#// this time it's from the sharpest lives

[lovemeonlytilthespring]

Someone please yell at me to get back that last little clip that I deleted from my twt like a dumbfuck. And then to edit the whole monologue together except for the Iconic Line.

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

🏷️ taglist

@myahfig4 @yoyo-yui @luna-v-roiya @animemanwhamangalover @hotvinimon @anpacax0 @fullwriterpoem @an-ever-angry-bi @tazuduck @alexatiu @washeduphasbeen @theiridescentdragon @aquamarine001 @saucypeanuttt @captainchrisstan @artist1936 @paprikaquinn @megumisthirdog @whatshernameis @moonjellyfishie @spn-obession @poopooindamouf @hhk-jyon @ittomain1 @kalulakunundrum @risuola @jossayuuu @wiccanindigo @alwaysfreakingout @a-trashbag @wannapizzamymindposts @roscpctals99 @chxrv @tnu-ree @sov-sin @estella-novella @homewhereitsat @manyno @coffeeluvr96 @taeminfaerie @inluvkai @mellowarcadefun @sxnkuna @nerdiellers @krokietino @tttttttf @dumb-hore @snore-3 @leopoldonfire @uziwork @hyori2 @gojoful @wr4inn @nnasv @oidloid @deeeeexx

[sylvieons]

three cheers for sweet revenge is one of the most albums of all time

[ajortga]

can you keep a secret?

pairing: wednesday addams x werewolf fem reader

summary: you miss your girlfriend who's recently transferred to nevermore academy. your persistent whining is able to transfer you to nevermore and cling onto her the whole time there.

word count: 5k+

based off request!

-

W and R are in a relationship, W transfers to Nevermore. W and R may not have anything in common, but they do on some things, like R being an outcast as well (a werewolf ), R insists their parents that they transfer to Nevermore too. After they successfully did, R immediately finds W, the outcast's curious to what'll happen to R (obvi doesn't know they knew each other).. Basically every student in Nevermore sees them together everyday. One, asks W who R is to W, she answers truthfully, "They're My Lover." everything and everyone just goes crazy

-

“Cara mia, we live next to each other,” Wednesday says softly, brushing your hair back as you braid her black silky hair.

You hum, a little sad, finishing to braid her two tiny braids that hung low to her chest.

“But I won’t see you in school, baby." A huff escapes your lips as your girlfriend sighs, giving up on trying to coax your madness.

“Or at all,” you add, “you’ll have a damn dorm with some girl that you’ve never seen before. It’s not fair.”

The raven-haired girl rolls her eyes, “I’ll cut off my heart with the sharpest knife I know if I ever started to love someone more than you,” Wednesday suggests, trying to make you feel better.

She cups your cheeks as you refuse to speak and rubs her thumb gently around the pink tint covering them. A way to always make you feel better. Yet she knows better because you certainly don’t look better.

“We’re both outcasts Weds. My stupid parents just won’t allow me to transfer because they think Nevermore is weird. Yet they went to school there. That's not fair."

“They’re just trying to protect you. I'd feel that way too for our daughter if Nevermore had hurt me. If someone ever hurt you, they’re death will be a long one. Sufferable and miserable. So bad that they’ll beg for forgiveness before they bleed out.”

Usually Wednesday would expect you to smile and giggle, but you’re not. Why does your girlfriend have to leave you?

“Can’t you stay?” You ask, voice tiny.

“As much as I sneak out, Mother has already informed everyone including your parents not to let me stay the night. They are used to my.. Tactics per say.”

Your sharp nails from your growth as a soon to be wolfed out werewolf emerges, clawing the wood you attached to your wall when this kind of stuff happens.

"I can sneak you in and I'll even build you a door in my closet," you suggest.

"No, Y/N."

"What if we install a life-like robot and I'll sneak out with you?"

"No."

You huff angrily, slashing the wood.

Wednesday firmly takes your hand, and your hand almost scratches her, yet it stops as you don’t want to hurt her, “Stop that.”

“No,” you state, tugging your hand away and sinking them into the wood, so hard that a big ass dent forms.

Your girlfriend sighs, rolling her eyes as she sweeps her bangs away from her eyes, “I don’t know what you want me to do bambina. Maybe I could.. Sneak you away from this horrid place. But at what cost? Nevermore seems strange. Not strange in a way I’d want to discover in mysteries though.”

She sees the way you sigh, disappointed. Upset.

“You’ll be there for a whole school year, it’s far.”

“I’ll bring my typewriter. Distance won’t change that, swear on my cemetery. I’ll write you letters at night, secretly take the principal's mailbox and send them to you. Or I’ll threaten Thing in my backpack and crawl till he can give it to you.” Wednesday isn’t kidding, her stare is cold, well usually it was cold, but not towards you. “He can suffer in thorns, I’ll stitch him up, just as long as.. You’ll write back?”

You nod, yet you don’t care about the letters, you care about her.

“You’ll send them?”

“Yes.”

“Every night?”

“Yes.”

“What if you begin to stop when you feel like it’s not working anymore?”

“I won’t Y/N.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

"No you don't, you don't know the future."

"But I do know that I won't stop sending my letters. I can feel it."

You stop scratching the wood and you bury yourself on Wednesday, breathing in her scent as you try to comfort yourself. Yet even when the lights are off, your heart is pounding, feeling alone.

-

A tear falls from your cheek as you watch Lurch stuff his trunk, Wednesday talking to her mother and father, while hesitantly hugging Pugsley. 

“You’ll have so much fun.” Morticia says, with a smile, kissing her cheek and staining it slightly with her black lipstick.

“Define fun as boring and a punishment, sure,” Wednesday stiffly responds, yet softens as she looks at you. She takes her mother’s hand off her shoulder and approaches you.

“If you cry, it'll be raining all day. And you don't want it to be all gloomy for you? I don't want my socks wet. A poem, along with two pages written in a small font. One to express my day, and one to express that stupid love so you can sleep peacefully at night with nightmares.” Wednesday says, stopping for a moment, “sweet nightmares,” she adds.

You nod, yet your tear stained cheeks aren’t really helping, she reaches up and wipes it off with her thumb. Then let you hug her, you immediately bury yourself into her and she sighs.

“I’ll be thinking of you, till every grain of sand can be counted.”

You watch her approach the car, then slip in. She has the window scroll down, and you look at her. As the car engine roars, you bite your lip. And slowly watch it wheel away. Slowly jogging till it’s out of sight.

-

It’s been two weeks. And sure enough, Wednesday has kept her promise. She’s sent you letters you’ve kept in your drawer, they’re never repetitive, but always show you love. You like it like that, knowing that it isn’t a chore for her to write letters for you. If anything, they’ve lengthened in size as she's sent more and more.

It makes you miss her a little more. You have to hug your life-sized stuffed animal at night that she sprayed her perfume on. She also left half a bottle on your counter, just in case it runs out. Though it takes longer to sleep, it makes you feel a little better knowing there was something that was like a piece of her beside you.

Thing has visited you, and you know that little guy has a huge memory. You lost the letter you were going to hand Thing, and though you were a little sad, he moved his fingers and you realized you could speak to him for hours and he would tell Wednesday every detail. She had even wrote to you,

~

I owe Thing a thank you, yet he can be provoking at times. He had communicated to me for an hour, thirty minutes, and thirty two seconds about your day. I always wonder what secrets lay in the Addams Family. Yet I’m not quite comprehending why Thing has a big memory space.

Nonetheless, I think about you everyday. My roommate, Enid, has been unpleasant with her interesting taste of fashion and colors. It’s distracting. In a negative way. You’re distracting in a way where I can’t take my eyes off your enticing figure Y/N. Weems had bothered me the whole day, smothered me with questions and made sure I was doing fine. No wonder why mother got along with her so much. Those two are like the same person just one with smothered ink. But, something that sparked my particular interest was that you can dorm with two other people. Thing had told me that there was an accident at your school. If you’d like, which I’d appreciate, could ask your mother about transferring, say it’s dangerous. You aren’t a late wolfer, but convince her possibly that Nevermore can increase your chances. Wish you were here, I hate Mr. Tuesday. That white bunny is always staring at me during my typing time. But I can tolerate him a bit more, knowing you gifted it to me. You love Mr. Tuesday, so I appreciate your gesture. It’s not often I get visions, but they’ve almost made me want to experience them more. I see you in them, baking. Writing to me. It makes me almost happy.

Enid keeps trying to get to know me, she’s a strange soul, but she’s a werewolf, like you. You two are nothing alike, yet I think you two would get along a bit too much. Except you don’t blast random glitter pop music during the night. During my WRITING TIME. Even thinking about it rots my brain. But I miss you cariño. Sleep tight, I’ve left at least 300 things to hide in your house and you’ll never expect where they are. But everyone is special, it’ll make you at least smile a little when I tell you each night. Today’s item is snuck inside your bed, I used Mother’s chainsaw to cut through the wood, it’s a tiny version of Mr. Tuesday. I asked Thing the other day to sneak it in that spot and he sanded the wood back in. It should be a sort of door. But I crocheted it during my free time, there are times where I can’t think during my writing time. That is an understatement, but I only think of you. But I’m hoping you can enjoy it for today.

Love you, sleep cozily,

Weds

-

You smile as you look under your bed, now noticing the small outline from Wednesday’s chainsaw and you open the little compartment to see another crocheted white bunny of Mr. Tuesday. You nuzzle it and place it on your desk. You love him. You even spent a few minutes grabbing white yarn and attaching it to your tote bag.

You think about what Wednesday said, someone had gotten hurt in your school from being stabbed by a senior that was drunk. Obviously he didn’t mean it. But you had seen how anxious your mom got when she found out the news.

It was 11:23PM, and your mom’s room light was illuminated from the hallway. You get out of bed, ruffle your hair, and approach her room. Your only thought is Wednesday.

-

Before you could even ask, you already noticed her holding a black card, the logo of Nevermore Academy apparent. It said in bolded letters, 1965 Jericho’s long lasting Nevermore Academy. One for outcasts.

“Mom?” You said, your voice slowly quiet, and she looked up at you, waving you over.

“Hi honey,” she replies, “I’ve been thinking about the accident at your school. And I know you don’t like that place that much. And as much as I feel like I should keep you there. Your safety is important to me.”

Your excitement grows, you want to have that wide smile off your face.

“So?...” You question, wondering if she was saying what you were thinking she meant.

“And you keep bringing Wednesday up. So me and Morticia talked, and I talked with your father. We’re going to send you to Nevermore, but only if you want to. As long as you write to us every end of the week and call us. We want our little wolf to meet ones like her. It’s not often you find ones like us here.”

You nod.

“Yes!”

You didn't even think it would be that easy.

-

As soon as you get the news you squeal and call Wednesday early in the morning. She responds almost quickly, her voice on the other line, “What brings you to call me this early Y/N?”

