#if you didn't know what to look for you'd miss it

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[strwberri-milk]

heyyy, could i request lads men forgetting readers birthday or anniversary? hurt comfort pls 🥹

You understand that Zayne's job is incredibly important and you would never hold it against him for forgetting these dates but you also know that you're still going to feel hurt no matter how much you rationalise it. You woke up that morning, knowing that today should have been a special day, that he remembered to book it off months in advance and the two of you would be together.

When you see him getting ready for work you feel your heart drop, watching silently as he puts together his lunch and grabs his things. He doesn't notice you're up, thinking that you're still asleep and you take that opportunity to run back into bed and feign sleep again. You'd feel awful if you let Zayne go to work worrying about missing something this important so you decide it'd be kinder to just let him go to work in peace.

It's not until he looks at his schedule after a complicated surgery right from the moment he got into work that he realises what day it is today. He feels awful about it, immediately trying to figure out what surgeries he could offload onto the others so he can try and get home to you as soon as possible. Thankfully, all the other staff are emphatic about his situation, assisting him in getting home as soon as he can.

Thankfully, he's usually prepared in advance when it comes to gifts so he doesn't have to buy you anything last minute. He does make it a point to go and grab you a bouquet as well as some little treats/snacks of all your favourite things. When he comes home he finds you curled up in bed, trying to cheer yourself up. He hates how he made you feel and silently slides in behind you, holding you tightly as he whispers that he's sorry for forgetting about you. He promises that he'll make it up to you another night when the two of you are free, promising an evening at a restaurant you love while he currently placates you with the food and flowers he brought.

Xavier was so exhausted that he accidentally slept through the plans that the two of you made. You didn't even know it happened until you reappeared from the bedroom, watching him sleep peacefully on the bed. You can't bring yourself to wake him, sighing as you move to tuck him in.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, sitting up with a jolt as he realises that he missed your date. He rushes to bed only to find you dead asleep, dried tear tracks on your face. The sight breaks his heart, and he immediately starts making plans to try and fix his mistake.

When you come home one evening you're a little panicked because you can't see anything. You reach around blindly, trying to find a light switch to turn on some light in the pitch black darkness. confused when you realise you can't move the switch. You're about to call for Xavier when he makes his presence known beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder and guiding you to the living room. You're expecting to run into your coffee table but you're confused when you don't, kneeling on the ground as he counts down after covering your eyes.

You hear the click of a button and he uncovers your eyes, showing you the room illuminated by seemingly hundreds of little stars. You look around in surprise by the assortment of fairy lights and stars, a little surprised as you realise you're also sat in front of a meal comprised of your favourite takeout.

He gives you a heartfelt apology, promising that he didn't do it on purpose and he's felt awful about it the entire time. He promises that he'll clean all of this up after the two of you are finished. He doesn't want you to take on any of the stress about this at all, pampering you in extra gifts as an additional apology.

Rafayel is amazing whenever it comes to remembering important dates. His life revolves around you so that's why you find it so odd that the day comes and goes with absolutely no fanfare. It's so out of character that you literally gaslight yourself into thinking that you had the dates mixed up, mentioning it to him offhandedly how it's so weird that you thought yesterday was your anniversary but maybe it actually wasn't. Your birthday is an entirely different scenario though - you just tell him that it's okay if he's too busy to do anything and hopefully you can do something next year.

Rafayel is devastated, internally falling to his knees and sobbing while externally all you see is him humming thoughtfully. Internally he's trying to figure out what the hell happened for him to have dropped the ball. He's so panicking, pulling out his phone to book reservations at the fanciest restaurant he can think of and paying an exorbitant amount of money to do so. He also has so many gifts for you that at this point, he could just pull from a pile he has hidden in his home, telling you that you can have this for now because the main event is coming at your dinner reservation.

