loses himself in the faint perfume scent lingering on the skin of your neck.

“Ran, not here.” You giggle when he kisses his way up to your ear, puffs of air from his nose tickling against your eardrum. “Not here, please.” It’s a miracle there’s no passerbys this late at night, just imagining the look on strangers faces as they watch Ran feel you up on his bike is enough to have you fidgeting from slight embarrassment; yet you shove down the idea of being caught fucking in public somewhere deep inside.

He smells so good, the scent amplifies ten-fold when you shift back on the bike, dipping your face in the crevice of his neck, nose touching the neckline of his crew-neck black t-shirt.

“You’re in a cuddly mood today,” He says amused, slightly nervous, slight shivers running down his body when he comprehends how close you are. He tilts his head to the side, brushing his cheek against the side of your head and golds you steady, fingers digging into your waist. “How long we got?”

“Hm,” your lips vibrate against his neck as you hum slowly, head deep in calculations, “not that long if I’m being honest, but I can risk sacrificing an hour or two.”

“Yeah? What about the strawberries for your ma’?” 

His eyes squeeze shut when you attach your lips to his neck, slowly grinding your hips down against his lap, the slow roll gives your clit the friction it craves.

“She can live without them,” you whisper, hushed in spite of yourself as he lifts you off his bike easily and you maneovuer yourself to sit behind him, locking your arms around his midriff, digging your face into the back of his neck. 

The ride back to his house doesn’t take long and he doesn’t even bother locking his bike , preferring to lace his fingers between yours gently before he’s leading you inside.

The sounds of battle music blasts from the living room and a quick peek confirms that his brother is playing Street Fighter 2 with another guy that you haven’t met before. 

Ran places his hand around your waist, snatching your attention away from his brother and back to him. “Everything okay?” You nod up at him, fixing him with your best fake smile but he sees through it easily. “Nah, you’re not.”

You sigh, hating how perceptive he can be at times. “I thought we’d be alone…”

“We are, they’re deaf as hell, they won’t be able to hear anything.” When you don’t look convinced enough, he calls out his brother's name loudly, but he’s either ignoring him, or he can’t hear him as he talks to Kakucho, nudging him whenever he moves his character the wrong way. “See, trust me.” He squeezes your hand twice, reassuring you and you nod your head and let him lead you upstairs.

You take a seat on his bed when the reality of the situation hits you. 

You’re really about to lose your virginity.

The bed dips when he moves to sit next to you and your hands twitch nervously on your lap, biting the softness of your cheek to calm you down when he places his hand on your thigh.

“You’re shaking again.”

“I—” You bite your tongue, and swallow thickly, hoping your nervousness goes down with it. “I know I’m ready, I just…I’m just scared.”

You watch the slow rise of his brows. “I’ll go extra slow, just for you, ‘kay?” He tips forward to kiss you again, proving his previous sentence with his extra slow movements. Your shaky hand falls to the side of his face, holding him close to you as he shifts you to lay on his pillow, hovering over you.

He breaks the kiss, bending down to peck at your ear. Your giggle is almost music to his ears and your legs kick around as you mutter “It’s ticklish.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” He sucks on your lobe harder, one hand moving downwards to wrap your legs around his waist to stop you from kicking him.

“I don’t like my ears.” You tell him, gently trying to push him away, pawing at his chest, laughing when his breath tickles your eardrum once more, “Ran!”

“You’re so beautiful though,” he pulls away, forehead to yours as he looks down at you, “best looking ears I’ve ever seen.”

“You clearly haven’t seen much ears then.” He deadpans at you and you roll your eyes, retracting your statement, “‘kay, I’m sorry.” You close your eyes when he bends down to kiss your nose, cheek, covering your face with kisses as he mumbles how perfect you are after each kiss. 

Your hands cup his face, thumbs stroking at his cheekbones as you hold his face up, enticing him into a trance with your kisses, back arching off the bed involuntarily with each groan that spills from his mouth.

“I’m gonna undress you now, alright?” He says between kisses and you suck in a harsh breath through clenched teeth before nodding, too nervous to provide a verbal response. 

He sits back on his knees and gently tug on your shirt, lifting your arms up to slide the shirt over your head and onto the edge of his bed. You sit up slightly, unfastening the straps on your bra and letting it fall, watching how his eyes stay glued to your chest as if he’s never seen a pair of breasts before. 

“...Ran, you’re staring.” You say, pointing out the obvious, thinking he would look away by now but you have to grip onto his face, and force his gaze up, “My eyes are up here.”

“I know where they are.” 

If he could kiss every part of your body he would. He looks down at you underneath him, eyes glistening with want and habitually, you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, hands rising to wrap around his neck, craving his lips once more.

With confidence, Ran’s tongue slips into your mouth, slidinig passionately along your own. It’s almost embarrassing how pliant he makes you, how you're lifting your back from the bed slightly to press your chest against his own.

He grins at the soft moans you let out with each kiss, drinking up each mewl that leaves you when your hands wander downwards, slipping under his shirt, dipping your fingers along the crevices of his abs. 

“Take—” You take breaks between kisses to tug hopelessly at his shirt, “I want this off.”

“Someone’s bossy today.” You watch up in reverence as his shirt lifts off his body, tongue poking out to lick your bottom lip. It’s probably swollen by now, how hard you’ve been biting it but you don’t care, not when he hovers above you with his bare arms beside your head.

Your mouth is dry when he leans down to kiss you again, but keeps it short this time, breaking the kiss before you could even melt into the pleasure. 

His fingers dance their way along your thighs, making their way to the zipper of your jeans. His head drops down to look before it’s being lifted by your hands holding his face, “Don’t look…”

“I’m gonna see it regardless, y’know that right?”

Yeah, you know that; but you still feel embarrassed being fully naked and vulnerable in front of someone else for the first time. “I know…”

His fingers test the waters once more, fingernail scraping against the zipper until your legs are complying, spreading ever so slightly, just enough for him to wrap them around his waist as he unzips your jeans, hooking a finger onto your panties to tug them all off at once.

Cold air hits your bare cunt and you almost shiver when he bends down to your stomach, kissing on your skin around your bellybutton, slowly making his way down to your pelvis.

It feels extra sensitive there, butterflies frollocking around your stomach as he practically makes out with your skin. It’s wet when his tongue slides out, licking a stripe from your pelvis to your thighs, squishing them with his fingers as he marks you. He wasn’t lying when he said he would take it slow—now you’re actually regretting his slow pace, wanting to be touched down there.

“Ran—” Your voice trails off into a gasp when he bites down on your thigh, hard enough to probably leave teeth marks. “C’mon…please.” You whisper, covering your eyes with your hands, too flustered to look at him between your legs.

You can’t help but squeal when his nose brushes your clit ever so gently, his wet tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking lightly.

“Oh—oh my god—” He smiles between your legs, eyes closing when he hears your moan, your legs enclosing around his head as you slap a hand over your mouth, biting at your palm when he flicks your clit with his tongue swiftly, physically unable to control your squirming.. “Ran, mm, oh fuck, fuck, yes!” 

“Yeah?” He dives back in, drowning in your slick as his fingers tickle your entrance, “Gonna put my fingers in now, ‘kay?” He takes your soft ‘mmhm, mhm’ as a sign to continue. He pushes in slowly, fighting back your body’s reaction as  he inches his finger in deeper. You almost kick him in the back when you feel it, slow, lazy yet calculated strokes with his index finger.

The pleasure is almost too much, biting your lip, throwing your head back to sink into the softness of his pillows. Your pussy clamps desperately around his long, slender finger. Ran groans, detaching his mouth from your slit, “Fuck, why are you so hot? It’s—” He twists his finger inside you, stretching your soft walls out and gives your clit another suck, “It’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Your body feels like jelly from just a single finger, the continuous strokes of his tongue against your clit have stars forming behind the abyss in your mind, eyes squeezed shut as you feel another finger at your entrance. “Don’t stop—fuck—please, don’t st— mm—” 

You’re babbling incoherent sentences, limbs practically numb as you try to squirm away from the overstimulation, insides feeling like they’re being electrecuted. “Wait, I—I think I’m—” 

You’ve never came before so the feeling was unusual to you. The warmth pooling around some unknown area in your stomach had you practically suffocating the man beneath your legs as he loudly licks up at the slick from your cunt as he finger fucks you into heaven.

“Clenching around me so tight, you’re close, aren’t you?”

“I think—” You swallow hard, cursing under your breath when he presses against that spot. He knows he’s hit it because the blood flow from his finger temporarily disconnets with how tight your walls clamp around it, moaning louder than he’s ever heard you before and your hand flys to the headboard to stabalise yourself as you come undone on his hands. You felt liquids squirt from your body, breaking out of the spell he put you under the moment you felt it—scared that you might’ve…

“A squirter, huh?” He says from between your legs, goosebumps forming on your forearms when he drags his tongue over your cunt one last time as a way of cleaning you up. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s not normal? Oh god…” You hide your face in your hands as he laughs, moving to sit on his knees and pulls you closer by your ankles, trying to remove your hands from your face but they’re practically glued on.

“Stop hiding from me, it was hot.”

“I thought I…” You lower your voice, too embarrassed to even finish the sentence, “I thought I peed.” He snorts and you hit him across the chest, “It’s not funny!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute.”

Your cheeks heat up when he kisses you again. The taste of the kiss was slightly bitter and you instantly knew that was because of you. 