“I’m transferring to Nevermore!” You say, you were much more excited but your tired voice betrayed you.

There’s a pause, then a small, “What?”

“I’m coming!”

A laugh and you can almost feel your girlfriend smiling with a toothy grin with her ear pressed to the phone.

“I knew your parents would let you go somehow,” she says, voice more excited, yet anyone else would not notice but you.

You can hear some rustling, “I’m going to ask Weems if you can dorm with me. I can kick Enid out for all I care, yet she isn’t horrible. Just, I’d rather spend it with you if she doesn’t allow a three dorm. Maybe I shouldn’t bring up a three dorm at all.”

“Thing, go back home and ask Father if Lurch can drive Y/N to Nevermore. Actually, include that if he won’t ask, I’ll shave his head off. Also make sure that he sprays two times of her favorite perfume, have her favorite sour candy ready, her headphones, her books, and tell him to pack some melon milk for her too. And her cow stuffie. Make sure he’s playing the playlist she made that’s saved in the car.”

There is a pause, and she makes a small, ‘oh oh’

“Baby,” Wednesday doesn’t call you that much, but when she does you’re over the moon. It usually shows that she’s happy. Really happy, yet her voice is still soft and composed, “I installed a door behind your clothes in your closet, guess we’ll unwrap the 300 presents when we go home. But I got another Mr. Tuesday there, he has some sort of costume on.” 

She pauses, you hear a random girl jumping up and down in the background, squealing about something as your girlfriend groans and presses her ear back into her phone, sending Enid an annoyed glare, “Pack your stuff, I’ll be waiting. I might as well cut my ears off if Enid won’t stop blabbing her mouth off.” You can tell that Wednesday turns her head to face her new roommate, she says louder, since Enid couldn’t hear her talking to you, “Better yet, slice her mouth off.” Then Enid’s squeals die down.

You grin through the phone as you grab out another version of Mr. Tuesday with a mushroom hat, you hug him tight.

The doorbell rings and you hear your mom open it, putting Wednesday on speaker phone.

“I’m almost done packing.”

“Y/N, honey. Mrs. Addams requests to see you,” your mother’s voice echoes through the hallway and you glance at the door.

You don’t know how Wednesday can hear it but she does, “I’m taking into conclusion that she received my message. Oh yes, she replied with those stupid icons. Yet it is one of a thorny rose and a gravestone.”

“Coming!” You stuff your bags, “Be right back.”

-

You almost choke as Morticia brings you into her embrace, hugging her back with an easing gentleness.

“Hello little one,” her soft voice says, the one you find comfort in as much as you do Wednesday’s. She gently rubs your hair, “I informed Lurch for your arrival, he’s outside whenever you’ll be ready dear. I’m so glad you decided to willingly join Nevermore. It has been a place that holds many memories. It’s where I met Gomez and fell in love. Maybe Wednesday and you can find the secrets in it. Go on journeys with her. Dig some graves, set them on fire."

It weird you out, but you smile, nodding, “To spend it with Wednesday is all I need.”

“You’re a special soul, a pure heart I can handle. Now go,” she waves you away, “Don’t keep him waiting for long.”

You give her one last grin and look over your shoulder before turning the corner.

-

After hanging up on Wednesday when you finish packing all your bags, your mother and father hug you goodbye and give you your favorite cranberry juice. Sweet.

It’s cozy in the Addams car, comfortingly with no talk, just the music Wednesday requested (forced) Lurch to play that lingers in your playlist. You feel like a butler with all the requests Wednesday smothered him with.

An hour passes and you can see the way the clouds slightly come into view, then you see the environment change as a sign that reads, “Welcome to Jericho! A Town of History”

Then, you finally see the academy in view, and Lurch arrives right in front, before taking your bags and guiding you to Principal Weems.

“It is my honor to have you here at Nevermore. This school has history, and where you’ll certainly grow,” her smile is wide, a little too welcoming it gets a little scary.

You just give small mumbles and nods, “Well, Morticia called me this morning and I quickly looked through your demographics. It also isn’t a coincidence that you have straight A’s. A 4.3 GPA. Many extracurriculars, and of course, you’re a werewolf. I see.”

“It is no surprise also that you had gone to the same school as another student who just enrolled, Morticia’s daughter, Wednesday. She sure is.. Different. But nonetheless talented. She had asked me yesterday afternoon if it was possible to have a dorm of three, and I’m assuming that you have been planning to dorm with her for the rest of the semester?”

She reads your mind, you immediately nod your head up and down, “Yes.”

“Well, most of the 3 dorms have been occupied, but her and Enid seem to have a slow relationship. I’ll have her in my office today, but by the end of the night or tomorrow morning I’ll give you my answer.” Weems scribbles on a note, writes some address and a name, “You’ll be rooming with Yoko, sound okay?”

You nod.

“Alright, I’ll call Enid up, for your guide.”

“..Guide?”

She nods, “Of course, we have many classes you can do, and people you can meet. She knows this place well, and I know that she’ll open up your shell.”

-

As Wednesday watches Enid leave, a soft grin forms on her face as she unties Thing from the random crocheted pink jacket Enid made for him.

Her eyes scan Enid as the door closes, then she turns to him, “I’m expecting Y/N is here. I’ve crocheted a questionable amount of Mr. Tuesdays.” She informs, “I shouldn’t have admitted that,” Wednesday sighs, as she pulls out the drawer next to her to reveal at least 40 assorted sizes of the same bunny. There were some in outfits, wigs. Wednesday almost finds it as therapeutic as her writing time. She crochets them whenever Enid leaves their dorm.

Thing smacks his head, and the braided girl glares at him, “Don’t judge me, I can cut off your fingers any time,” she threatens, seeing the way Thing surrendered with two fingers up in the air.

Then he moves around his fingers and does random hand movements.

“You think I’d follow Enid and try to make conversation with Y/N so much that Enid will get suspicious? You’d really think I’d do that?” 

Thing agrees.

“Then, you know me too well, let’s go.”

-

“Enid, glad you’re- Wednesday? It seems like you’ve tagged along,” Weems adds as she almost seems surprised, looking at her. If anything, the look in her eye is cautious.

“Yes,” Wednesday responds, trying to avoid the way your eyes almost smile as you look at her, but if anyone else were to look at you, they wouldn’t notice. “I’ve decided to accompany Enid, this is much more exciting than some other events at Nevermore,” she adds again, not entirely rude.

You sit in the middle while Wednesday takes the only left seat available, scooches her chair closer. Her hand rubs over yours after meeting under the covers of Weem’s desk. She takes note of how a small smile creeps on your face when Weem talks because of that.

“This is actually so awesome,” the blonde cheers next to you, making you turn your head and turn it, confused.

“We’re both werewolves silly! We should dorm 3 together! Wait, are there even any 3 dorms left?” When the principal shakes her head no, Enid sighs, “Then Wednesday can pair with Yoko. Actually, she barely even talks to Yoko, let alone handle her better than she’ll be able to handle me.”

You blink, glance at Wednesday for a moment and she shakes her head frantically.

“What if I dorm with her?”

The question leaves everyone silent, well everyone is surprised but Wednesday.

“You’d want to room with Wednesday while Enid rooms with Yoko?”

There's a lingering silence as you look around, “Why not? I'd like to get to know her better,” you lie. The most you want to do is get to talk to your girlfriend again.

"Oh. You don't want to, you know, get to know Wednesday before actually having to dorm with her?"

"Nope."

"Well, then that’s settled for your dorm. I’ll have to file Enid for a dorm change. But I’d like to ask if that is okay for both Wednesday and Enid.”

“Yes,” your girlfriend immediately responds, then coughs a little to cover up her excitement that’s masked behind her calm demeanor. “I can take a break from someone that is the complete opposite of me.

“I’d be happy to dorm with Yoko, at least I can have my music playing at night and my glitter-”

“My ears are bleeding Enid, don’t mention that word you just said.”

“Glitter?” Enid questions.

“No.”

You giggle from your girlfriend’s demeanor, squeezing her hand under the desk.

-

“This is Ophiela Hall! You don’t need to find your people here, you can make plenty of friends in other groups, but you have a group of werewolves! And what makes it even better is that we haven’t wolfed out!” Enid jumps up and down and you watch her legs bounce up and down, up and down. She’s like a whole party.

People give you two small looks, both you and Wednesday can tell they’re almost surprised she tagged along with someone whos new. It makes you smile a little.

Your girlfriend notices them whispering about you. Not anything bad, you seem like the sweetest person out of them all, but they’re whispering about the two of you. Even Bianca gives you a cautious look, but you’re too distracted to know what their saying as Enid keeps talking to you and dragging you along. Wednesday follows like a puppy.

“Enid, hey.” A boy speaks up, and you turn around at the new voice, he’s wearing blue and a beanie. The same tie everyone is wearing.

“Oh hi Ajax, this is Y/N. She’s new and I’m showing her around.”

A glare is thrown at Ajax as your girlfriend exhales. You give a small wave, “Hi.”

“You a werewolf too?”

You nod, seeing the way his hat kind of turns sideways, poking some peeking out snakes back into it. That’s scary.

The bell rings and you look around, confused, Enid grabs the paper you stuck in your bag.

“Oh, hey! Your next class is with Wednesday and I, it’s just plant anatomy with Thornhill. Come on.”

-

Somehow Wednesday gets Xaiver to move away from her, so now you’re sitting next to her.

“What the hell is this class?”

“Thornhill just talks about plants. The only entertaining aspect of this is that I like seeing Bianca fail to beat me. Though that goes in almost everything.”

The auburn hair girl turns around, with a wide smile and fairly big glasses for the size of her head.

“It’s a pleasure to have a new student, I’m glad to have you in our third period class Y/N.”

You embarrassingly smile, everyone looking at you, some with smiles and some with just small glances. 

“Could you give us the formula on how to turn this plant into a…” Thornhill goes on and you look at the plant, it seems it’s a Ghost Orchid.

You answer almost immediately, and Wednesday nudges you with her foot to almost say a ‘yay.’

Bianca stares at you as Thronhill clasps her hands together, “Exactly, you know your plants well. I’m sure you’ll excel here. Today we’ll have a change of assignments. It’ll be a challenge for duos against other duos and whoever answers first, and correctly for that fact, will earn a point till all the questions run out. Sound easy enough? Alright, let me get my cards ready.”

A knowing smirk grows in between you two, “We’ll win in no time,” Wednesday states, you look at the duos. It’s you and her, Enid and Yoko, Bianca and Divina, and other people you have no clue about, including Xaiver.

The game starts and before Thornhill can even get to the end of the question, you and Wednesday slap the bell, giving out the answer.

“Quick hands,” Xavier mumbles.

“That’s correct! Great job girls.”