It doesn't take you long for you to realise that he actually kinda did fuck up and totally forgot about it when you hear him talking to Thomas about how he can't take on any projects at all because he's busy trying to make sure you don't hate him for forgetting a major event. You end up asking him about it right then and there, basically confronting him about why he forgot. He promises you it wasn't intentional and that he just had so much fun preparing for the even that he fully forgot to actually carry through with his plans.

He ends up making it up to you in bed. You mope and pout and bury yourself underneath the luxurious sheets and refuses to let him in. He basically just lays on top of you, burying his face into your neck and begging for forgiveness. You refuse to give it to him that easily, deciding to make him mope and pout more. He holds you tightly, continuing to whisper sweet nothings as he tells you he'll make it up to you by giving you his credit card. You jokingly tell him that's more than enough before getting serious and telling him how upset you are. He swears it won't happen again and to his credit, it never does.

Sylus couldn't get out of a previous commitment, mentally noting that it was a special day and aiming to follow through with absolutely no problem. Unfortunately, his meeting dragged and by the time it finished he had even more things to do which left you standing in his bedroom, dressed extravagantly for a missed reservation.

You cry to yourself quietly in the room as you get yourself undressed for the evening. It doesn't really hit you until you're laying in bed in your pajamas, staring up at the ceiling as you tell yourself that he didn't mean to do it on purpose.

He comes in as you're crying, listening to your soft sniffles. When you go quiet in hopes of attempting to convince him you weren't just sobbing your eyes out he feels even worse, quickly putting two and two together. He realises what he just missed, looking back at his phone and seeing the reservation cancellation.

He immediately scoops you up in his arms. You try to resist him at first but falter when your body settles into his familiar warmth. He coos at you, whispering apologies into your ear. You want to tell him too little too late but you also know that he never would want to see you crying like this, especially not because of him.

He holds you all night, telling you that you can ask him for anything and he'll make it happen for you. He already does but the guilt of this weighs on him so heavily that he knows that no matter what stands in his way, he won't let it stop him from giving you everything that you want. He also makes sure that it doesn't happen again, wanting you to feel like you could always trust him. If he lost your trust on top of that he'd never forgive himself, telling you that you're everything to him.

[scriobh-an-iontas]

The dream comes after a particularly bad day. Your children seem to be celebrating, or mourning, Aslan. It's a name you've heard them say, but you don't know who or what this Aslan is. Only that today is "his day". You want to hold them, to tell them that it's alright. You want them to fight like they did, to laugh and love like they did, like they did when the world made sense, and the sky didn't burn from war. You want to howl, to scream, to beg your children who are not children to be your children again. All these, and more, but you cannot. Something has taken this from them, from you, and it wasn't the war, no matter how much you tell yourself it was.

They whisper to each other on this day, and look at you like they've only just noticed you, really noticed you, for the first time since they got back from the country. You excuse yourself, unsure as to why you need to excuse yourself from your children in your own home, but you do, and you go to your bed, and you dream.

You dream of a vast garden, one full of trees with the ripest fruits, fruits you've never seen, but that you somehow know.

"Eat, Helen Pevensie, and be restored," says a deep voice.

You look up, and before you is a lion. Not a tame lion, though. Never a tame lion.

You know you should smell the sweetness of the fruit, but at that moment, you can only smell rot.

"I will not eat. You cannot give me a fruit and expect me to forget what you have stolen from me, child thief," you say. You don't know why you say it. That doesn't make it less true.

The lion ...

The lion diminishes, then looks away.

"They came of their own accord. Even if I had not called them here, if they had come under their own power, they would not have changed in their course, to come, and to stay. Their return was the only mercy I could offer," the lion says, as if that could change what he did.

"But you didn't return them!" you cry, months of sorrow bursting forward and striking the lion like a charger's lance. "You stripped them of who they were and who they had become and sent what was left to me! You broke them into pieces and sent those shards back after you had used them up, and call it a mercy? Jesus protect me from your cruelty!"

The lion winces, then speaks. "Will you walk with me?" the lion asks. "I wish to show you what they were called to protect."