“You ready?” His voice is breathless as he parts away from your lips, wiping his lower face and mouth with his arm.

“Yeah.” 

He reaches forward, fluffing the pillows to get you as comfy as can be and you smile up at him, watching hypnotised as he tugs his pants down. You now understand his infatuation with your breasts because you’re lost in the sight of his cock, watching witth a dry mouth as his cock bobs free from its restraints.

There’s something white leaking from the tip that you’re sure is cum and you bite your lip when you see him squeezing tight at the base of his cock, dragging a lazy hand up to the top, groaning as he positions himself between your legs.

You blindly reach out of it, almost knocking the wind out from his lungs when you grab it, smaller fingers failing to wrap around his own. “Hey, what are you—” His words get lost when you bend down and ready to stick your tongue out before he stops you, “What are you doing?”

“I wanna taste it.” You say it like it's obvious, darting your eyes down to the leaking precum seeping out from the tip bit by bit, but he stops you, lifting you from your bent position with a single hand on your bicep. 

It’s weirdly attractive how he can just lift you with no effort, manhandle you to the way he wants and before you know it you’re back on the bed, head resting on his floofed up pillows and he’s hovering over you.

He reaches inside his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and rolls it onto his cock as he says “As much as I’d love to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, babe, it’s not abouot me tonight.” His eyes trail down your body, nudging his cock against your cunt, the tip brushing agaisnt your clit in slow circles and you close your eyes to steady yourself.

Once ready, you nod at him and he bites his lip, eyes never leaving your body as he slowly presses into you. Your hands fly up to his arms, digging your nails into his skin and try your hardest to stifle your moan. 

There’s a stinging pressure the second his cockhead enters, your body fighting to accept him in and you start to panic. “Wait—” you tap at his arm rapidly, “I don’t think it’s gonna fit—I—”

“Shhh,” he bends down to kiss you, sucking on your bottom lip to comfort you, “listen to me.” You force your eyes open to look into his own honest ones, “You’re so tense, it’s gonna hurt but it’ll be quicker if you relax, ‘kay?”

“Okay…” You eyes flutter shut when you feel him press inside again, the head of his cock is fully engulfed and you feel the burn between your thighs as your walls stretch to accommodate his length, “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, it burns Ran—”

“I know, I know, almost there, promise.”

The rest of his cock slips inside almost easily and he lets out a gutted moan when he bottoms out, his hips pressing against yours and he has to physically stop himself from fucking you into the sheets, waiting for you to stop squirming underneath him. 

“Is it in?” You whisper and he lifts a hand up, thumb swiping at the tears forming under your eyeline.

“It’s in.” You exhale sharply, un-squeezing your hands from his arms to wrap around his neck. “Tell me when to move, I’ll move.” He says against your neck, pressing soft kisses to soothe you, biting down when you clench around him involuntariily.

It feels weird, like you’re being stuffed full—but you don’t see the pleasure in this yet; it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Maybe your body isn’t wired the same way other girls are because they make it out to be something amazing and have them screaming out in pleasure, but you just feel like screaming out in pain.

“Y-you can move, now.” You say after a moment, watching as his jaw clenches when he drags his cock out, leaving just the tip in before pushing back in gently. Ran makes sure to use as little force as possible, not wanting to overstim you so quickly. There’s warmth pooling in the depths of your stomach, the pain slowly turning into pleasure as he keeps up his slow pace, feeling lightheaded from how your pussy catches around his cock so tightly. 

He briefly thinks he should’ve prepped you more, scared that it was too painful for you. One look down proves his theory wrong and he almost cums right there and then, stilling his hips at the sight of you all spread out for him, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head as you bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the bubbling moans.

“Faster?” He pants out, hoping and praying that you say yes because he needs to feel you, all of you, wants to hear you scream out his name. 

“Yes, please.” Your voice is hushed and quiet, gradually getting louder when he pulls out once more but slams inside you, hard enough that you’re sliding up the bed, head almost hitting the headboard as he begins his relentless pace.

He can’t hold himself back anymore, fingers digging into his pillowcase as he slams inside you. Your hand flys to your mouth when you’re about to moan, remembering he has guests downstairs but his hands grip onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Let me hear you, fuck please—” He sounds breathless, using one hand to keep your wrists above your head, the other trailing downwards to your thighs, spreading your legs further so he could fit himself inside you better.

“Ran, ohmygod, yes, yes, don’t stop, fuck !” You attempt to scratch at his hands pinning you down, needing to grab onto something before you feel like you lose yourself completely. He presses down onto your stomach, switching his pace to a slower one and you almost scream—

“Shit,” he whispers, voice trailing into a moan when his hips jerk, shoving his cock impossibly deeper, “I can feel you cumming—fuck, you’re so—” The next thing you know, you’re being flipped ont the bed, soft mattress pressing against your stomach and ass being dragged up into the air. 

“Ran, please—” You feel so empty without him inside you, taking back everything you thought previously about sex not being enjoyable, wishing he could be inside you all the time to fill you with that warmth. 

He grips his cock, panting softly before lining his cock up at your entrance. “‘M gonna fuck you full of cum, I swear to—” His promise is cut off when he slips back inside, groaning and dragging your hips back to take his cock, mouth dropping open as your walls flutter around his cock, “Gonna fill you up—you want that, huh?”

“Mhm-mhm,” It’s hard to speak when your face is being shoved into the pillow, hands reaching behind you, desperate to touch him when he’s pinning them to your back with a firm hand. 

He ruts against you with a desperation that has you screaming your frustrations out into the pillow as you listen to his provocative dirty talk, ears full with the sounds of skin on skin slapping against each other. 

“Arch your back,” he commands, letting go of your pinned wrists to allow you freedom of movement, digging his fingers into your hips to physically stop himself from moving to give you the energy to bend forward, watching with sharp eyes as the line in the middle of your back dips, “Just like that, yeah.”

You wind your hands in the pillow, holding it like it's your lifeline as you feel him bend forward, grinding his cock with slow strokes. “Feel good, hm?”

“I—kiss me, please,” you manage to gasp out and he winds a hand in your hair, pulling you up with a firm grip to crash your lips together. It’s messy and desperate, ignoring your protesting neck and back just to lick into his mouth hopelessly.

He tugs your bottom lip with his teeth before shoving you back down onto the bed, resuming his quick, calculated thrusts. “Close?”

You nod, head heavy and snake a hand down your body to your clit, circling your fingers around it a little faster. “Uh-huh.”

“Shit, cum for me—wanna feel you, c’mon.” His hand comes down hard and heavy on your ass, and that was the driving point for you, a broken cry of his name into the pillow as your walls clamp to his cock. He groans, thrusting one, two, three more times before he groans, breathing heavily and you feel cock twitch twice before he fills the condom.

His cock is wedged deep inside you as he stills his hips, riding out his orgasm. There’s a wet noise when he slips out and your body falls limp onto the bed, every single muscle inside your body aches and you feel so sore. 

You shut your eyes closed for a moment when you hear some movement around the room, some shuffling before your cold body is being engulfed by his warm embrace as he climbs back into the bed with you. 

“You okay?” He asks, head dipped in the crevice of your neck, pressing soft kisses against the skin and you nod your head, hands coming up to hold his arm, cherishing his warmth.

“I’m good.” Looking over the curve of your shoulder, you make eye contact with him and smile, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my first time. I really enjoyed it.” 

There’s a look you can’t read on his face but his eyes soften more a moment before he’s moving on top of you. Your body surges up to kiss you, sloppy and happy as his laughter ghosts across your mouth. “You’re so soft.”

“No you are! I saw your eyes soften. I’m not blind.”

“That’s cause—” He looks like he’s about to say something but then shakes his head, looking down.

“Cause what?” You move his head back up to your eyes,furrowing your brows as you wait for him to continue.

“I—I think I love you.”

You swallow, wrinkling your nose and blink up at him, those three words wiping all consciousness from your body. At your silence, he fidgets a little, swallowing constantly and swears he feels heat rushing to his palms.

“Nevermind, I—”

“No! No,no don’t take it back.” You panic, sitting up so quickly you knock your forehead against his. Falling back onto the bed with a groan, you rub at your forehead, wincing a little, “I’m such a mess, sorry—”

“No, it’s fine.” He laughs a little, rubbing his own forehead from the hit. 

“I…think I love you too. You just caught me off-guard and I panicked, I’m sorry.” You grab at his hands, bringing them up to your lips and peck the skin there softly watching as he looks at you, wide-eyed. “No, I don’t think; I know I do. I love you, Ran.”

He doesn’t say anything, looking down at the bed for a moment before chuckling, hand coming up to your cheek to caress it lightly, “Like I said before, you’re so soft.”

“Says you!” You want to hit him again but he’s tugging you down onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around and you smile, snuggling up to his chest. 

“You’re staying the night, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I can walk home anyway, my legs are fucked.”

“Good.” 