The game goes on, and you’re tied with Bianca’s team. The silence can be cut with a knife as the two duos anticipately wait for the question. As Thornhill begins to read out the question, it takes you two a while to know the answer. Bianca and Divina seem stuck.

It’s several moments before the learning in your past catches up to you, slamming the bell and saying out the answer.

“Correct once again! You two win, great job! You can grab a succulent or stick to two pieces of candy that’s probably expired at the end of class.”

You and Wednesday high-five and to say the least, everyone is surprised because the braided-hair girl never let’s anyone touch her.

-

Weeks have past, and you’ve never been happier. Giving ideas for Wednesday’s stories that even she never thought about, helping her crochet more Mr. Tuesdays, so much that she had thing steal a laundry basket from Weem’s office, and even braid her hair and put black ribbons. She’s grateful to have you at Nevermore, her stories have been expanding because of you.

Your always stuck to her side, fencing playfully with her, even willing to go out in the woods with her. But she hasn’t went out since your arrival, knowing that you wouldn’t want to leave her side, and she certainly doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Even you and her worked together designing a matching cat on your black and white pajamas.

It’s fun when you two get to talk about life when you two are in your dorms, even better when you two are on the balcony and watching the stars. Wednesday plays the cello while you sing. She loves that she has someone that she puts her closed-off personality aside for.

“I love it, you look so pretty with bows baby,” you say, tying the ribbon.

“You look pretty with bows or without cara mia.” 

“Shut ‘p,” you say, smacking her arm lightly as she wraps her arms around you and rubs your hair.

It’s not long till Weems announce that it’s time for lunch.

Wednesday gets up, signalling you to come with her, but when you don’t, she comes back to sit next to you.

“I’m just looking for my necklace, you can go ahead, it won’t take long, promise.”

She sighs, and nods for a moment, then points at Thing, “Help her.”

Thing waves his hands as she blows a soft air kiss and closes the door.

-

It’s sprinkling a little bit when Wednesday is outside.

“How does Wednesday act so non-hazardous with Y/N? It’s honestly impressive.”

“That’s not impressive, how the hell does she not smack her or give her glares? Do you not see the way her eyes actually look normal when she looks at her? Not even normal, they’re gentle! Plus she was the first to go run and get a bandaid when Y/N accidentally got a paper cut.”

It’s like they summoned the girl, who’s holding a plate of her lunch.

Enid smiles and Wednesday sits down, looking at everyone.

“Are you seriously speaking about me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We want to know why the hell you are actually sweet with Y/N.”

“You could’ve used any word besides sweet.”

“Baby-like?”

“Even worse.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Bianca adds, somehow now being in this conversation, “You killed the biggest spider that was crawling to her, for her.”

“She doesn’t like spiders. Who wouldn’t use not being afraid of spiders to protect someone who is?”

Bianca blinks, then wrinkles her nose, “If it was me you’d certainly let it bite me.”

“Well that’s different.”

Everyone at the table groans, “Exactly!”

“What did I tell you?”

“The only person you’d not let it bite is Y/N, we just want to know why.”

“I’m protecting her because she’s my girlfriend.”

Everyone turns their head to her, “What?”

Enid slams her fists to the table, “I fucking knew it. I knew it! Ajax, you owe me five dollars. I CALLED IT.”

“The Wednesday Addams actually has a girlfriend?”

“Why didn’t we catch on?”

“They’re kinda cute together- don’t even speak or she’ll actually cut your head off if you say cute.”

Everyone is arguing with each other, going crazy. But by the time they cool down and look at where Wednesday was sitting, her seat is empty.

Then everyone looks around and sees her draping her black jacket over your tiny figure, she pulls you closer to her chest as you hold onto her. (Let’s say she’s atleast 4 inches taller than 5’1 in this.) You tug her big jacket over your shoulders as you hug her. She holds onto you and guides you to the table, kissing your forehead and brushing your damp hair.

Even when she comes back, she bends down and takes the butterfly that’s resting on your hair and places it on your hand. “I heard somewhere that if a butterfly lands on you, it means that they see you as a beautiful flower.” 

“I never heard that before.”

“I know, I made that up.”

Everyone starts screaming again, making your girlfriend and your heads snap at them.

“Look at them!”

“Aw! So cute!”

“I want to say this is disgusting but they’ll be my roman empire soon enough.”

You turn back to her, seeing her eyes soften, almost happily, "You told them?”

“I didn��t know why they didn’t conclude to that in the beginning.”

Bianca groans, rolling her eyes as everyone is screaming, then Xavier chimes in. "Back to that spider scenario. I definitely think Wednesday would kill it for me."

You glare at him, clinging onto your girlfriend a little more like a koala. She rubs your back as you tighten your arms around her.

"Your sense of self-love is filled with stupidity. I'd kill the spiders that are harmless to you and leave the ones that are most venomous and ugly looking for people like you, have some respect."

Xavier goes quiet, making a defeated grunt.

Everyone does their little, 'awws' again. You turn to her, now that everyone knows about your status.

“At least we can kiss in the hallways?”

“Maybe save that for the dorms.”

“Can we kiss right now?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows lift up, and she sighs, turning you away from the group and giving you a light kiss, as your lips press together, she nudges a small Mr. Tuesday now with inverted colors, a black bunny. They're both holding hearts and have a star over their head.

"Now Mr. Tuesday has a Mr. Wednesday," she says softly, tucking her black jacket tighter around you as you continue hugging her.

"And Miss. Y/L/N has a Miss. Addams."

[milligramspoison]

Since it seems like MCR is performing TBP from front to back at WWWY next year, here are the times they last performed each song!

(Counting out setlist staples such as WTTBP for example)

The Black Parade

The End. - last performed on October 7th, 2007

Dead! - last performed on August 27th, 2011

This Is How I Disappear - last performed on March 26th, 2023

The Sharpest Lives - last performed on May 9th, 2008

I Don’t Love You - last performed on October 17th, 2022

House of Wolves - last performed on March 20th, 2023

Cancer - last performed on March 19th, 2023

Sleep - last performed on March 26th, 2023

Disenchanted - last performed on October 7th, 2007

Blood - has never been performed live (yet)

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s. reid

(chapter one, the only exception)

‘I've always lived like this ,keeping a comfortable distance and up until now I had sworn to myself, that I'm content with loneliness, because none of it was ever worth the risk, but you are the only exception. You are the only exception’

summary; you never thought you’d find yourself falling in love again, especially not this easily, especially not with the boy from the library.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationship history, reader is closed off, avoidant!reader, lowkey a friends w benefits situation but its so much more, reader is lowkey so real; fluff!!

taglist; @gghostwriter @iknwreid (it literally wont let me tag anyone else!! Im sorry!!)

1.8k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

White bed sheets were tousled, there was faint music that could be heard from your radio in the living room, even with the door closed, the air was warm around you, lights turned off, yet the fairy lights twirled around your bed frame left a warm glow across the room that increased the delicacy of the moment.

You admired the boy laying beside you, on his back, eyes up to the ceiling as soft breaths left his parted lips. The warmth of the fairy lights making his skin glow, every small detail further defined, his eyes with a slight gleam, you were unsure if that was from the lights or the intimate moment shared.

“I can feel you staring.” He said, his voice was careful, quiet as if not to ruin the fragile peace in the air. Your eyes didn’t leave his face, despite his words, they remained memorising the details of his side profile, the curve of his nose and jaw, the plush of his lips, the fullness of his eyelashes; every detail committed to a special corner of your mind.

Then his head turned at your lack of response, his eyes meeting yours, then there was a small smile on his face, lips curved upwards, his eyes mirroring your own as he admired you in the gentle lighting. “What is it?” He asked, his voice still so quiet.

Your lips curved upwards as his had a few minutes ago as his eyes stopped their dancing over your features to meet your eyes. “Im just glad, y’know.” You admitted, the same gentleness in your voice. As if this moment would end if you spoke too loudly, to fast, too much.

He shuffled slightly to reposition so he was laying on his side, body turned towards your own. He propped himself up on his elbow, “Me too.” He said, you didn’t have to say what it was you were glad about, he knew. He always knew.

Then his smile widened before he spoke again, “Im glad I didn’t give up when you rejected me the first two times.” He mumbled gently. A breathy laugh left your lips at the memory.

When you met Spencer at the library a whole six months ago, the last thing you had expected was to end up falling for him. Sure, you were attracted to him but you had been attracted to people before. Sure, the way he had rambled about the book you were borrowing had you smiling and listening intently. Sure, when he had asked you if you wanted to get coffee, you had considered it for a moment.

Then you politely declined. You watched his face twitch in disappointment and embarrassment before you had explained it was nothing against him, you just weren’t interested in dating at the moment. You thought that was the end of it when he nodded and said he understood then left with a small smile, and quick sheepish wave.

Then you saw him at the library again two weeks later, you invited him to sit with you because you could feel his eyes on you from across the room. He sat with you in the library for two hours that day, the both of you laughing and rambling about different books you had read.

Spencer was respectful of your decision not to date. He didn’t pry or ask why which you were the most respectful for, but every time he saw you at the library he would sit with you, you two would talk sometimes, sometimes you would just sit together and read silently, he would finish an abundance of books in the time it took you to read one, and for a while you were convinced he didn’t actually read them.

Then he explained his ability and knowledge one day when he noticed you eyeing him weirdly. Then you were both impressed and interested. It felt like a push and pull game when he asked you out again two days later, and you were almost going to say yes. You were almost going to forget about the hurt you had endured in past relationships or how nothing seemed to work out for you. You were almost going to forget about the engraved belief that you just weren’t made to be loved.

Almost.

You rejected him again, but you told him you really enjoyed spending time with him and you would love to be friends. He had accepted and you felt guilty for the first time in a long time for rejecting someone, he was quick to notice that and reassure you he understood your decision and he would love to be your friend.

That friendship was a bliss. He would disappear sometimes, but when you learnt what he did for work it all made sense. You also didn’t really mind the disappearance of who seemed to be your only friend. You had gotten use to being alone, you enjoyed it. You relished in the space you had, the lack of expectation, the lack of chance of getting hurt.

The more time you spent with Spencer the more you realised how amazing he was. The way he spoke, the way his brain worked, the way he treated you and made you feel. You spent a long time in denial of these feelings for him you had grown, because it never ended well.

You didn’t date. You hadn’t for years and that was good, that was easy. You weren’t hurt or disappointed by meaningless flings or relationships ending badly, you didn’t spend your time trying to get over breakups or men who didn’t know the difference between their, there and they’re.

Not dating was easy. It was safe, and it was good. Until you met Spencer and all of those morals seemed to be thrown out the window every time he would smile, or open a door for you, buy you a collection of gifts when he learnt he had missed your birthday.