You want to say no, but you think of your children, those strangers in your home, then steel yourself and walk towards, then next to, the lion.

You and the lion walk deeper into the garden, until you reach the ledge of a cliff. You know that it's high above the clouds, or it would be, on any other day. Today, though, the sight is clear.

Below is a beautiful country. Everything you could ever imagine to be a perfect land is here, you know it in your heart. The stories you told your children, when they were still your children, are alive here. Thriving. Happy. You know that if you went into that country, you'd see dryads, talking animals, tree-folk, magic.

"This place is not my country, not truly, but it is dear to me. It was trapped under the power of a terrible witch, until your children came, your sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. They destroyed the power of the witch, and freed it, and ruled it, ruled it well. They spoke of you, Helen Pevensie. They missed you."

You turn to face the lion. His eyes are wet with tears, as are yours.

"I am so sorry. If there had been another way, I would have taken it. There were none. So eat, Helen Pevensie, and be restored."

You take a final look at the land below, knowing somehow that you will never see it again, and go back into the garden. The lion follows you, saying nothing. You go from tree to tree, not sure what you are looking for, until suddenly you do. It looks a bit like an apple tree, and a bit like what toffee might look like if it was a fruit. Yet, in this garden, in this place, it is also moreso. It smells of home, and of here.

You take the fruit.

You eat it.

Each bite brings with it a memory of your children, as they were before they left, and as they are now, and of memories of them in this place. Not perfect visions, but living pictures, perhaps.

When you finish, you turn back to the lion.

"You aren't done with them yet, are you?" you say. It isn't a question, but neither is it an accusation.

"No," says the lion, his great shaggy mane tossing as he shakes his head. "But I will not again keep them away to myself, that I promise you. I will not say that they will return unchanged, but they will return in life and spirit as they left," says the lion.

You don't say thank you. That would be too much, and it would be a lie. The lion has taken so much already. This is the least he could do. But you nod, and you understand.

When you wake up, you feel refreshed, and restored.

When you walk down the stairs from your bedroom into the room your children are in, you feel, for a moment, as if you are their mother again.

You sit with them. You smile at your daughters, and at your sons. Then you speak.

"So. Tell me about Aslan."

They smile back at you, and they begin to chatter.

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

[sirxlla]

Sorry - Halsey (Batboys)

------------------------------------------------

Dick: "and never really understood, the way you laid your eyes on me in ways that no one ever could."

To everyone, Dick was always put together. He was a rock, never broken, never sad or angry, just perfect. It was so far from the truth. He felt lonely, angry, and depressed.

This time of year was so taxing on Dick, he had started having nightmares about his parents and that night of the fall. Usually, this time of year, he breezed through it without so many nightmares, but this year was hell. He saw the fall over and over, and his blame for himself came back with a vengeance.

"No. No! No- No- Nononon! No!" Dick woke up with a start, sweat pooled in every crevice having dampened his shirt and pillow. Of course, he woke you up as well, and you went into comfort mode, rubbing his back.

"Hey...I'm right here if you need anything." You said with a soft whispering tone so as not to spike his heart rate more than it already was.

"What if it's my fault? What if it all is? What if everyone's gonna get hurt because of me?" Dick placed his head on your chest and started sobbing as you rubbed circles onto his back.

"Honey, as long as I've known you, I've known that as long as you draw breath, you'll help as many as you can...You'd give someone the shirt off your back and the shoes you were wearing just because they asked. You're an amazing person, and the world is so much better because you're in it. I don't want you to think any differently about it." You rubbed his back as his tears made the silk of your pajama shirt stick to your chest.

"I'm sorry." He wiped his eyes and sniffled. "I shouldn't be crying, everyone sees me like-"

"Hey, I don't give a shit how everyone sees you, and I would never think less of you 'cause you're brave enough to show me how you're feeling. Okay?" You look into those cerulean eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

"I am so proud of you and no one here would ever be disappointed in you, Honey." You hug him as he nuzzles into your chest and calms down a bit until he falls asleep, you rub his back until you fall asleep with him. His drool is now the only thing dampening your sleep shirt.