[blood-teeth]

05.19.23

howdy everyone! it's been a long time since i've done one of these. also this is going to be a long post, so if you're like "i'm not reading allthat but stay safe tho" im sorry in advance.

i was going to wait until the two year anniversary of TMITAWH to post this, but i've been getting more and more asks about the status of this game, why it's on lockdown, when it's coming back, etc. largely, i've been dodging these questions or answering them with a vague "oh, i'm working on it!" which is very much the truth. just, not the entirety of it.

the truth is this: the story is done.

the real truth is this:

actually, before i get into that, i wanted to mention something else. i know i've waxed poetry over and over again and maybe it's getting annoying to hear it - so i'm very sorry - but it really is important to me to mention this because it's the motivation and the life-force behind everything that i do on this blog. i wanted to say thank you. i remember typing up the intro post to TMITAWH after getting the second COVID shot, delirious, but bolstered by a fever that had rendered me brave. i've been writing this story since 2019, i had the vision, the characters, the aesthetics and the understanding and i wanted to desperately to share. i never expected the level of support and love from so many of you. i've never had people genuinely vested in my worlds or characters. i remember getting the first comment about the prologue and slamming my computer shut and freaking out. i cried when i got my first ask telling me how much they'd love it, despite the small amount of content. the fever may have given me the courage to post it, but y'all gave me the courage to continue. and that means more to me than anything means to me in this world. for two whole years!! you've dealt with my wildly out of pocket thoughts, long absences, and have continued to show your willingness to continue the exercise in patience. i dont have people in real life that would do that for me. so thank you, thank you for being here, thank you for caring, thank you for the sweet comments. i wasn't lying when i said that i keep most asks unanswered because i go back and read them, hold the words close to my chest, and convince myself that i can do what i want to do when it comes to storytelling. thank you. forever and always. i know this feels maybe so much like im baring my soul, but i think it's important. TMITAWH saved my life. I mean that in every understanding, with the breadths and depths of my soul. I mean that with all the fibers and cells and atoms that make up me. This story saved my life. it's important to me that you know that in so many ways you all did, too.

so much of the reason i've been sitting on this is honestly mostly fear. it's choking me now as i write this. i'm scared of y'alls reaction, i'm scared of potentially disappointing anyone, and i'm scared of people just being overall pissed off. which i would get! this is not why the majority of you are following me. i'm asking for grace, for understanding, for mercy.

so, the real truth is this:

Tell Me If There's A Way Home is complete. there's a beginning, of sort, a middle, an end. but, it is not complete in the way you might expect an IF to be complete.

this is, simply, because Tell Me If There's A Way Home has been re-written and re-formatted into a novel.

over this past year, i was struggling with the story. things had along the way stopped making sense. this WAS the story i wanted to tell, i knew what had to happen in order to get the whole point of it across. is it better to get back what you've lost, what does it look like when you do get it back? but there was something that wasn't working. i could force the scenes, have The Traveler spend time with Cain in his little house talking about his past, or provide the option to explore the peaks of a mountain looking for a legend of old. i could do all this. but it was all wrong. the story had become corrupted along the way and the vision of it that i held onto so desperately was fading into obscurity.

so i opened a new word document and just wrote. i wrote for a whole year, and the story unveiled itself to be in the way i believe it was always supposed to. i understand so much more of this story than i did two years ago. sitting at 90k words, book 1 is officially done. it's essentially the same story you all had read, but different somehow. more than it ever could have been in an IF format. there are the characters you love. there's cain. there's silas. alice of course. there's the traveler as *her* own character. and there's the reverie. but the reverie is no longer Ezio/Elena. it's just elena now. its beautiful, gorgeous elena with her quick smile and hemlock eyes and her memories.

what happens now?

i'll be spending the next few months making the book as perfect as i can make it. i've been working through the rough draft - or alpha draft- and then i will ask some people to see if they want to read draft 2, draft 3 , draft 4. however many drafts it takes until i feel as though i can do no more. after this, i'll query agents and pray to god that in the hellscape publishing is in right now that im offered representation. after this, i'll pray to god that an editor likes the book enough to want to work with me on it. after this, i'll pray to god that a publishing house likes the book enough to buy it, put in on shelves. there's going to be a lot of praying to god. a lot of luck. so i think it'll be a while before anybody gets to hold the book in their hands, but god i hope y'all get to. i really hope you get to. more than that. i hope you want to.

after all of this, i'll be working on book 2. i already have the title. i already have the first chapter. i know exactly what happens and how.

i know there's maybe some confusion, so please feel free to send me asks about it. i will happily and gladly answer what i can and discuss it.

i'm so so sorry for the long post. this all felt important to mention and it felt important to be transparent with y'all. this was becoming a secret too hard to keep and i'm glad that i dont have to anymore. i hope you're not mad, disappointed, etc. that would really suck ass. i hope you're excited, maybe. i hope you're curious.

anyway. thank you for getting this far, if you did. thank you. i love you. i'll talk to you soon <3

[themoodyestj]

Ah, one last thing (and sorry, last ask was very long! Will leave you alone after this): even just from having friends that like Supernatural, I am aware there are very clear shipping conspiracists in this fandom and that includes people who are sending you rude messages (your responses to which were most of the posts of yours I saw!) I am not saying that you are necessarily a conspiracy theorist or that you would be the only one engaging in this behavior, and I think respect should be used across the board (especially because it's just fandom! How you treat real other people who you actually speak to matters a lot more than fictional characters or celebrities!) This isn't an accusation of unique behavior where you're the only one or the people sending you nasty things are excused from it. If I had seen the same posts but from the opposite end, with people who are super into Misha saying similar things about the other actors or their partners, I would have said something there too.

I just don't run across a lot of these blogs from either side, because I'm really not active in the fandom, though I have friends that are. And I don't think that celebrities should be inherently excused when they behave badly, and you aren't obligated to love any of them or praise them. My ask was solely about the potential blurring of lines with what fandom can know versus assume, and the caution of using language that's rooted in bigotry or cruelty when trying to make legitimate criticisms. It's broadly applicable and I'm not singling you out as if you're the only person -- your posts just happened to be the ones I came across, and I was just scrolling past for most of them and wasn't going to say anything, but the one about her (the redhead is Danneel? I think? Going to be honest until I saw that post I did not know Jared's wife's name and when I saw the photos at first I wasn't sure which one you were insulting until I read more.) dress and the Borat swimsuit and comparing the wives etc just felt like there was a lot of really blatant sexism that does pull from your actual points, whatever they may be, and that I assume wasn't intentional.

It's an easy trap to fall into because there's casual bigotry all over the world, but I still care about being aware of it -- even with people I hate, there's better things to bring up. I'm generally wary of calling people ugly when there's much worse things they're doing, even when it's just some white dude, just because looks aren't the issue there and all it does is accidentally insult people who may be similar. Anyway, I'm done, I know this was long-winded and probably won't matter to you, and I do hope you have a good week or whatever. I just felt bad not clarifying that, like, I'm aware (from my admittedly brief scroll lmao, I'm sorry, this is a wild thing to send you from seeing maybe 6 posts) you get rude asks from people engaging in similar or worse behavior, and that behavior isn't fine from them. But I think we can all do better than that? Okay bye!

Well, your ask came a few minutes too late.

You have to understand that most what i do here is actually humour based. And opinion based. If you read my recent posts, youd see Im mostly an anti-bullies. And i do rile them up. I cant, for the life of me, understand why someone would feel entitled to go to another inbox and ask them to kill themselves. So i bite back. I leave very few anon asks unanswered, because I want to show the world their behaviour. How fanaticism works. How it changes people. I dont expect you to understand the purpose of my blog. Neither do I need you too. But yes, it would be best if you read all before taking conclusions.

And yes, write all, because i can only answer what i see at the time.

[i-luv-carl-grimes]

𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰

S1 Ep5

Stars

Warning: abuse, language and lots of valance as well as gore if you are younger then 14 please don't read

************************************************

Even though everyone was trying to hide themselves from the rain I still sat in the same place having the summer rain come down drenching me that peace didnt last long though, just a few minutes. "Alright Rayne go change your clothes your all wet and covered in dirt," Lori said and I nodded

She lead me into hers and Carl's tent then handed me my other outfit (purple shirt one) and I quickly changed not letting my gun leave my sight, I walked out and Lori took my clothes. "I'll put them with Carl's laundry," she said and I nodded.  "Here kid," Daryl said and threw a gun holster at me, it was brown and a bit scuffed I nodded and put it around my waist, it was lose and hung off my hip but whatever, I put my gun in the holster when Carl walked over to me,  "mom never lets me touch a knife let alone a gun, you still haven't told me how old you are" he said and once again for the 15 millionth time handed me that stupid note pad.  'It's not important, you're not gonna know me for long' I handed it to him and his smile faded.  "More talk about leaving, you have a good chance here and you're just a kid there's no way you could live on your own!" he said each word that came out made me cringe.  'watch me' he let out, and annoyed sigh. "please? just for a little while" he said, 'your people dont need another mouth to feed,'. "what if your family comes back?" he said and his words ran through my head. "Carl I think that's enough give her some space," Lori said but Carl didn't listen. "you know, I still think my dads out there" he started but I sat up and stomped away.

if I stay quiet it'll go away.

Carl's pov:

did I say something wrong? "Carl hair cut get over here!" my mom yelled and I groaned I hated getting my hair cut, it was so annoying, but mom never let me grow it out, unfair right? "you know if you didn't move so much this would be easier," my mom said as she harshly moved my head back in place. "you know what really sucks? when you start shaving then you be wishin' for one of you mamas hair cuts," Shane said. "ill believe it when I see it," I said and he let out an airy laugh. "I'll tell you what, you get through this with some manly dignity, and tomorrow I will teach you somethin' special, I'll teach you to catch frogs, and trust me that is not something to be takin' lightly I'm willin' to share my secrets its a one time offer," he said. "why do we need frog?" I asked. "ever eat a frog leg?" he asked. "eww!" I replied. "he's right ew," mom said. "we get down on the last of that girls supplies you'll be lovin' those frog legs, lady, dont listen to her man, me and you we'll be heroes man feeding all these folks you and me Shane an-" "can Rayne come too?" I asked cutting him off but my question was left unanswered as the sound of an alarm went off in the distance.