You had kissed him, one time when you were at his apartment. You hadn’t really even thought about what you were doing, you just knew he looked really good in the warm lighting of his kitchen, placing a tray of baked cupcakes on the stovetop to cool. You just knew that whatever fear you had of relationships didn’t seem so scary when Spencer was around.

He had kissed you back, almost instantly after a brief moment of surprise. His hands cupped your jaw and curled into your hair, his lips pressed desperately against yours as if he had spent his entire life waiting for this moment alone, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Never had you been kissed like that before.

The conversation after the kiss was a blur in your memories. He asked what that meant. You didn’t know how to answer. He took control of the situation, the conversation that seemed too difficult to have and he made it all seem so much easier, he said he liked you, a lot and that if you liked him back at all, then he wanted to explore that.

You had cried when you opened up to him about your fears of relationships. He had almost cried seeing you cry. The girl who seemed so strong, so independent all the time, crying. He felt guilty as if he had made you cry and from that moment on he had promised he would never be the reason for your tears again, unless happy.

He had promised you he wouldn’t hurt you, he rubbed his calloused thumb over the silk of your skin, pushing away the tears that tainted the skin he deemed so pretty. He had promised you could take it slow, that he wanted to take it slow. That this was all on your terms.

Thats how you ended up here, two months after that night, laying in your bed together after a moment so intimate. Not together, not offical. Not yet.

“Me too.” You mumbled back, he smiled at your words.

“Where’d you go? You disappeared on me” He mumbled as his hand reached out to wrap gently around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Like he needed to hold you. He did that a lot, you noticed. His hands were constantly on you in some way, as if he didn’t believe you were real unless he could physically feel you there.

You let out a breathy laugh, “I was thinking about how we met.” You said honestly. It was almost impossible not to be honest to him. His eyes held something that made the words pour out of you before you could help it. He was so sweet, so gentle, so safe. He was everything you thought you’d never have.

He hummed in acknowledgment as his arm wrapped further around your waist, then he shifted so he was burying his face in between your shoulder and neck, the space he spent so much time you wondered if it smelt more like him then you. His lips pressed against the soft skin there before he mumbled, “You were reading a horrible book.”

You let out an infectious string of laughter, you could feel his smile widen against the skin of your neck. “It really wasn’t that bad.” You defended half playfully — but it was, the book was so poorly written at the time you had been frustrated you wasted your time reading it. Now however, you were so glad because it was what insinuated your first conversation with Spencer when he muttered about it being a bad book.

He pressed another soft kiss against your neck, before pulling back and tilting his head up slightly to look at you, “It really was.” He argued, in the same tone. A warm playful smile on his lips. You felt an ache in your heart, the best kind of ache. The one that seemed to happen every-time he smiled at you.

You felt warm in the cheeks when he looked at you like that, like you were something worth looking at. That wasn’t something you had felt before. Nobody had even felt as safe as Spencer did.

You laughed, “It was pretty bad.” You gave in. He nodded enthusiastically in agreement as he leant down to steal a gentle kiss from your lips, before pulling back, he repositioned so he was hovering over you, on his knees in between your thighs, hands pressed into the pillows on either side of your head, caging you in.

You weren't sure if you had ever been in love before. You thought you had, with your ex all those years ago. You thought a hurt like that could only come from from a love so deep. However with the way Spencer was staring down at you, the way he brought one of his hands to brush gentle strays of hair away from your face and then moved his hand under you jaw to tilt your head upwards and kiss you so gently.

Well, if this was what love felt like than you had never been in love before. Not until now. You swore off dating, you swore off falling for someone, you swore off letting another person in, letting another person know you.

Well Spencer was the execption.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❛ 𝓑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝓞𝐅 𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓜𝐄𝐒𝐒. ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ❀ ˚◞ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 : 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you discover you have a next door neighbor after 5 months of believing no one lived there. a tall, mysterious man who rarely speaks and made of pure muscle.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. angst, little fluff, swearing, brief mention of stalking (but it’s false and paranoia), very little interaction

❛⠀ masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

you regret not grocery shopping like planned last week. damn work has been kicking your ass. coming home when it’s past sunset. it’s your manger’s fault for changing your schedule this week.

carrying three heavy ass plastic bags and your purse on your shoulder, you waddle towards the front door of your apartment. a frustrated groan escape your lips as you dig through your purse for your keys while balancing the three bags in one hand.

the moment you find the keys, you feel one bag slipping from your fingers. “no no no no—“

just as the bag slips off, a large hand catches it in a firm grip. looking up, you see a man standing before you. a man way too tall, like a fucking tower. his head covers the hallway light, casting a shadow over you.

undoubtedly handsome, probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. dark chocolate wavy hair that looks a bit messy. piercing mahogany eyes which you’ve never seen before. is that even possible? the sharpest fucking cheekbones to exist, let alone on a man. his facial structure is insane.

not to mention those bulky shoulders. heavily outlined through the black shirt he’s wearing. damn he fit as hell just by those damn shoulders.

“oh- thanks.”

he hums with a light nod.

you try not ogle at him too much and unlock your front door. ignoring the heat in your face as you feel his stare, observing your every move. unlocking the door and shoving your keys back in your purse, you turn to him and take the bag from him.

“thanks again.” you offer a small smile.

the man nods once again then walks away. you expect him to walk down the hall but instead he walks up to the door next door. pulling out keys from his front jean pocket and unlocking the door.

oh shit- he’s your neighbor?

that’s the actual person who owns that apartment?

for the past 5 months you’ve been living in this apartment complex, you never saw anyone leaving or coming out of that apartment. you solely believe it was empty. but now, there was an owner.

you hurry inside, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, and close the door. after locking it and taking off your shoes, you place down the grocery bags on the dining table with a heavy sigh. your sweet white terrier luna approaches, barking happily and tail wagging. you crouch down to pet her.

you decide to take a shower after a long day. the need to feel refresh and relax. after your nice shower and slipping into a silky nightgown, you do your nightly skin care routine. thoughts about your neighbors has never left your mind.

that handsome face plagued your mind. how close he stood next to you, almost feeling him against you that made your face heat up. how he towered you so easily. a complete giant compared to you.

but what you really thought about was that you never saw him before. especially a man taller than the door and built like a tank, it would be easy to notice him. every time you leave and come home, that door is always closed. even with a shared wall, there was no noise coming from the other side.

now, five months later and some random guy shows up and claims to be the owner.

something about him is so… alluring. you’ve only know the guy for 30 seconds and already conjured up vibes about him. he never spoke a word to you, only hummed and nod as you thanked him for helping you. quiet and alluring.

now it’s confirmed you have a next door neighbor, you’re suspicious of him.

how long has he been living here? why he did suddenly show up now? where has he been before? will you see him in the morning when you leave for work? will you ever see him again in general?

you shake your head to not overload your tired mind with a million questions.

undoing the covers and getting into bed, you spend some time on your phone before falling asleep. setting your alarm for the morning. luna joins you and cuddles with you. the minute your head lays on the soft pillow, you’re taken to dreamland.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

you’re running late.

rushing around the apartment while getting ready made you spill your coffee over your brand new white blouse. it was your favorite blouse too. angrily digging in your closet, you find a baby pink one and hurriedly change out of the now coffee stained white blouse. you’re gonna buy a new one later.

after kissing luna goodbye with loving pets and grabbing your purse, you rush out the door. rushing down the hall, the elevator door was closing.

“wait wait wait!” you panic, running towards the elevator, as much as your little heels let you.

you can’t waste any more time. waiting for the elevator is dreadful since everyone uses it, especially since it’s the morning and everyone’s heading to work. taking the stairs would be a nightmare and you can’t afford sore, tired feet.

your worries fade when a hand stops the elevator doors from closing, they heard you.

“oh my god, thank you so much.” you sound breathless as you hurried inside the elevator to not keep them waiting, too busy trying to catch your breath to notice the person beside you.

“no problem.”

that rich, baritone voice. you instantly recognize it and glance upwards.

your tall, mysterious neighbor.

your alleged neighbor who suddenly showed up after 5 months with no trace of his existence.

your eyes rake over his bulky figure. a black duffel bag over his board shoulder. a plain black compression shirt hugging his biceps graciously-

nope, don’t think too deep.

you look away and keep your gaze forward. awkward silence between you two. unfortunately, you both live on the 5th floor so it takes a few minutes to get down to the first floor. a few minutes of awkward silence.

you remain unfazed and mind your business, waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the first floor. music playing through your airpods at low volume in case he talks to you. but also so he can’t hear your music blasting through them. it was a smart move when he spoke to you, which surprised you.

“your dog was howling this morning.”

a wave of embarrassment hits you. “yeah… sorry about that. she gets excited about treats.”

you’d reward luna with treats if she behaves well or does something really cute. your other neighbors didn’t mind, hearing a dog’s howl is cute. luna isn’t a loud howler but your next door neighbor says otherwise, mainly because he’s next door.

it also didn’t surprise you that he knew it was luna because you’re the only person on the 5th floor who owns a dog. your neighbor across mrs. harrington, an elderly lady, owns two cats but they’re super quiet.

the elevator reaches the first floor with a soft ding. your neighbor surprises you even more when he silently offers you to go first with his hand, standing to the side. you mutter a soft ‘thank you’ without eye contact and exit the elevator. suppose he does has manners, despite how suspicious he is.

walking to the parking garage, you hear his footsteps behind you. you can’t deny how your heartbeat increases as he follows you. he may be walking to his car but you can’t shake off the feeling that is he actually following, stalking you perhaps.

those accusations were dismissed when you hear his footsteps fade away. as you make it to your car and get inside, through the window shield you see your neighbor across the lot hopping on a bike.

oh shit- he owns a bike? a black one specifically. by the looks of it, appears to be a ducati.

damn, that’s lowkey hot.

secretly, you watch him drive off. the motorcycle engine echos the entire lot.

a motorcycle guy, interesting.

snapping out of thought, you remember you’re running late and start driving off to work.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

“so he just showed up out of nowhere?”

“yes, eddie!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. “for 5 fucking months, i’ve never seen anyone coming in or out of that door.”

eddie, your coworker and friend, stares at you with a surprise look. rubbing his chin with a hand as he leans against the desk.

“hmm… maybe he had a business trip?”

your expression falls flat. “a business trip for 5 months? be fucking for real, eddie.”

he shrugs. “just saying, maybe he’s fbi.”

a scoff left your lips as you turn around. rubbing your forehead with a hand as you feel an upcoming headache. “sure, fbi agent. sure, eddie.” much sarcasm, one of your famous traits.

“i’m serious, they go away on long ass missions.” eddie suggests. “or maybe military.”

you look back at him with a deadpan expression before heavily sighing. it’s possible eddie could be right, he could be in the military or fbi, it seems reasonable. but in reality, you don’t know what he does or even he does anything generally. those suspicions vibes still linger on him.