Rayne's pov:

I was walking back to camp when I heard an alarm go off, that walk turned into a run, I knew something bad was going to happen when I got back to camp I seen everyone hugging with people I had never seen before, I looked at Carl and saw that he was crying then, a middle-aged man with curly hair walked out. "dad!" Carl screamed and ran over to him Lori followed as they all sobbed in each other's arms. everyone watched with the people they loved, while I just stood there alone. I looked down trying to hide the tear that had fallen from my cheek, I'm still so weak

-

it was night and everyone was sitting around the campfire, except me, I didn't want them to see me as a part of there group, after all, I wasn't, sure it was cold but I can handle worse. Ed and Shane started arguing about shit I would care less about, one thing I did know was that I didn't like Ed, that look he had, it was the look that my father would give before hitting me, or even just beating me, the look of complete disregard of what you're doing. it was probably the same look I gave my sister...before it was over.

-

everyone was settling down for the night, except me I was still outside sitting on top of Dale's Rv looking at the stars when a heard a shuffle and someone climbing up the later I gripped my knife just to see 2 familiar baby blue eyes I sighed and turned back around he then sat down next to me. "mom said you should get some rest" he said then like ALWAYS handed me that stupid notepad. 'ok' I handed it back to him. "please?" he pushed. 'what do you want from me? can't you just leave me alone,' I watched the way his face dropped and for some odd reason it hurt I then took the notepad. 'i'm 9' i wrote answering his question from earlier, I saw his smile come back. "I'm 10," he said then got up and walked down the ladder and back to his tent.

soon after I got up and walked to their tent the only thought on my mind was. 'did I just trust that kid with my age...he's just gonna die, save yourself the trouble'

I walked in and Lori pointed to a spot next to a sleeping Carl.

I didn't sleep that well, every time I closed my eyes the image of my family appeared in my head, but hopefully tonight will be the night I don't wake up from

[inkedtae]

im OBSESSED with rotten angelcake. the story is amazing, though i do wish yn to be a little more assertive and just TALK to tae instead of getting distracted by literally how he breathes (can relate yn, i can Def relate), im loving the character development. tae is UGH i love him hes so so so charming but so so so annoying sometimes lmao maybe im trash at slowburns, like i know he has eaten her out and she has given him a handjob and she has riden his thigh and all But i just want them to KISS!!!!!! and yn wants too and tae wants too (i think . its been a while since ive seen a character so enigmatic like him, maybe you dont mean to but hes so cryptic it makes me wanna tear me hair out) but neither of them go for it and yn wonders why he hasn’t kissed her but she doesn’t ASK him. UGHAHWIDJDBK help im frustrated cus i read their only drabble and thought WOW THIS IS IT!!!! but then he kissed her other lips 😩 im a romantic . ANYWAYS this is getting too long and i hope you can see from my dumb and maybe annoying ass ESSAY here that im totally invested in this story and cannot wait to read more! pls forgive me if i overstepped w anything said here . it’s currently 3:20am and i’m trying not to freak out bc i finished this series and now i havE NOTHING

hiiiii!! this whole ask made me smile so much omg!! i feel so bad for all the unanswered questions but there are reasons so i guess there’s some comfort in that?? there is more to come though so i’m really glad that you liked it and so touched with how strongly you feel about the series!

by the way you did not overstep at all!! i really appreciate this and you ☺️💗 more to come soon…

[noeggets]

S2G anon here and YEAHH I AGREE WITH POINTS YOU MADE. Kaz is insufferable in the first few eps but i feel like JET were being too harsh on him (esp because i am a Kaz defender through and through + I hc him as autistic)

If it isnt too much trouble, what are your opinions on Shiro? In hindsight, i should've specified him in the previous ask but he will always be a JET member to me despite him not being from Earth 😭

YOU KNOW WHAT? IM SORRY FOR CALLING HIM DUMB HE ACTUALLY MIGHT BE AUTISTIC I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT

i wanted to talk about Shiro but i had just woke up and left him out he is part of team jet in my book too

SHIRO - how  Ryu Kaizel was manipulating him that was a whole criminal act in it's self i don't think Shiro is easily manipulated but i think it's very easy to mess with his mental frame and i can almost call what Ryu did to him gaslighting? (is that the right word?) it's been a long time since i've watched the show but i feel like the trauma he got from Ryu is something i wanna see him over come cause he was literally afraid of that man if i remember correctly

im not trying to poop on Ryu's character but he was a whole wild thing and always did unexpected things for strange reasons

that scene where he was inside Shiro's mind and when he woke up and he was right there UBFHBWHU get that man out i wanted to throw down lol but anyway i love Shiro's time with team jet because it let him be a little happier

in the ep where it was about them and they went to go train with that guy i forgot his name on the moutain and it didnt show us him relaxing with Kaz cause the ep was about Fiona and the rest of team i wanted to see them i would watch a whole ep about them relaxing cause it's what he deserves

my only problem with Shiro is that he was so upset that they wouldn't wanna be his friend if they knew he was like a wolf changer? a furry or whatever it was called but they had like half the cast were aliens so it didn't bother anybody so that plot point was irrelevant to me and could have been handled better (Noeggets its a little kid's show I KNOW BUT THERE WAS SO MANY HOLES AND QUESTIONS UNANSWERED)

OH ALSO the ep where they went to that festival planet and he was playing games and the people hated him or whatever i dont remember but it was funny love Shiro he's like the 3rd fav

i like Antares and Hebina those are my favorite characters love their sibling dynamic

[ozdwibe]

july heat got me writing may to august

the longest poem i write could be anything

my rawest give, spontaneous overflow not enslaved

crude chaos left to VICE, origin plus progress

heard some oldy say, drunk verses his had no faults found

my drunk intents the same, my heart broken by hers, my heart broken by me, the songs that helped,

aesthetic.

my kadhal i kept locked in,

girl superficial chances with me, my brag real in potential

my kinetics my tech to fuck find out, find fuck out

my slow, result of my want to relevance

my strength eliot, his complex length

shoutout to ignorance, i know nothing nor do you

questions unanswered my might, words omitted mystery

halkat jawani my affiliation with the unknown

so intoxication i own,

unacceptability be purpose less rebellion

i take a moment savouring

my moment passing

my verse not intuit my verse modified

me pure, my sensitivity not, it all numb i harbour

less generalization for sake reputation

have tossed my cig, seen cig to corruption,

mistook sapien girl as my sapio muse

nakama captain beside me,

his wish broke i, for i his better

my ego i integrate, my lust too

my coherence for the elite

cant enough about me,

this write i continue till my high lows,

till no twice think about farts

creative juices uncurbed da

side chicks mine upkeep hope i grant second chances

i dont, so i haven't

ego holds notion of higher consciousness

limitations realities yet experienced

for this one too, dont end soon

y'all learn soon, autocorrect is autowrong

my mind goes hehehehe, mango ente ooril manga

this absurdity my legacy my drunkardness my time

my music my empowerment my moment for the life i love

google helps me, consequently i help it back

my courage boosted by the man made, the gods interfered

imma call her

give dopamine to myself

my young blood to impress her

her my imagination

all amagalamation,

gonna think of her

of alcohol

of being higher

of intergrating mistakes, of accepting the correct

of looking fine

quest freedom, evermore more

might decide for myself

like i said, i won't stop till the high, low matter nay

its not that deep, she knows, detached pisces

i know she likes me too, more when her blood gravitates

mahn these water signs, thier confusion with ease

bring simplicity, fire asks courage

what do i ask, only presence yours

lets stop compensate with imagination

teamwork, make manifestation work please

manz tryst with autopilot

alliteration, mistakes my strength

my inspo for more, this would take me to all the ones i image, my slow token to understand the why of slowers, my aim to make feel slow, my aim taken over my aime with the e, i lose track, im timebomb/ reminded of hope... i need to write more,,,,, my conversation, coherence soon

my argument with myself turns hope into answers

few personal space time cuts later, i sync with current sync

not living from one obsession to another

not about not doing, but about doing different

im going to let touch my heart, ill let hold it

i choose not to stand in way

this not bravado, this necessary

so long, having let not feel

pray consequences of own

this time embody wild, not talk

my immediate sucess is here

my success postponed

from all the plays delays

no touch to taste

this dirty song, that i judge

betray song!

my dirt song from all stories

the seen, the mislead

the trust of few, misused misflourished

my beat is all i know

my beat is all i can

you never know

i know

i can

no i no

beat is no know

no know

no can

i no u no

we both no no

what you get

you never know

what you can

feel outbeing

solace outbeing

ourbeing.

[mc-tummy-blur]

@ruestew here’s part two of the ask! Again I’ll try to be as concise with my reasoning as possible.

*Honestly I feel like I didn’t do enough justice in explaining how I feel about The Narrator. I probably need to dedicate a week of my time to create like, and essay about him because I feel like I got a lot more to say about him

My thoughts expanded under “read more”

“They are soooooo cool looking sounding”— Yeah he’s a disembodied voice and doesn't actually have a physical form, but Kevan does fantastic job in his voice work. He sells it so well in his deliveries, you can just feel when he’s having a good time, or when he’s distraught or scared, or furious at the situation. There’s so much range in his voice performance, and it does make The Narrator seem…real. And that alone, makes him cool looking sounding to me.

“They are deeper than they seem”— The game clearly shows us that The Narrator is extremely complex, both in the OG and UD (though it’s WAY more expanded upon in Ultra Deluxe). In the OG, he desperately wants the player to play the story in the way that HE wanted you to play it (Freedom Ending). But, he makes other options that lead to a variety of endings, yet still hopes that you choose “correctly”. Probably in order to give the illusion to the player that “Yes, your choices do matter and you do have free will.” (Which, while is probably not a new hot take, it is completely ironic to think about. As TSP literally consists of you trying to free yourself from The Narrators preferred path, but he wont allow it, even though his correct ending he made is about us trying to make our own choices for once and free ourselves from the machine). In the UD, he’s stuck in the past, thinking that his work IS perfect and loved by everybody (which to be fair, TSP pretty much is). But when he learns that there are people who don’t like it, it takes him on a downward spiral mentally, and arguably creatively. He thinks he has to cave into trying to create work for and audience that love the OG, and for an audience that wanted things such as gags or ways that make them feel comfortable about the games meta narrative. The result is that he made something that, in actuality, didn’t need to be made. But he felt like he needed too, in order to show others (and himself) that his work hasn’t dropped in quality and is on par, if not even better than the first. That his story means something and that by just adding the stuff that he thinks he needs to add, will make more people see what the meaning is.

“Wow! They are a horrible person”/“They’ve never done anything wrong in their life <33”/“Wow… They are literally me!— He is literally fine with killing off Stanley/The Player at any given point (and even mock them as they die). He will belittle Stanley/The Player when they don’t follow the story or break the game in some way. Yet also wants to try to make Stanley/The Player/Fans happy. He wants to give them some sort of control over the game. Specifically, in UD, even though he encountered a few negative feedbacks, he instantly wants to give those fans what they want. Also, him struggling with trying to make something perfect in his eyes while also trying to please the masses in some way, and him having the intense fear of being alone and that he needs his work to be heard is justtt,,,, man. It’s something that makes me feel bad, and it some areas, I do relate to it a whole lot (at least with wanting to be heard in some way).

“They work better as part of a dynamic”— Do I even need to explain why he should NOT be separated from Stanley/The Player at any point though seeing how he reacts to being alone definitely is an eye opener to his character that was only barely touched on in the OG, with that ending where you see Stanley not moving (dunno the ending name to that).

“They’re like a blorbo to me”/I’m mentally ill about them”— See points above

[atsumiye]

it’s been 3 weeks since you ran into suna on the train. and as much as you hate to admit it, its consumed your thoughts. the way his hair grew a bit longer, the way he got just a bit taller, the way he gained more muscle. and even with all the changes you saw, he still reminds you of the old suna. the one you fell in love with.

so when atsumu spoke to you a week later asking why suna was suddenly begging for your number again, you told him it was okay to give out your new number. it was quiet for a while, so you wondered if atsumu even listened to you, until a few days ago.

and its been just 3 days since he sent a series of texts, all of which have gone unanswered.

suna: hey this is suna. thanks for letting me text you.

suna: i was hoping maybe we could talk?

suna: y/n, i really miss you. and i’m so sorry for how things ended.

suna: please just talk to me.

suna: i love you.

suna: sorry.

suna: just please. let me talk to you once okay?

you stare at your screen, unsure of how to go about things. the breakup was bad. but the aftermath of getting your heart torn to pieces, was even worse. because the only thing you think of when you stare at those messages is the all the situations that had lead to the end of what was a treasured relationship. how he let someone tear you two apart.

but your unresolved feelings and unanswered questions make it difficult to click the block button again, and pretend it never happened. pretend like you never ran into him that day. pretend like he isn't the first thing you think of when you when wake up and the last thing on your mind before you go to bed.

but you can’t, because anytime he comes to mind you still feel your face heat up. and whenever atsumu would slip up and accidentally say his name, you would become more interested in what he had to say. and anytime you looked at the only jacket of his that you still had, you could still feel the ghost of his fingers placing it softly on your shoulders.

you know you'll need to answer soon, because he seems to be getting more persistent to just have a chance to speak with you. the random messages every few hours from atsumu that dont really sound like him, asking if you were okay, if you ate dinner, if you slept well last night. because it was something suna used to do.

and that shows he still cares right? he regrets how he ended things? because none of this would have happened had he just listened to how you felt, instead of brushing it off and saying how he only loved you. you want closure. you want to know why things happened the way they did. you want to know why he didn't even fight for you stay. even if knowing those answers will hurt you more.

so no matter how you think of it, there's only one answer you want to give him.

y/n: okay, i'll talk to you.

1 year and 5 months ago

its been five hours. you can't believe that you convinced yourself to stay even 5 minutes past the first hour he was late, but yet again it seems as if you are the only one holding on to what remains of this relationship.

the popcorn has gone stale, as you've refused to touch it since he always complains about you eating it before the movie even starts. the ice cold drinks he loves have melted, the water rings around the cup an indicator of just how long its been. the poor teenagers manning the counter watching you shift which hand you lean your head on.

and you'd be worried had it been the first time suna had left you like this on a date that he planned. but this is probably the 17th? 18th time? and you realize you've truly lost count of how often this occurs. and that angers you because you shouldn't even have to count how many times your boyfriend stands you up on dates.

you hear the doors to the theater slam open and the sound of someone running. out of breath, he runs up to the table youre sat at. he grabs your hand and squeezes, "y/n, im so sorry. what should we-"

"the movie ended 3 hours ago. why did you even come here." you stand up from the table, removing your hand from his grip and tossing the full popcorn and drinks into the trash.

he reaches for your wrist, trying to pull you back towards him, only to have you yank it out of his hold, "babe, i really didn't mean to."

you sigh, "i just want to go home."

he nods, holding the door open for you then shoving his hands into his jean pockets as you walk home in silence. suna decides to be the first to break the tension by sliding his jacket over your shoulders, "you look cold."

you hum. you want to tell him that you hadn't planned on being out this late as the temperature dropped but you hold it in and continue walking, your eyes glued to the street ahead of you.

"where were you this time, rin?"

he pauses and that gives you the answer you were hoping you wouldn't receive. he was with her.

"she wasn't feeling well and her parents weren't home. i was only going to stay for a few minutes but she didn't have dinner and-"

you stop walking, turning to face him, "when do i get to be your first choice?" you pause, holding eye contact with him, "when do i get to be the one you think about? when are you going to realize how uncomfortable she makes me?" you sigh, turning back around to keep walking towards your apartment, "i've told you so many times that you keep letting her come in the way of our relationship. not once have i told you to stop being friends with her, despite her being your ex. and for what is probably the 18th time, you've left me alone on a date. one that you planned to make up for the one you missed last week. and the week before that. and also the week before that."

snapping your head back you look at him again, "which you missed because of her. again."

you pull your keys out of your bag and unlock your front door, "i can't keep doing this anymore."

you walk into your apartment, standing at the entrance you whisper out, "goodnight suna."

and you close your front door.

part of the series; look at me

[gojology]

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

     You’re beginning to hate Satoru.        Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it.       People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders.       You don’t particularly hate him for this, though.       It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone.      It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back.      Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it.     So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month.    “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room.     Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones.     Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?”      “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.”     Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?”     Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-”     “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work?  Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is.     He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?”     He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-”     Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.”     Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?”     It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults.       “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?”       He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him.       “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.”       Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place.      “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket.      “Looks just like you.” he says.      You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching-      “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you.        “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?”        You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it..       “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh.       “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low.      “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.”      “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you?      “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.”       His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness?      “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.”      “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?”      Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.”     “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?”     Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself?    “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?”     “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped.     By none other than his lips.      They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this.      You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything.    ‧₊˚✩彡.       “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door.        Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse.        “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes.        “What the fuck.” 

[iwaasfairy]

Start a Patreon and write for the people who are still interacting with you or just stop writing for some time it's not healthy to keep pushing and feeling drained anyways or just start everything anew

i mean you also have to see this from our pov, you've said so yourself that you have a bunch of unanswered asks (and i mean non-request asks), if you dont answer us how are we not supposed to feel discouraged or lose interest? you really seem to only favor particular anons and your mutuals

i understand that you have a large following and might be getting many asks and that it can feel overwhelming but i guess thats the downside of having a large following

I absolutely love your content and wouldnt want you to feel pressured into writing something because you have a responsibility towards us i want you to write because you want to but interaction-wise i have completely stopped, jst disheartened

warning: long response lmao buckle in,,, i had to sit with this ask for a little bit because i really dont know how to,, feel about it

first of, an obvious big thank you to the compliments you did put in between the criticism here, im very happy to hear that you enjoy my writing and that you don't want me to be pressured. that's very sweet. and while i have considered making a patreon, i dont find it fair on people who would pledge to not have a guarantee that they'd have however set amount of content a month.

at this point, i can't guarantee that. i go through ups and downs writing, i have bursts of inspiration sometimes and sometimes i just dont. that's just the nature of being a content creator. and as i don't get payed for this as of current, that's okay.