“maybe.” you shrug, crossing your arms. “but he’s still suspicious.”

eddie snorts, the corners of his lips raised up into a grin. “well, if anything happens, call me.”

you flash a small smile. “thanks.”

he hums happily as he leans off the desks, lightly patting your shoulder as he walks past you.

“oh wait—“

you turn around. “what’s up?”

“how’s anne?”

of course he’s ask you how his ex, your friend, was doing. he never left the conversation without asking how anne was since you talk daily. the breakup was hard, for both of them but especially eddie. poor guy was in rock bottom for months.

“she’s fine, got promoted at her job.” you see the way his eyes light up with enthusiasm.

“oh wow! that’s amazing, she deserves it.”

“she does. maybe you should tell her yourself.”

eddie blankly stares at you, mainly at your wild suggestion. “r-really? i don’t wanna—“

“do it, she’d love to hear from you. trust me.” a soft smile illustrated on your face.

he smiles on return. “okay, i will.”

you two share a smile before going your separate ways, mainly to not get caught of being distracted and off tasked. jameson doesn’t like slackers.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

a sigh of relief left your lips as you return home after a long day at work. after changing into comfy clothes, you take luna out to the bathroom and walk around a bit. the refreshing breeze of the night gently fitting your face. snuggling yourself in your sweater.

you head back inside and decide to check your mail. one from the bank and the other a costco coupon. the third one however isn’t meant for you.

miguel o'hara

apartment unit 99

it’s your neighbor’s. your apartment is 98, it adds up. now you have a name to go with his face.

there isn’t much information on the envelope, only his name and address as well the address of the sender but you don’t recognize it. this peaked your curiosity about this man.

you decide not to snoop further and take it to its respective receiver. it’s none of your business and you just wanna jump into bed.

after taking the elevator, you approach his door. suddenly, you become a bit nervous. you’ve only encountered this man twice, had awkward conversations, and now stand at his front door with his mail in your hand. his silent, intimidating demeanor makes you feel uneasy. a quiet, lonely guy who randomly shows up as your next door neighbor after five months of silence.

why are you nervous about giving out mail? just tell him the mixup, hand him his mail and leave. plain and simple. if only your racing heart agrees with that.

exhaling a deep breath, you knock on the door ever so gently. hearing the door unlock makes your heart jump. behind it is your tall, mysterious neighbor. clad in a plain white shirt that looks a bit tight on him. hair a bit messy, a few strings dangling over his forehead.

“uh… sorry for bothering you. your mail got mixed up with mine.” you went straight to the point, holding out the envelope to him.

his gaze falls down to the envelope. “hm… thanks.” he gingerly takes it from your grasp. “sorry about that.” he apologized in a light tone.

you shrug, lightly shaking your head. “it’s all good.”

glancing down, you see luna sniffing his feet. half of her body inside the doorway.

“luna, no.” you gently tug her away by her leash. “sorry.” you mutter awkwardly, a bit embarrassed to spare him a glance.

“it’s fine.”

the task is done and time to leave.

“night.” you mutter, walking back to your apartment and head inside without looking back at him.

what you failed to notice is your neighbor observing you returning to your apartment and closing the door. he remains standing there in silence for a moment then closes his door as well.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[wylldebee]

Song of Ice and Fire AU where the Starks have these prominent canine teeth that are as sharp as a direwolf's. Some say it's the magic within the Stark bloodline dating back to when the First Men and the Children of the Forest lived in peace. Others say it's a sign of their kinship with the direwolves that has carried over even when direwolves died out. There's even an old tale about the time a Stark warged into a direwolf and mated with a real one on a dare. Either way, the Starks have these sharp ass fangs that are dangerous and oddly alluring. Special teething toys have to been made to survive the little years. Rickard had the "normal" Stark fangs. Think Luke Evans but bigger. He almost bit a man's finger off for insulting him. His sons Brandon and Benjen inherited his fangs. Despite being a cousin one removed from the Stark line, Lyarra Stark had the biggest and sharpest fangs. She could tear into a steak or a man's throat easily. One flash of her fangs as she feasted on a bloody steak and Rickard was instantly smitten. Her son Eddard and daughter Lyanna inherited her fangs (though Ned's were smaller, easily hidden, which fit with his quiet image). Robb and Bran inheritated Rickard's fangs like their uncles Brandon and Benjen. Rickon has Rickard's size but Lyarra's sharpness. Jon's is like Ned's but bigger, somewhere in between Ned and Lyarra's sizes. Sansa and Arya take completely after their grandmother. Headcanons underneath the read more.

— Rickon bit everyone when he was teething. A literal ankle biter. Ned still has the scars. — When Lyanna was rescuing Howland Reed she also bit one of the squires. Howland can still perfectly remember the victorious bloody grin on her face, fangs tipped with blood. — Robb and Jon used to practice snarling at each other when they were small. — Catelyn is into it. Like...into it. First Brandon then Ned. She's weak for the moments where Ned smiles wide enough he accidentally flashes his fangs. In their chambers in private she'll cup both sides of his face and trace his fangs with her thumbs and then it leads to sexy times and thus the Stark kids were born. — The Stark kids taught their direwolves how to snarl. — Instead of Nymeria biting Joffrey it's Arya. Nymeria just distracted him with her arrival. No direwolves die, not when Arya's fangs and lips are coated with blood and Joffrey bares the marks. Renly has to be carried out, laughing so hard he's wheezing. — Sansa kept her fangs filed to be more like a proper southern lady. It was painful but worth it (in her eyes). Come her time in King's Landing, she lets them get long and sharp again. Margaery is instantly in love (and highly aroused). (No seriously Margaery is literally shimmering in arousal all day every day. All Sansa has to do is flash her fangs and Marg is soaked.)

[ciaran]

one second. i want to talk about Jung Heewon and i can't pull quotes rn so it's all vibes it's about the way she IS Dokja's sword! SHE IS HIS SWORD. she loves him she lives for him she is his weapon, the best he has. in a world where Dokja could maybe get Yoo Joonghyuk to do what needs to be done, he understands; he can't rely on Joonghyuk the way he can rely on Heewon. because—she's loyal, to the burning core of her. because she is his, she didn't exist in twos, he made her, he decided the story she would inherit, he raised her up to be his sword and by god. she fucking is. i can't count how many times she throws herself into battle for him, unflinchingly, reliably, beautifully. she's backed by Uriel, one of the strongest constellations in the star stream, and she is first a judge of evil. she is so, so righteous. so determined to protect what needs protecting, punish what needs punishing, and when Eden won't back her she fights anyway. she fights and fights and fights for Kim Dokja and at the same time she resents him so much. how can she not, she is a sword and the hand that wields her keeps throwing her away. the hand that wields her keeps finding other ways to die when—when she's right there. when she could gut what wants him dead or kill him herself. no wonder she's the one who takes his self sacrificing the hardest, because it's like. he's her purpose. he's the hand that guides her. what can she do without him? why won't he just keep her, the way she is meant to be kept, as his strongest sword until the end. and the thing she hates most, because she's a sword, is that she's never thrown away for not being hard enough or sharp enough or quick enough; that she could understand, a sword that isn't good is discarded. but she is never discarded for not being good enough. she's discarded because the hand that wields her has found yet another reason to die and doesn't think about what will happen to the objects under his care when he does that. she resents him. he abandons her. she hates him as only a sword can hate its wielder. and her miracle; that she becomes someone detached from good and evil, becomes a force of pure unfettered righteousness against Dokja's enemies and her companions' enemies and then he goes and abandons her again. not because the fight is over. but because he doesn't care about the duty he owes her, and she does. she keeps waiting for him. she waits for three years and ten years and then decades. the sharpest blade. “that man is the world i wish to save”

[hwaightme]

Timezone

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🎸 pairing: rockstar!fiance!seonghwa x gn!reader 🎸 genre: fluff, long distance angst, established long-term relationship 🎸 summary: "Only thing that keeps us apart // Is a different timezone" - TIMEZONE by Måneskin; during a long tour, the only thing seonghwa wants is to come home to you, and to hold you in his arms 🎸 wordcount: 3.2k total 🎸 warnings/tags: not edited, language, songfic, enamoured simping activated, seonghwa misses you intensely, he is one step away from swimming to you, seonghwa has tattoos and lip piercings, lyricist producer musician rock singer hwa good luck to us all, words of endearment/pet names (baby, angel... etc) 🎸 taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 🎸 a/n: this is for @starrysvn the most wonderful, beautiful soul. thank you for being who you are, ilysm. and may this small manifestation of our shared delulus bring some sunshine~

There was no salvation for a heart that was on the verge of breaking. No call could replace the sensation of a lover’s whisper, no video could replace the feeling of skin against skin nor of a warm and reassuring embrace. The myriad of details that made you who you were seemed to be slipping through Seonghwa’s fingers, and he was a desperate man drowning in quicksand of responsibility and routine.

Every chord was a strike of the coldest and sharpest blade on his tired body, and the sweat trickling down his face as he yelled his emotions to thousands masked the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was unbelievable, how in the faces of millions the only features he could ever make out were those that resembled yours. In every cheer he could only hear you, how you could make his name sound like magic. The lyrics – a simple selection of syllables, words, always fell short of describing how he felt, and every song appeared trivial compared to the fire in his heart, to your existence in his life.

Too many miles separated you, and he would be damned if he were to say that he was fine with it. This was the unbelievable curse of his work. An artist, a singer, a musical innovator who had evolved from being in a group of hoodlums with a dream to being in a star-studded collective, a band that was paving the way for many others and inspiring loyal and new fans to reach the stars with them. But where was his star? Even when surrounded by the speakers, side by side with his friends on those grand global stages, this question never left Seonghwa’s mind. Losing sight of what he truly desired, he ran into an oblivion.

After the concerts, it was customary for the young man to spend some time with his fans, still on an adrenaline rush and thus were expecting interaction, further connection, and insights into the most recent performance. However, tonight, he could not even begin to find the energy to press the right button. Claiming that he was feeling a little under the weather, Seonghwa delegated the role of publicity man to another member and hobbled to his hotel room, collapsing onto the bed sheets not caring for the state of his clothes, his hair, nor for the creases that were undoubtedly going to form. This was no issue.

The electric guitar, his trusted comrade in composition and emotional turmoil, was left in a black case on the floor. Stickers marking the cities he had visited decorated a portion of the surface, while the rest was another depiction of you. Scurrying off the bed, he erratically shot to the case and brought it up with him, letting it rest by his side so he could admire the artwork more closely. Over many days, you had decided to surprise him by painting the dark leather, echoing famous renaissance pieces and intricate flora. Impeccable, incorporating nods to his and your lives through symbolism, be it in the hint of a star ship, a guitar pick, or a paintbrush hidden in foliage, it was a reminder of a life that he always wanted to live and to keep close.