i had already taken a hiatus before and returned to post 6 more fics in 4 months when i did, because i returned with renewed energy. i returned to writing here because i wanted to. i understand that you are saying it out of a want to help and give advice, but it's quite hurtful an answer to someone who refused to leave even though all her close friends apart from a tiny fraction left, and someone who's been trying to keep a little bit of the spirit in it for new fans. because there's nothing more sad to me than seeing a fandom i love die before my eyes.

now is not the time for a break for me. i don't need a break, what i need is the tiniest bit of effort from all the people who consume content without giving back. i have already made a new blog before too,, and people didn't care to follow me over, so there's no use. i've been building this blog for the last 3 years, and there's no point in throwing away my hard work for something that might not ever get to the level it was at anyway.

but this ask is also overshadowed a little by the sheer negativity being tossed at me, even if it wasn't your intent, or even if you said it politely. it's quite a strange and harsh thing to say to someone who's expressing a grievance,,, don't you think? i have seen it from your pov, many many times. i have not said a thing about it for months, again, because i don't want to hurt people's feelings. i might have said that i have a bunch of unanswered asks before yes, because that's true, but as i also said in that same breath, most of them are requests. even if they don't straight out say "please write -" they can still be requests.

i also think you've already sent me a similar message a few months back when i was expressing frustration, which,,, kind of proves that i don't ignore anyone, and i haven't ignored your asks. i don't pick favorites, i don't only answer certain anons for the fun of it. and i don't know if you have tried to scroll my blog in the last few months, but any time i am able, all i'm doing is answering asks. all of which go ignored.

i have hundreds of answered asks that get no, or maybe one-three notes. i think it's only reasonable then that i started to assume that the majority of people didn't really care about my answers, and that maybe yes i did subconciously get more cautious which asks i answer immediately get upon getting them, because i didn't want to flood people's dashes and annoy them with my answers. i answer the asks first that are short and easy to answer, or that make me laugh or are trying to make me happy.

i answer an enormous amount of asks in between fics. so i'm sorry to say, but i genuinely don't think i've ignored many of your asks as you claim. you don't sign your asks so i wouldn't know if or when you revisited me if i tried,,, but just math wise it doesn't make sense. if you had sent me between 3-5 asks over these last few months, there's a 99% chance that i have at least answered one or two of them.

and if you've sent maybe one, or two asks and i happen not to have answered them, i am sorry for that, truly, because i never mean to exclude anyone from a conversation. but like i said, the majority of people don't care about my responses, and i don't want to dry my blog out more by burying my writing under such a heap of asks that people don't even bother to read anymore. i really don't know what you expect me to do.

people dont read my posts (any post except a full fic), or if they do, even leaving a like is too much to ask. i feel like im talking to a void with 99% of this blog. and though people do read my fics, it is such a rare thing to get a reblog, a nice comment, or an ask going into my fics. talking about a thing they liked, or simply saying they enjoyed the fic. you seem to equate me asking for interaction with 'sending asks', but that's not the case.

anything is interaction. showing you're interested. showing you're here, you're listening. showing you read something. this isn't ao3, i have no way of knowing how many people are actually here. so when writers ask for interaction, they aren't asking you for a book report (though i can guarantee that if you care about a fic and you put i that kind of effort that'll make you so so loved by that writer, and maybe you'll even become friends lmao,, that's how me and rhi, clover, angel, mous, violet, bee... became acquainted after all)

they are just asking for any sign that their hard work is not just,, there. it'd be nice to show you care. even if writers might not respond to you right away, or even at all

[the-lonelybarricade]

Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!

I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:

Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)

🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that

Thank youuu

Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!

I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)

Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests

Word count: 4,446

The Ouroboros.

It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.

Ending and beginning.

From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.

She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.

The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.

She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.

She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.

It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.

Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.

Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—

Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.

Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.

The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.

Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.

With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.

“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.

Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.

Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.

Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.

“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”

Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.

Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.

“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.

Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?

“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”

“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.

There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.

Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”

“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”

“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”

“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”

Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”

Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.

“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”

“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”

“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.

Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”

She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.

Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.

“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”

Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.

“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.

Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.

“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”

“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.

The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”

“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.

“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”

The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.

“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”

“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.

They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.

A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”

It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”

Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?

“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.

Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”

“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”

With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”

⟡⟡⟡

Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.

That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.

Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.

Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.

But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.

With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.

To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.

After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”

“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.

“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”

“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.

Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”

“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.

Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”

Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.

It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.

I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.

And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?

That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.

Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.

Where did you get that?

It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.

She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”

Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.

It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.

She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.

So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.

He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.

Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.

Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.

Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.

Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.

He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.

The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.

The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.

Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.

Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.

Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.

Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.

Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.

I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.

Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.

Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.

Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.

Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.

“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.

Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.

As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”

Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”

“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.

“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”

Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.

“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”

He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.

This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.

She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.

His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.

“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”

“And do you?”

Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”

Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”

Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”

[stormblessed95]

Unpopular opinion I guess but I don’t see how that anon asking about Jikook and kids is homophobic. Gay and lesbian couples can’t naturally have kids, it’s a fact, no judgement here, we just can’t. And right now in most countries around the globe - even the most liberal ones - it is still extremely complicated for us to have kids, no matter how - adoption, ART, surrogate motherhood, you name it. Judging by how far South Korea is when it comes to LGBT rights, I doubt it’s an easy thing to have a kid when you’re in a same-sex relationship over there. Not completely impossible for sure, but surely very, very, very complicated. So if Jikook want to have kids in the future, it’s pretty logical that some people are wondering what about them then? I don’t want kids myself but I witnessed a gay couple around me having a crisis over this, it’s an extremely complicated issue that legitimately can create tension within the relationship - same for straight couples that can’t have kids actually. I don’t think that anon meant it in a "they can’t be gay if they want kids because gay can’t have kids" kind-of way. They can’t have them but they surely can want them but it’s not always possible to fulfill that wish unfortunately. I don’t want to be a party pooper but yes some couple may split because of this and it was not so uncommon for queer people not so long ago to "give up" on that part of themselves, to sacrifice themselves and engage in a straight relationship in order to be able to have kids. Still happens in some countries most probably. It’s a shame, it’s shocking, but it happens. Now it’s not really our business if Jikook do want to have kids or not, and it they do want kids it doesn’t mean they can’t be a couple, but I understand that it may rise some questions for some people. Even though they’re rich af, they’re still korean citizens, and I don’t see them willing to move outside of the korean borders so yes it could be a huge issue for them.

Sometimes I see Jikook blogs quick to jump to conclusions and scream about homophobia when I just don’t see it. Most Armys are quite young and from conservative countries, it’s only normal that they’re ignorant about LGBT issues. I see a lot of them willing to learn, being supportive (maybe I’m too optimistic). We all have stereotypes about this and that, it doesn’t necessarily means we’re -phobic. Heck I’m from a liberal western country, lesbian myself and I’ve said some pretty dumb things as well regarding wlw relationships. I don’t see homophobia in saying that gay people can’t have kids. I do see it when people say they shouldn’t have kids though, but it’s a different statement. It’s okay to ask questions, why always question people’s intentions? How do we expect people to learn if we relate everything regarding LGBT issues to homophobia? They’re going be afraid to ask if we keep acting this. - I’m obviously not talking about straight up crystal clear homophobic statements. Which I really don’t think anon’s question was.

Soooo I'm not sure how to totally answer this except to be totally honest with yall. Before you send an ask into a blogger about "why are you defensive?" Or "why do you all jump immediately into saying something is homophobic?" Please take a moment to really consider why that is. If you run a blog and have anon asks on, you probably already know. If you don't, let me tell you. Because there is a lot that never gets published.

For every ask yall see, there are 2 that you dont. I've answered like 800 asks at this point, so that is ALOT of asks gone unanswered that you never see. Sometimes they are innocent and just not something I feel like answering or are repeat questions or rants. Often times they are hateful. Sometimes that hate is directed at me, often it's at the members. Or it's at KMs bond. I cannot begin to tell yall the amount of asks I have gotten trying to invalidate the idea that Jimin and Jungkook could be gay, much less in a relationship with each other. Using all kinds of various reasons that simply are not reasons at all. Such as, for example, the kids thing. I have gotten asks from people saying Jimin is straight and he is going to be a wonderful dad, which would be impossible if he were gay with JK so he can't be. I've even gotten asks from Jikookers trying to disprove Taekook as a ship by saying that Tae cannot be gay because he has been very vocal about wanting kids and that would be impossible if he were gay and dating JK. Which is simply not true. I get these a couple times a month at a minimum. I get others about them being attracted to women, or pulling away from skinship, or spending time with xyz member, or looking at xyz girl group member on stage, etc etc etc. I basically delete this all the time right away because it's simply not worth it because those people don't actually care and I don't have the mental energy to sit and try and educate every anon who walks into my inbox. I have done it before and done it nicely and respectfully many times. It's exhausting. And it's constant as long as my anon asks are turned on. It's why I turn them off every now and then, to play catch up and give myself a break.

And when you are dealing with an influx of toxic anons that frankly are homophobic or just other shippers and being hateful.... can you understand how that might make you learn to be wary of all anons. It's not all anons, it's not even most anons, but there are quite a few that ruin it for everyone. So if you send in wn anon ask and it's super vague and feelings slightly leading, most of us who run these blogs and answer these questions will probably assume that you ARE trying to lead us to the answer that jikook is impossible or their is no chance that they are involved or that they are trying to invalidate them in some way. So when the ask in question was "Jimin wants kids, what about jikook?" It leaves me side eyeing the anon a little bit. The reason I answered that one at all instead of deleting it with all the rest is that it WAS vague, so I answered very generally, answering all the different ways I assumed the ask COULD be referring to. And because it does imply that if it was questioning their possible relationship, that the anon seemed to be trying to lead me to a conclusion that jikook would then be impossible, because of wanting kids. Which is very simply untrue. So unless you are clear with your ask, you run the risk of being misunderstood. And I will always err on the side of caution because of the amount of toxicity that sometimes gets into my ask box. And Im sure that is what is going on with other bloggers too. So again, I ask that please, before you assume that we all just don't care or are too quick to judge, open a KM focused blog and allow anons in for a month. Sift through all the drama and try to understand what we all are working with.

So while I don't think you are necessarily wrong, I do think my opinion stands that if the idea of either of them wanting children or liking children or speaking very generally about bangtans future children makes the idea of them being gay and/or being together questionable, that does sit in the realm of homophobia. And assuming every anon has good intentions just isn't possible. If you want to send an ask or a message outside of anonymous mode, it does make it easier to trust your intentions behind the ask because you are assigning your name/handle to it. And while there is nothing wrong with keeping things anonymous, I keep them on for a reason, you just have to accept that unless your intentions are very clear and easy to read (this has nothing to do with what language you speak btw, please don't worry about that), most bloggers will probably be a little wary of you. And with the kids one in question, I was nice, I kept things generalized and answered the question in ways that would have had nothing to do with questioning the validity of their possible relationship as well as the ones where the intention would have been to do that.

Hope that all makes sense and helps you, anon, and everyone else who sees this understand why sometimes JKK blogs are quick to get defensive or to not just implicitly trust in everyone's good intentions. Please remember that we who do these blogs are human too, and answer these asks in our spare time. Hope everyone has a lovely day 💜

[killerskillercaptain]

Forget Me Not - part I

this work is based on this request

pairing : levi ackerman x reader

wc 1,8 k +

themes : reincarnation au, canonverse to modern au, Levi and Reader both reincarnate in modern au, Levi remembers his past life, reader does not.

warnings : lots of angst, death of reader, cursing.

You dragged your blades along the flesh of another titan's neck, tearing through it just enough to kill the giant. You watched the titan fall and crash while you landed on the ground using your ODM gear.

"Shit !" you muttered a bit panicked

Those were your last usable blades, all of the others already broke and the remaining ones were too damaged, weathered by the long and repetitive moves.

You looked around you, there were so many soldiers dead, their bodies lying flat on the ground, but you couldn't spot a single blade fit for use near any of the corpses, all of their swords had either been snapped in half, crushed or are still planted on the giant bodies trying to eat you alive.

Never had a battle been so demanding and tiresome, you don't recall seing a mission this gruesome, and you were a vet ! If there was a hell on earth, this would be it. Even the weather wasn't in your favor; it was raining blood, the air was filled with a repugnant smell that you soldiers were all too familiar with, the smell of titans body fluids and body parts rotting not far away from you. All of this was bearable you thought, grown accustomed to, what was never tolerable was the cries of your comrades getting eaten alive. The sound of their bodies crushed or getting bitten sounded new each time. It was strange, there was all this killing going on, all these horrible deaths happening right now, the rain and the muffled sounds of bones being crushed at the palms of faith, and some last words you could barely comprehend, but strangely enough, time seemed to stop for you, everything around you began to become distant and you could feel what resembled a calmness inside the turmoil inside of you. What was this odd feeling you thought, looking down at your hands, you observed the spoilt blades of your two swords, your hands weren't shaking anymore, and you found yourself in a bizarre state of apathy.

Did you accept your nearing death ? Were you going to stop fighting and let today be your last ? What could you do ? There were still more titans than soldiers, you were on your knees, incapable of making them move, even if there was a blade you could use on a body somewhere, you wouldn't be able to reach it without getting in the visual field of a titan, it would be like rushing to your death. You were stuck, your years of experience had taught you to assess quickly and effectively situations, and you knew you couldn't kill or save now, you could only run for your life, an option you couldn't bring yourself to do, maybe someone will come, someone with reinforcement and equipment.

You couldn't desert a battlefield. Looking up at the sky, you closed your eyes, cancealing the horrors of your surroundings, you prayed for one person to show up, only one person could make a way out of this hopeless situation.

Eyes still closed, you thought about Levi Ackerman, you wondered where he could be right now, you thought about the way he methodically does his job, nice and clean, no one being able to match his skills, you thought about how much he hated casualties and pointless deaths. As foolish and frivolous it was, you thought about his jet black hair and the way it would fall on his face while he escapes from a titan's grip, how his jaw clenches when he's faced with a particularly bothersome specimen, you weren't aware you picked up on those things until now, not to forget how his body spins, like a dancer in a deadly ballet. You also thought about how he always kept an eye on you every time you were together on a field, his eyes always trying to locate you somehow, you caught him so many times throwing worried glances at you, especially in dangerous situations, more than any other of his comrades. Did it mean anything ? You never thought about it that way, come to think of it, you never knew what Levi Ackerman thought of you, were you just a another comrade to him or someone more important ? Those questions were going to stay unanswered. All those times you caught him eyeing you, overprotecting you, asking you if you ate, slept, rested at the most random of occasions.

And him ? Did he know what you thought of him ?

You felt the ground tremble underneath you all of a sudden, you looked beside you and you saw a giant human-like feet, its nails extremely dirty, a long and deep cut carving an opening at its ankle, leaving the insides completely visible. When did you get accustomed to such disgusting sights ? The titan bent over, watching your form, you were looking up at him now.

He has a friendly face you thought.

You pictured Levi in your head, for maybe what you thought was your last moment. He hated futile losses.

"Don't you dare die on me" he always said.

An ear piercing sound blew out of nowhere and a black signal tore the sky apart. You saw a small figure jump from tree to tree using an ODM gear, you didn't recognize who it was until the silhouette landed next to you, only inches away. Blood and rain on his face, Levi pulled you up by your underarm.

"GET UP ! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING ?

"I don't- i don't know what had gotten into me Levi"

"I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT MOVE IT"

He let go of your arm and grabbed you by the collar of your cape and forced you to stand on your now shaky legs.

"I'm out of gas Levi"

"What ?"

If you've never seen Levi panic, you did now. His eyes darted around frenetically, from the titans to the dead bodies then back to you again. He was grabbing you by the arm again, you could feel his long fingers digging into your forearm, he was tense and panicking. Panicking because both of you didn't have horses, but mostly because he had only one gas bottle left.

Levi looked down, trying to asses the situation and come with a plan for both of you to shun the titans and get out safely while having just enough gas for one person. Feeling a hot puff on the top of your heads you both looked up just in time to see two big eyes and a large mouth ready to chop both of your heads off, Levi shot his grapple hooks and pulled you by the waist with him, you escaped this one, but he couldn't guarantee the others, this situation couldn't go one he thought. You landed far enough to be out of reach from the titan who just attacked you, but you could already spot two blonde abnormals noticing you and coming for you. Levi quickly grabbed his gas container and detached it from his gear.

"Here ! Take it ! This should be enough for you to escape far from titan territory !" Levi shouted under the heavy cascade of rain.

"What ? No !"

"Don't be fucking stupid ! Take it ! I can manage to escape without it somehow ! Forget about completing the mission ! We retreat NOW !"

You reached for the container and placed it on your own gear before standing up. One of the abnormal had come so close now you could see the veins on his ridiculously large stomach. Levi grabbed your arm one last time "I'm going to shot my hooks at the nearest tree, i'm gonna distract this one so you can escape ! You take the opposite direction"

You nodded while the ground shook harder now that the titan was in front of you, his gigantic form casting its shadow over you. You actioned your hand grips, your hooks flew right into a tree in the opposite direction of where Levi went, you prepared yourself to use the gas to speed up.

Levi thinking the titan would naturally follow him instead, landed on a giant oak before turning around. His face darkened as soon as his eyes landed on you. You were struggling to get past the titan who was still chasing you and ignoring Levi, how come you weren't moving fast, the amount of gas should have been enough.

Levi's felt his heart stop and sink down his stomach, he instinctively reached behind him and pulled up the container he still had.

It was full.

He had given you the wrong gas container.

He mixed them up and gave you the empty one.

That's why you were so slow, too slow.

Too late.

Looking up, afflicted, he launched forward screaming your name, but it was in vain and he knew it. He couldn't take his eyes off your small figure getting picked up by a giant human hand who didn't have the any struggle catching up with you.

You think you heard him scream

You think you heard him scream your name

You're not sure, but you think you heard him slash the titan's fingers and landing with you on the ground, the titan's blood pouring down on both of you, hot and sticking.

For a moment, you thought you were going to make it, but you got suddenly conscious of the grotesque laceration on your lower abdomen and knew that this was it. You weren't going to make it.

An indescribable pain, a man's cry of misery, and cold blood running through your veins, you watched your vision go black, and for a split of second, the feeling of falling down an immense pit was all you could think of, the voice of Levi's cries resonating against the walls of what you assumed was your consciousness.

"I'm sorry ! I'm so sorry !" "Forgive me !"

***

When you opened your eyes, the sunlight blasting through a nearby window blasted your vision, when your eyes adjusted to the lightening, you realized you were in a room painted with an immaculate white.

How did you get in this hospital room ?

Wait, how did you know this was a hospital room ?

Because it looks familiar

You tried to recall anything prior to this instant, but you couldn't. Your mind was blank, you grabbed your head with your two hands, how come your memory was so blank ?