He wanted to destroy the walls of his room. He wanted to break the glass, fight the agony of the sorrowful monster eating away at his soul with physically radical action, anything to take his mind away from the fact that you were thousands of miles away, and that when he was cursed to be awake, you were in dreamland. He could not even protect you from the nightmares that you sometimes had. He could not keep you close. You were unable to run your hands through his inky black, long and tousled locks as a way to calm yourself. Why was he doomed to sacrifice the heavenly touches and sweet words in favour of roaming the globe like a madman, screaming the same things into a microphone until they lost all meaning? Seonghwa missed you. Violently. Painfully. Aggressively. If it took raising hell to elevate him to your heaven before he would ultimately crumble, he would choose to do so in a heartbeat.

His hands inadvertently travelled into the pocket of his flared jeans, fishing out the device which he had been glued to for the full duration of his tour. At any spare second. Lockscreen – your smiling face, surrounded by the scenery of his hometown when you two went for a visit over the holidays. Tapping in the date of your birthday, he came face to face with a photo where you two were together – a candid picture snapped by his closest friend and fellow band member during a celebratory dinner; you two laughing at a joke shared between yourselves, so in love that every part of you and him were intertwined. Seonghwa wanted to break himself apart. Take his heart and mind out and douse them in cold water so that at least for a moment he could have some space to breathe before ultimately repeating: you, you you again. Fingers flying to tap onto the messaging app you preferred to use most often, though the two of you had conversations going on almost every piece of social media, he scrolled through your chats, relistened to the voice messages and scrutinised every photo until it was re-imprinted in his brain. As if he could ever forget in the first place.

He would likely be a laughingstock, wouldn’t he? A man with the world at his feet, wanting nothing more than to collapse at the feet of another. Sure, his fans were no strangers to the fact that there was ‘a special someone’ in his life, though since he made sure to keep his private matters truly secure, no one knew who was the reason why he woke up even when the day was promising challenge and turmoil. The only sign of his undying devotion that he dared to expose with shameless pride was the tiny red band around his pinkie, a simple line alluding to the string of fate, of soulmates. One night, not too long ago even though it seemed that you knew each other for your entire lives, when you had the chance to spend time together without worrying about work matters and could let time trickle past while stargazing, he proposed. Perhaps it was not traditional, the four words uttered only in passing after you had already blessed him with your agreement. Instead Seonghwa had suggested the permanence of a tattoo as a symbol for your love, and revealed his faith and devotion. Written in the stars, he found his guidance in you. Just like the constellations, galaxies and mythical creatures permanently etched on his skin, he wanted to live the neverending story with you.

As he shifted his grip on the phone to glance at the red band, Seonghwa could not help but imagine what you could be doing right this second. Could you be stirring from sleep? Could you be getting ready for another day at work? How was that one personal project you picked up going? He hammered out letter after letter on driven by what had to be an external power, so much mightier than him. The rockstar bit his lower lip, feeling a tug on one of the piercings, but that made him simply bite down harder.

I’m losing my mind.

Without hesitation, he sent the message into the void, hoping that you would not be too worried and simply accept it as one of his eccentricities as an artist. Finally, he tugged off the leather jacket that had been clinging onto his body, suffocating him, and collapsed back onto the bed. Exhaustion was a beast weighing down on him and pushing him into the mattress. Nothing but a lonely carcass, Seonghwa imagined himself as carrion left for the devouring by devious promoters, producers, agents and the like. Freedom was an interesting concept in his industry. Did he have it? Or was it the case that as soon as he gave into a dream, he signed his very being away to be an offering for the money-hungry world? He was definitely going mad. He needed you. Seonghwa missed you. Feverish, anxious, he grabbed a fistful of the duvet with his free hand and counted the passing seconds, too many of them, but not as much as the distance between where he was supposed and wanted to be, and where he currently was.

A loud ringing jolted him out of his paralysing ruminations – his phone. He rolled his head to the side, and upon seeing the incoming video call could not be faster in wriggling to rest on the headboard and answer. So you were awake, and in a couple of seconds… there you were, hair in a loose side braid, a familiar vintage t-shirt adorning your shoulders. You were at the desk – your home office, cradling what had to be a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Nothing. Just how you liked it.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and soon enough, his smile returned to him too, though still a little weak, beaten down by the weeks spent apart. It was still dark where you were, while for him it was already dark. It was easy to face when with you, however – nothing could be brighter than you.

“You’re wearing my old clothes?” Seonghwa could not help but ask, too curious to refrain from the inquiry. You looked down at the shirt momentarily before lifting your head and nodding.

“Yep. There’s been a change of plans so I am working from home today. And… I wanted to have a day-long hug from my fiancé.”

“You always wear them better, and I wish it were me and not the tee, angel,” he sighed, eyes trailing down what part of you he could see. He might be wrong, but you appeared to be a little tired, dark circles more prominent under your gorgeous eyes, and movements a fraction more lethargic than how they would usually be in the mornings.

“Is that what you were losing your mind over?” you attempted to lighten the mood, but Seonghwa could not play along when the joke was a reality. You caught onto this quickly enough, and paused to look at him more closely.

Seonghwa could feel the intensity of your inspection. It was as though you were reading him like one of the many books you had collected. Basking in the attention from his lover, he leaned further back onto the pillows and let himself think out loud.

“We have another flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, next is the third to last concert, right-”

“I want to fly to you,” the young artist cut you off, staring at nowhere in particular as he voiced his one wish.

“It’s not too long now, Hwa, and then we have a whole month to ourselves. No touring. Home.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But also, I am proud of you. You are bringing dream to reality-“

“Fuck what I’m dreaming. What does all of this mean anyways?” he retorted, making you raise an eyebrow before leaning onto the desk.

“All of this means that you are yourself. You are an artist. A light for so many souls. And if you cannot hear this, then let me remind you that I love you, the you who is so driven, so talented and so hardworking. Park Seonghwa who has been destined to become a star and give hope to millions. You are yourself, and that is what is so precious and iconic about you.”

You had a way with words. You always did. Stepping in when he was at his lowest and managing to drag him out of what he had assumed was an abyss, you were his biggest supporter, cheerleader, muse. When he was afraid to put pen to paper or deemed a melody worthless, you were the one to encourage him to experiment, try things out regardless, and with such strength that now it was a philosophy he abided by; it never hurt to try, and perfection was impossible. What was achievable, however, was satisfaction and happiness with the self. It was more than enough to try. And now, you were the one fearlessly bearing the catastrophic mass that was his worries with the last tour dates.

“Oh how dare you…” he mumbled, lips trembling ever so slightly as he pushed out the words. Involuntarily a mist settled over his eyes, and Seonghwa’s surroundings began to blur.

“No, baby come on, don’t cry, or we’ll be crying together. Let’s stay strong for each other, yeah? Like the dragon you have? Let’s leave the tears for later, and hopefully make the source of them a happy one,” you cooed, your own heart being torn apart as you witnessed your lover’s vulnerability, raw misery expressing itself as the hard exterior of a professional rockstar fell away. The hint at one of his many tattoos made Seonghwa’s mouth twitch into a tiny smile, an adoring gesture to remind your fiancé that you could draw each of the masterpieces from memory, having spent many nights tracing them with your digits.

“I-… Y/N I… I love you so much, you know that, right?” The confession turned query was choked, feeble, fragile, an offering made of the thinnest glass. One that you would protect with your life.

“Hwa, I love you too. So much…”

“Everything makes me think of you…” fatigue was evident, coating his vocal cords thick with a somnolent huskiness.

“Soon, you won’t have to remember me. You will have me in real time. Will you look forward to that for me?”

“Always.”

One topic, another, talking about nothing and everything at once. Trivial matters transformed into beautiful tales. In what had appeared to him to be no time at all, you had to rush into your first meeting of the day, while he was left a little less lonely in the hotel room continents away from you, with only his guitar and your reassuring love to keep him company. A hope, an excitement rekindled in his chest, bubbling up and flying across the bloodstreams into a tingling sensation in the fingertips, and a pleasant, hazy buzz in his brain. Caught between what had to be sleep and delirium, Seonghwa moved exclusively on instinct. In a few movements, he produced a tattered notebook and pen that had listened to his every confession and flipped it to an empty page before setting it down on the sheets.

Carefully, he took the guitar out of its case, and upon checking that it was properly tuned let a few notes hang in the air. The longer Seonghwa stared at the wall, the more confident he became in the fact that he could see you standing there in front of him, and as the words began to pour, it was you who he was confiding in. When with you, he was not afraid. When dedicating yet another song to you, he could not care less for the lack of rest, for how he greeted the dawn. He had a week until the last show, and he sure as hell was going to make full use of it.

The arena was silent aside from a few yells, before they too, succumbed to the suspense. The spotlights were almost blinding, and Seonghwa suddenly felt grateful for the fact that his image allowed for sunglasses. Elegantly perched on the bridge of his nose, they masked his anxiety as he adjusted his microphone, setting it back onto the stand while the rest of the band was exchanging glances and making the last checks before the grand finale, what he had decided would be the last ‘official’ song of the concert, and therefore the tour. Of course, the audience would ask for an encore. Of course, he would step right back out on stage to perform it – the act had already been planned in advance. But it was this song, one that he and his closest friends had spent night and day finalising, recording, even sending off to be made commercial, that would be his final word.

“Distance is measured in miles, and in how strongly you feel them. This is ‘Timezone’,” following the brief introduction, he momentarily shut his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. In that split second, he did not exist. He was not on stage, he was home. Seonghwa could feel your hand on his shoulder and could float in your perfume. This was no different to how he would play for you in the living room – anything you wished for, he would either perform or learn on the spot or even create. So, maybe, just maybe, you will be able to hear him now, too. And how he was calling out for you, and was counting the seconds until he could see you again.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

A roar overtaking expressions of gratitude. With every bow the crowd grew wilder and wilder. Chants praising the song were unfathomably strong, and Seonghwa had no doubt that the videos would go viral. Would you see them? Would you message him after? He did not need the answers to these questions. Not when he almost dropped his guitar as he saw you standing backstage, arms open wide, a staff lanyard around your neck. He was thankful for how you did not mind his sweat-covered arms, his glistening forehead as he pressed himself against you. He was enamoured with how your lips fit perfectly together, piercings and all, as he planted one kiss after another, each one bringing him back to life. He was eternally devoted to every moment with you.

“I told you, soon, didn’t you?” He could not respond, instead choosing to nod lest he break down in the midst of his overwhelming elation, “same timezone…” you altered the lyrics – sunlight after a rainstorm.

“I’m home, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair before pulling you even closer to him, arms wound tight around your body, fingers dancing on your back as though he was still in disbelief that you were here.

“Welcome home, my love,” he leaned into your hand that reached for his face, letting you cup it. With nothing to keep you two apart, Seonghwa let himself get lost in your eyes, the string of fate winding tighter and tighter until his, and your heart were both glistening in a healing gold, the hints of cracks sealed and more beautiful than ever, standing the test of time, of space, of dreams.

🎸 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

enjoyed? please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you, much love!

[tossedout]

on being touched in the head, on "she's really weird", on knowing too much

frank bidart // edited wikipedia page for Jester's privilege // joan of arc, john everett millais // the sharpest lives, my chemical romance // x // from the book of time, mary oliver // x // back to life, mother mother

I feel some shame in not having as sophisticated or underground titles to pull from (many of these are sourced from Pinterest and later clawed at for their origin). Not to create excuses for my literary squalor, but I WILL be expanding my studies in the future.

[lam-ila]

Sharpest Tool || Carlos Sainz

Summary: Inspired by Sharpest Tool by Sabrina Carpenter.

Word Count: 1,587

Warnings: a few swears and an argument between reader and Carlos (please let me know if you find any more that i should add)

F1 Masterlist

a/n: thank you mel for helping me figure out the ending to this! i had two options and i very much like the one she chose better (which is the one that's in this fic haha)

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

You and Carlos were… well you didn’t know. You acted like a couple, you did things like a couple, but you weren’t. You met the whole F1 family, meeting Lando, Charles, and even little Leo Leclerc. You went to a few F1 races in the 2024 season so far, the highlight being the Australian Grand Prix.

The race was just perfect for you and Carlos, and the post-race events were also just perfect. People assumed you were a couple, you felt like a couple, until media day of the Japanese Grand Prix when Carlos stopped texting you.

You two continued like that; sometimes you acted like a couple, you went to his races, then he stopped texting you. You constantly second guessed yourself and your romantic moments with Carlos, but you found yourself going back to himself every time.

You were in one of those times where you and Carlos weren’t talking to each other. You went to the Belgian Grand Prix, then summer break arrived and you hadn’t heard a peep from him. He was all you could think about, even while you sat at your desk at work on a random Tuesday.

Standing up to go on your lunch break, you grabbed your phone and tapped on the screen to check your notifications. You were about to put your phone in your back pocket when your eyes got caught on a text from Carlos.

You rolled your eyes at the soft ‘hey’ he sent, then noticed another text from him asking you if you wanted to go to one of his upcoming races. You quietly scoffed and shoved your phone in your back pocket, walking away from your desk to go on your lunch break.

You were furious. Carlos ignored you for a week and then casually asks you to go to his race? You weren’t sure how to respond. Just ignore him back? Text something snippy? Block him? Answer and say yes?

No. You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. You told yourself you wouldn’t agree to spending more time with Carlos if he asked again. But you wanted to so badly. You craved his touch, his kisses, his romantic gestures, but you knew it would only end in heartbreak, just like it always did.

You busied yourself with your work for the rest of the day, completely engulfing your mind into it to only thinking about it. You hadn’t thought about the texts that were sent to you by Carlos until later that day when you returned home from work. You crashed onto your couch after changing out of your work clothes and as you were about to open a text from one of your friends, your eyes glanced down at the still unopened texts from him.

You stared at it for a few minutes, contemplating everything about those texts and how you should respond, or even if you should respond.

You know what? Fuck it. You only live once, right?

You opened the texts, immediately bringing up the keyboard and typing ‘i’d love to! i’ll let my work know so i can get a few days off’. You quickly pressed send and turned the screen off before you could give yourself a chance to back out and delete the text. You squeezed your eyes shut, the small amount of time before receiving a text back feeling like hours. Your eyes opened once you felt your phone vibrate due to Carlos’ text that read ‘great! let me know when you find out cariño’.

—————

You managed to get a few days off of work and Carlos flew you out for the Dutch Grand Prix. He greeted you as you got off the plane with his signature smile and you couldn't help but smile back. You felt like an idiot smiling at his stupid smile and admiring his stupid hair and running into his stupid arms for a hug as he kissed you on the top of your head with his stupid lips. His lips travelled down, pressing a kiss against your forehead, then one against your cheek, then you angled your head to press your own lips against his.

And then there was his stupid voice. Once you parted, with your nose nuzzled against his, Carlos mumbled a low "I missed you, cariño." You leaned forward to capture his lips in another kiss, humming into the kiss in agreement.

The rest of that day was euphoric; you and Carlos spent the entire time in his hotel room and ordered room service, watched tv, cuddled, and soaked the presence of each other in. You woke up the next day limbs tangled with Carlos' and light peaking through the curtains. You both groggily got up after a few minutes of laying in bed together, simultaneously getting ready for media day and taking a few seconds out of your routines every now and then to press your lips together in short, but passionate kisses.

You went through media day acting like a couple, just as you had many times before, but at the end of the day when you entered Carlos' hotel room for the night, you broke. You couldn't act like everything was okay anymore.

"What are we?" You asked Carlos the minute after you took your shoes off upon entering the hotel room.

"What do you mean?" Carlos rebutted, stepping closer to you to meet you in a kiss. Knowing what he was about to do, you placed your hand flat against his chest, stopping him in his tracks about one step away from you.

"This isn't normal, Carlos." You kept eye contact with him, trying to portray your sincerity in your words. He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "You're lying to yourself if you think we're fine. You know you are." Carlos took your hand off of his chest, holding it in between the both of you and despite how much you knew you shouldn't let him hold it, you let him do so.

"Cariño, you confuse me." You abruptly pulled your hand out of his at his words, take a step back from his to increase the distance between the two of you.

"That's just it!” You started to pace around the area in between the door and the bed you shared with Carlos the night before. “You're either blissfully ignorant or you actually don't realize anything's wrong because we never talk about it!"

“Cariño-”

“Stop calling me that!” You abruptly turned on your heel to pointedly look at Carlos. He looked at you, mouth slightly parted in shock, as you stood in front of him, breathing heavily.

"Okay," Carlos cautiously began, not wanting to provoke you even more. "I'll stop calling you that. But I thought you liked when I called you that?"

"I did. But fuck, I'm such an idiot because this has all just been casual for you, right?" You continued before Carlos could answer your question. "Just a casual little on again off again fling. But this has been everything to me. My life has revolved around you. I've used up so many of my vacation days to be at your races. I've cried myself to sleep because of the multiple times you stopped talking to me. I've never been happier while knowing you, but I've also never been in a worse state of mind while knowing you."

You stopped after spewing out your little monologue, waiting for Carlos to respond. You stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other in shock.

"I'm done." You stated after Carlos didn't say anything. "I'm done with all of this, whatever this even was." You started to collect your belongings from around the hotel room, refusing to look at Carlos because you knew you'd fall back into his arms if you looked at him.

"Let me at least get you on a flight home." Carlos finally spoke up.

"Fine."

"And text me when you get home. Please. I need to know that you get home safe." He pleaded, eyes not wavering from you hurriedly moving across the room.

"Why?" You stopped in your tracks, still facing away from him.

Because I really do love you.

"You're not going to like the answer."

"Fair enough." You shrugged, leaning down to pick up your bag and shoving your belongings into it. "I'll be waiting in the lobby until you find a flight for me." Walking past Carlos towards the door without sparing another glance at him, you put on your shoes and hovered your hand above the door nob, giving him one last chance to say something.

"Go." Carlos softly lamented. "I'll text you the information once I book one for you. You won't even have to see me."

You left the room without saying another word, slowly and quietly closing the door behind you to avoid anyone in the neighbouring rooms from hearing a loud slam.

Instead of immediately starting to find a flight for you, Carlos sank down into the desk chair that sat next to the bed. His head fell into his hands as he mentally beat himself up. How did he screw up this bad? How did he lose you?

He glanced towards the closed door, debating whether or not he should run down to the lobby to beg for you back. But he didn't, despite how much he wanted to. He couldn't do that to you after everything he put you through.

Maybe he'd earn your forgiveness one day.

——————————

F1 Taglist: @2manytabsopen @matthewkniesys @fallinallincurls @c-losur3 @sof1shticated

join my taglist here!

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.05. intros.

NOW LIVE . . . PRETTY SETTERS + PROBLEM CHILDREN

kozume kenma  ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

second year in college majoring in marketing. also a part time streamer so yeah he’s a little busy :) currently roomates with y/n, when he asked her to room with him he told her they’d split the rent evenly but she has no idea he’s actually paying *totally* just *a bit* more than half <3 he’s just happy she’s with him but he's also been working very hard not to get her caught in any stream. thinks that things might blow up a little bit if people suddenly find out he’s rooming with a girl–a slightly well known skater of all people–and he’s right for thinking so. some of his fans are already a little weird about shipping him with others but he ignores it when he can. definitely has had a thing for y/n since high school and always felt a little nervous whenever she came to watch his games but kuroo was the only one on the team who noticed. he’s grown a lot more comfortable around her since then <3 they’re also co-parents of a cat they’re definitely not supposed to have in their apartment.

kuroo

third year studying a degree in sports management :) best friends with kenma and oikawa who he’s roomates with. they’re like the extremely less romantic version of whatever kenma and y/n have going on lmao 💀 a very small youtuber who often ends up posting videos that people request him for explaining how things in the sport world works and about science and then will turn around and post an 8 hour long minecraft playthrough video. also good friends with y/n but is mainly hearing everything from kenma’s side. he’s always kenma’s go-to person for advice whenever he’s confused about something and needs help <3

oikawa

third year also majoring in nutrition but he’s cruising :) did volleyball and skated in high school but decided to pursue figure skating once he graduated. has worked a few times with y/n and they're good friends. also considers himself a girl’s girl and y/n backs him up on this <3 she wishes they worked together more but she doesn’t see him often. oikawa’s been besties with kuroo since high school and as a result also got to know kenma quite well. he’s pretty observant and has picked up on what’s happening between him and y/n as well so if kuroo doesn’t know how to respond to kenma they sit together at their little kitchen table in their dorm at midnight debriefing the tension going on between the two over tea and biscuits or something idk

hinata shoyo & kageyama tobio ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

shoyo

first year majoring in communications bc bro is not the sharpest tool in the shed </3 was immediately pulled into kenma’s group because literally all of his superiors adore him and kageyama got pulled into the group as well (they like him too <3) he’s the group’s ball of sunshine whenever hope seems lost as finals round the corner and makes everyone’s day when he smiles <3

kageyama

first year in college also majoring in communications. volleyball’s taking up a lot of his time but hinata pulls him around to be a part of the group whenever he can. he was a little terrified of what oikawa would think at first but oikawa could care less at this point and his living his best skater life. kageyama’s still obsessed with vending machines as always and usually gets kidnapped by hinata because he always knows where to find him.

prev. | m.list | next

[daguerreotyping]

Cabinet card of "BEAUTY," the Male Chick-Rearing Cat, 1889. As the back of the card enthuses:

This remarkable animal has been exhibited to at least a million of people, and no person has ever claimed to have even heard of a cat like him. It is really believed that his counterpart does not exist in the world.