Outside of the building, you could hear chanting ambulances and honking cars in the distance, making your head throb painfully. You looked at your right, a bed table was there, on top was a bottle of mineral water, your keys, and your purse with a stethoscope dangling from it. There was also flowers dipping in a small amount of water inside a glass.

Your purse ? Your keys ? You don't remember coming here by yourself ! You tried to get up and get out of bed but the thumping inside your head quickly urged you to lay back down rapidly. You closed your eyes to try and shut the pain but heard footsteps shuffling cautiously inside the room, eyes still closed you heard a familiar soft and young voice ask if you were awake.

[nahoyaglock]

WHEN I STOP BREATHING..

pairings! ushijima x reader

summary! sitting on the beach, so close to each other they can hear each other’s heartbeats. They both smile and they watch the world end right in front of them, reminiscing on all they’ve been through together. Why does the end of the world look so beautiful?

genre! angst

word count! didnt bother actually counting so ill estimate maybe 2000+

warnings! end of the world, death, murder mention, slight ooc ushijima idk its the end of the world so pff

a/n! uh idk i wanna hurt people, sorry if this is bad i havent written in a while :p i feel like the beginning was really good, the middle was ass and the end was okay but hoh im happy enough w this. I also cried writing this ngl lmaoo also did not fix any errors so my bad

You knew it was coming, you both did. New reports, articles, it was trending on all social media platforms. It was unavoidable, what could you do but waste away your last few days, watching old shows you watched as a kid, harsh knocks and cries from your doors from friends and family. You couldnt face them, you just wanted to drown out the thought of what was coming the next few hours of the day.

You had woken up and sluggishly dragged yourself from the comfort of your bed to your dirty kitchen, littered with dirty dishes and some uneaten food that youd try to make, but didn't have the stomach to eat. Your phone rang atleast every hour or two, many unanswered calls and long voicemails you couldnt bother to listen to.

There was a knock on your door, and you sighed, not wanting to bother with facing the person at the door. You turned on your heels, about to head to your room when you heard the voice call out to you.

"y/n."

Out of all the people why did it have to be him. You bit your lip and let out shaky breaths. You took another step, freezing at another set of knocks. The last persom you wanted to see was your boyfriend.

"y/n let me in or ill tear this door down." His voice was stern, laced with seriousness and slight concern. You wanted to open it, let him in and crumble into his arms, but it hurt so bad.

"Go away." You spoke, loud enough to be heard through the door, but not loud enough to be a yell.

"y/n."

You hesitantly walked to the door, unlocking the bottom lock, the top lock remaining unlocked, too bothersome for you to have delt with anyways. At the sound of the click of the locks he opened the door with quick motions, while also being careful not to knock you over.

At the sight of his big frame you felt like the world had just stabbed you through the chest 28 times. You backed up with quick steps are your boyfriend reached out to hug you, scared that his touch would break down your facade. You tripped over your own feet, landing hard on your butt.

"Ush.. Ushijima," you started, not knowing exactly what you were trying to say, "Please dont touch me."

His heart sank when he saw you, lifeless and so frail. He guessed you havent been getting much sleep- or maybe too much sleep, and not eating as he took a quick glance towards the food littered kitchen counter.

It wasnt any better for you, seeing your normally cold and calm boyfriend with a worried expression and eye bags that made it obvious he hasnt got much sleep either.

You pull yourself up, your eyes boring through your boyfriends abdomen as you bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, and to also keep yourself from falling apart. "What do you want?"

"y/n. Dont be cold to me." It wasnt a question, but it wasnt a demand. "Sorry," you mumbled, leaving you two in silence for a while.

"Ushi, you should go home," you said, feeling your heart race, every second you spent in his presence, under his gaze, killed you. "You should call Tendou or something."

"Toshi." He said, making your head shoot up, looking him in his eyes, seeing a tear roll down his cheek, his face remaining mostly emotionless, fear slightly present in his eyes. "Please keep calling me Toshi."

You felt a pang in your heart, suddenly the reality of things hitting you. You were the only one going through this, you knew this but never gave it more than a mere thought. He was scared, he didnt know what he was doing, he just knew to find comfort in you, like youve told him to for many years into your relationship.

"Toshi," you breathed, reaching up to wipe the tear from his cheek, "Toshi lets go somewhere."

You never felt the need to go outside, wanting to be isolated, but being here with your boyfriend, you felt like running away, wanting to escape from the dark pit of your home. "Lets go to the beach"

"y/n–"

"Lets go. Lets go, right.. right now Toshi," you felt as if though youve felt shoked by lightning, like you suddenly got hit with some sugar rush.

"We dont have time–"

"We do Toshi, we do, we do," you saw the corner of his lips raise up into a small smile. He hated seeing you like this but he was glad you were more alive than you were minutes before. You knew this, what he was thinking, and you knew his smile had so much sadness behind it, "we have time, lets go, lets go!"

You grabbed his hand and dragged him out of your apartment, not bothering to change from your days out clothing or close the door behind you. It wouldnt matter in another hour anyways.

The ride there was mostly silent, songs playing quietly on the radio. You watched as you passed through the town, the streets were slightly empty, stores looked run down, some stores even tore up and empty.

"Has it been like this since.. since the announcement?" You mumbled, earning a hum for Ushijima.

"Yeah, yeah it has." He knew that you didnt go out, and he was slightly grateful for it. The world went to shit after the announcement, many lootings, murders and other various crimes being commited.

"Im glad your safe Toshi," you spoke into your palm.

"Im glad your safe too."

The ride went on in silence until you got to the beach. You both climbed out of the car, the beautiful blue sea sparkling under the sunny sky. It was funny how such a depressing day could look so so beautiful.

"Hmm, this is the beach we went to with the team our senior year, remember?" He asked and turned to face you. The fear in his eyes was much more evident in the light, along with signs of personal neglict. He hasnt been taking good care of himself either.

You walk around the front of the car to grab his hand, your small hands tracing light circles on his rough palms before linking your hands together, giving him a comforting squeeze. "I remember."

He let out a shaky breath he didnt know he was holding in, and you two found a nice spot on the beach to sit and watch the sky. "Toshi, do you remember the time goshiki got gummy bears stuck in his nose?"

He looked at you, and his face softened, "yeah. Yeah i do." He let out a small chuckle at the thought of his old teammates. "Do you remember when Tendou took my water bottle and filled it with really sour lemonade?" He asked, you could hear his voice unravel into a more comfortable tone, instead of one holding in so much hurt and fear.

"Ha, i actually helped him with that you know?" You spoke up, a small grin on your lips as your boyfriend grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. "We'll its okay, because it was 2 years ago."

It had been 2 years. 2 years since you had become shiratorizawas manager, 2 years since you made the number 1 ace fall head over heels for you, 2 years since you had went on your first date with him.

"2 years, its been so long." You laid your head on Ushijimas arm, feeling tired. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss atop your head.

"Thats when we first started dating," you spoke, shoulders shaking with a small laugh, "i would've never imagined to have the nations number 1 ace fall so madly in love with me." You laughed and turned to your boyfriend to continue your teasing, but stopped when you saw him looking back at you.

He couldn't respond with anything more than a mere chuckle, tears now streaming down his cheeks. You bit your lip, scooting closer to him so you were in his lap, wrapping your arms around his large stature.

"Toshi, I love you." It was no more than a whisper and he placed a warm, loving kiss to your temple, rubbing your back softly as he let out a shaky laugh.

"y/n god, you make it so hard not to cry." He whispered in an unstable tone, resting his head atop yours. "I love you too."

This was how it was, clinging to the other and sharing old tales of your days spent with Ushijima and the boys, tales of times tendou had snuck out of the dorms and got caught by washijou, or when goshiki cut his bangs too short, or how Ushijima brought your parents a half eaten watermelon as a gift.

Those last moments spent with laughs and tears, kisses and hugs, warmth and comfort, those were your best memories. Despite the fate to cross you, Ushijima and everyone else in the world, you felt like you could smile for the first time.

You would smile alot, but it felt different this time. You convinced yourself that it was just because you had been withering away for the past days, but you knew it was because you felt free.

You had no worries in the moment with your lover, you didnt need to think about getting up for work the next day, or how you would afford next months rent. You felt like the largest weight had been lifted off of you, and you could really smile for the first time.

There was a slightly rumble if the ground that had made you and Ushijima go silent. You pulled away from your spot in the crook of his neck to look at him, fear still in his eyes.

"I dont wanna die," he chuckled out, "but im not sad." He drew small shapes into your hips with his thumbs, looking onto your laps instead of your face, and you just stared at him.

His usually stoic face was calmed, relaxed, his jaw unclenched and his eyes soft. You hadnt seen so many emotions from your boyfriend so much, it was almost scary. But he looked so gorgeous, he was your world.

"Wakatoshi Ushijima, you know," your placed your hands on both sides of his face, "it doesnt matter what happens to this world, because," you placed a passionate kiss to his lips, the tears finally falling from your eyes, "you, you're my world Toshi."

He let out a noise that was similar to a choke, tears rolling down the apple of his cheeks as he placed his forehead to yours, letting his shoulders shake with hard sobs. Loud crashes, screams and car alarms had let you know it was coming, the end of the world.

The last thing you saw was Ushijima, smiling snd crying, mouthing out one last 'I love you'.

Why does the end of the world look so beautiful?

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