At three months of age he had not seen a chicken. Immediately on being shown to him they were adopted, with every sign of affection that a cat or hen could show for their young, brooding and caressing them, and eating and playing with them. In no case has he shown hostility, never having bitten or scratched a chicken, never drawn blood on one; yet he possesses a full complement of the sharpest teeth and nails, is a great mouser, would kill other birds instantly, is exceedingly active and more than ordinarily playful for a cat of his age.

When we reflect that young birds and fowls are the legitimate prey and food of the feline race, and that this is a male cat, (males being more ferocious and destructive than the females, especially in this species), it must be conceded that this is an extraordinary freak of nature.

He has been admired by and has delighted multitudes of people, and it is hoped that many thousands more may see him. At this writing, (Oct. 15th, 1889), he is just two years old, and has been exhibited twenty-one months, having been placed on exhibition within one week from the time his extraordinary peculiarity was discovered.

It is only fair to state that he has a fine general disposition, his only other peculiarity being an unusual stubbornness; yet he will bite and scratch vigorously if provoked, but never can be provoked by his feathered little ones.

We presume that the large money offers his owners have received for "Beauty," exceed in amount any offer ever before made for an animal of his species; but it seems to them that no amount of money could be offered that would purchase him, for, besides being of great commercial value, he would be most sadly missed by those who have had his care from kittenhood, and to whom he has endeared himself by his wonderful intelligence, strange affection and lovable ways.

He delights all who see him; but none really know him save those who are constantly with him. Employees and and attaches of the various museums where he has been exhibited have invariably become so attached to him as to really deplore his departure at the close of our engagements.

"Beauty" lives in almost regal style, everything being done for his comfort that is consistent with show life.

He is a full maltese, weighing about thirteen pounds.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter three, full machine)

‘I'm a forest fire, you're the kerosene. I had a life here before you, but now it's burnin'. I know I know better and you're ignorin' me, still, if you asked me to run away, i'd go easily’

summary; you know you have a bad history with relationships, so to try not to get in your own head when you stop hearing from spencer.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

2.1k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Spencer. You understood the demands of his job, that it kept him busy and a lot of the time you were fine with that — you enjoyed your space and your own personal time. You had never had an issue with him being gone on cases before but he would always text you or call you when he got the chance.

And never had he been on a case for two weeks. Not that you knew of anyways.

It was difficult not to jump to conclusions and ruin the idea of him you had. It was difficult not to shut down. It was difficult to not think ‘how could you be so stupid’ and you were trying really really hard to not repeat past mistakes and project past relationships onto this one.

But it wasn’t even a relationship.

It wasn’t like he had talked to you at all. The first two days after he left for his case he had sent you numerous texts, telling you how sorry he was for having to leave early, he called you on the first night and stayed on the phone until you had fallen asleep. Everything was normal. There was nothing that set off any warning bells in your head.

That made you feel even worse.

You hadn’t spammed him with texts, nor calls. You hadn’t messaged him since the last text you sent was left on delivered. You wouldn’t beg for him to reply to you, you wouldn’t beg for an explanation on what you might’ve done wrong. You’d rather live with the lack of closure than further damage to your pride.

But then there was a part of you that wondered if maybe something happened to him, a big part of you worried that something happened to him — actually. You tried to ignore the lingering dwindle of anxiety in your stomach as you carried on with your day to day life. You tried so hard to ignore it.

But two weeks was a long time to ignore an aching gut feeling, one that kept you up at night and never seemed to go away.

Could you have called Spencer? Yes. You could’ve. But did you want to risk the call being ignored and every lingering doubt in your mind being proven correct and then be embarrassed about it? God no.

You were a shame spiral when you instead texted Penelope, who had given you her number when she saw you and Spencer at the grocery store, the last time you had seen him. She begged you to reach out when she got back so you two could arrange to hang out.

You weren’t even sure if they were back. Normally you would know that by Spencer coming over to your house at some ridiculous time and delving into your arms like it was the only place he had ever been able to call home, but he didn’t come over this time.

It was a simple text, ‘Hey Penelope, how are you? I haven’t heard from Spencer in a while so i just wanted to make sure he was okay’

It was good enough. You didn’t want to explain how you just wanted to make sure he was alive so you didn’t feel guilty for hating him. You didn’t exactly want to hate somebody who was dead. Yet a twisted part of you hoped that something had happened to him, because at least then he wasn’t just ignoring you.

What you weren’t expecting was your phone to light up with an incoming call from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You answered it, partly scared that she was calling because texting you to tell you that Spencer was dead seemed insensitive.

“Hello?” You answered. The place in your bed warm from the weight of your body as you shuffled slightly. It wasn’t exactly late, but it was past evening times. You heard mumbling and shuffling on the other side of the phone, before a happy voice.

“Hello my sweet angel!” Penelope greeted you, even in your doubtful mood the warm greeting from the sweet women made a smile line your lips. “I got your message — I’m a little confused. He is fine, he just left work” She answered.

Okay. Not dead.

“Oh” It passed through your lips because now you were just overwhelming confused. “Uh- How long have you guys been back?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer you would receive. You were hoping she would tell you they had only just gotten back, and that the case had been so busy that nobody had time to text anybody.

“A little over a week.” She answered. That made your chest tighten, a lot. Almost painfully. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to give the situation the satisfaction of your tears. You didn’t want to give Spencer any more power over you.

“Right. Okay. Thanks.” It came out shakier than you intended it to be and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You took pride in your ability to not care about things like this, you didn’t get emotionally involved because of this reason. Your mind was overwhelmed with an abundance of doubts and self depreciation. Embarrassment. You were so embarrassedz

“Did Spencer not tell you? He has been stroppy all week. We thought maybe he had messed up and you were mad at him.” The words came out as a playful joke, but you found it humourless. Because although you weren’t mad at him, you were now.

You wondered if you even had a right to be mad. Clearly he wasn’t dead, so he was just ignoring you. You hated how much that thought made your heart hurt an overwhelming amount. You hated how you had now let someone in enough for their absence to have an effect on you.

“He.. No. He hasn’t told me” You mumbled out, your voice representing how distant your mind was from this conversation. A million different thoughts and each one as bad as the last. You didn’t want to tell his co-worker and one of his friends that he had just up and ghosted you, you didn’t think it was fair, but you could basically hear the confusion and concern lacing her voice. “He hasn’t talked to me at all in over a week..”

“What?” Her response came out hard and fast, tone laced with clear shock and confusion. “Thats- I mean it was a rough case but.. not.. that rough — Maybe he is just overwhelmed? Have you tried calling him? He can get distracted easily.” She rambled, trying just as hard as you were to find a valid explanation for his sudden disappearance.

But you both knew Spencer. Or you thought you did. You knew enough to know about his memory. He didn’t just forget. Or maybe he did. Were you forgettable for him? Were you something so minority important that it slipped through the tight grasp of his memory. Oh that wasn’t a fun thought.

“No- uhm.. I’m not going to call him.. If he wants to talk to me he would.” You muttered. You wanted to believe that, you wanted to not care as much as you were making it out to seem you didn’t. You wanted to feel casually about it. About him.

You really regretted kissing him two months ago.

You wished you could be the type of person who believed that was no point dwelling, the type of person who would be grateful it happened rather than sad it was over — but you just weren’t. You didn’t think you were capable of getting over someone unless you hated them with every fibre of your being. Unless they hurt you to the point of no forgiveness. You couldn’t be glad it happened — not when it ended like this.

It always ended like this, you knew that from the start.

“Im so sorry. I have no idea whats going on with him!” She apologised in his behalf and it was almost funny to you. How come a girl you met once seemed to have more remorse than the guy you had (stupidly) falling in love with.

You shook your head, but she couldn’t see you. “Don’t apologise. Its fine. Its not a big deal really. We weren’t much of anything anyways.” Maybe the words came out fast enough for you to believe them, maybe they were to try and convince yourself that it was true — that it was how you felt.

It seemed it was how he felt.

“Oh sweetheart” Penelope synthesised. “How about this — We can have a massive movie night at mine sometime over the weekend and if you haven’t heard from him by then, then we can talk about how bad his eyesight is and the amount of sugar he puts in his coffee” She mumbled.

You let out a laugh, you wished that his bad eyesight and way too much sugar was the worst you could say about him right now. Your opinions on the boy seemed a lot stronger. Although it made your heart ache that it was his friend apologising and making you feel better.

“I’d like that.” You said, pulling your knees closer to your chest as your curled in on yourself in your bed. You hated how cold and empty it felt without his presence by your side. Even with the same glow of your fairy lights, the room was lit with the same warmth when it was just you.

You were mad. If you could only use one emotion to describe how you felt it would be mad. Embarrassment, disappointment, hurt — they’d all be thrown out the window. You were just so mad.

At him, for making you believe that maybe things would be different, for letting you get close to him, allowing you to trust him, open up to him. You were mad at him for giving and taking like it was some sort of game. You were mad at his lack of communication. You were mad at how he once looked at you like you held so much value only to leave as if you were worthless.

But you were more mad at yourself. You had made it a rule not to date. You had a life, a good happy life before. You busied yourself with work and going to the library to read and get a moment of peace beneath the shelves of books, you enjoyed getting your coffee’s from the small cafe on the corner in the morning, and dancing with your small group of friends at the club on the weekends, and then Spencer came along and now all those things you enjoyed so much seemed dimmer without knowing you’d see him at the end of the day.

You were frustrated because you knew better than to let someone get close to you. You knew how codependent you became on the existence of another by your side. You knew this. You knew all of this. You knew you were cursed, unloveable if you really wanted to hurt your own feelings. You knew this.

Yet you let yourself get sucked into his sweet words and empty promises, his soft touch and warm embrace. You let yourself believe that things might be different this time.

And god were you mad about that.

But most of all, you were mad about the fact that despite all of this. All of the doubt and anger swirling through your veins and leaving every harsh breath that existed your lips, you didn’t hate him. You were mad at him — so mad, but there wasn’t a single part of you that would ever say you hated Spencer Reid.

Not optionally. If it was up to you, you would go back in time and you wouldn’t have let him get close enough for the line to be between love and hate.

You worried, still. About if he was okay, what he was doing. You hated that. You hated that he had made you soft.

You hated that you let him make you soft.

You hated that you still wanted him to reach out to you, apologise and say he had just been so busy, or say he just needed time after the case. You hated that if he showed up on your door step right now you’d probably let him in without a word — whereas if this was prior to six months ago you would’ve slammed the door in his face and told him to get fucked.

Love didn’t come easy for you. But loving Spencer was the easiest thing you have ever done. Hating him was near impossible.