Jason: "I've missed your calls for months, it seems, I don't realize how mean I can be."

You had been calling him over and over, and he would read it; you could see he did. He was just ignoring it. He had disappeared into what felt like thin air. Had you done something wrong or was he in one of those moods of his where he thinks he's not good enough for anyone?

He's sitting alone in some hotel room in Central City. Jason left everyone alone; he needed some time to sort himself out. He knew that rule about how you have to love yourself to love anyone else, and right now, he couldn't stand the sight of himself. You didn't deserve his bullshit, you didn't deserve his demons that are drowning him alive.

You have sent his messages daily since he disappeared into the blue.

7:36 A.M. Jan 14th - "Everyone loves you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

3:59 P.M. Jan 16th - "I miss you bunches." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

2:12 A.M. Jan 17th - "Just stay safe for me? I'd be in pieces if anything happened to you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

8:36 A.M. Jan 19th - "Sorry forgot to text yesterday, I've been so tired, but I still miss you every moment you aren't here." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

5:26 P.M. Jan 20th - "Dinners always ready for whenever you come home. I promise." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

1:41 A.M. Jan 22nd - "Tokyo misses you, he meows by the door constantly. Please come home, our family misses you." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

10:38 A.M. Jan 23rd - "Jase, please. I can't sleep well without you. I don't know what's going on; please explain." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

11:37 P.M. Jan 24th - "Jase, Please come home. I'm sorry for whatever I did." ~Read by JT❤️‍🔥

He read the texts. What you did? You did nothing. He realized how stupid and selfish he was being, such an asshole. His fingers typed before he could fully decide what he wanted to do.

"What did you do? Babygirl, you did nothing wrong. I'm coming home, I'm sorry I've just been so stupid about everything recently. I've been worried I'm not enough but I realize I can spend forever getting closer to my idea of perfect for you until you kick me out or my heart stops beating. I'm sorry and I'll be home soon."

You had cried yourself to sleep that night, and you were so exhausted you hadn't seen the text. Tokyo started meowing, and it woke you; you checked the clock, and it was 3:53. You had only been asleep for a few hours.

"Tokyo, go to bed. He's not here." You cry into your pillow, your face is swollen, and your eyes still red from crying earlier.

"I am, Babygirl. I'm so sorry." Jason saw your face and how sad you were; his heart felt heavy in his chest, and he was angry at himself for hurting you so deeply. You didn't know what to do, so you stared at him as he crawled over to you and hugged you. It had been a hard week without him and him hugging you is what finally broke you. You sobbed into his chest, holding onto him tightly.

"Don't you ever do that again, You Asshole!" You sobbed angrily, hugging him tightly as you breathed in the smell of smoke that lingered on his skin.

"I promise, I never will. God, I'm so sorry. I'll spend forever apologizing for this. I'm so fuckin sorry." Jason heard the sadness in your voice and held you tighter til you both fell asleep.

Bruce: "Sorry I could be so blind, Didn't mean to leave you and all of the things that we had behind."

Being Batman and trying to be a billionaire on top of it just really didn't give him the time to be in a relationship. You knew this, and you tried your hardest to make sure that he never felt bad about it, but it doesn't mean that it didn't feel like shit every single time you wanted to do something with him or you had something planned and he had to change it.

Not only does this include dates and evenings and dinner but it was also sometimes that he was just so exhausted he would fall asleep in the middle of whatever you had planned anyways, it sucks.

You love him so deeply, but he's so busy all the time, and you're trying to give it the benefit of the doubt and just hope that, at some point, you'll come first to a degree. You held out for so long, but after a while, you just couldn't do it; you left.

Alfred noticed the note on the counter; if it had been Bruce, he wouldn't have noticed it for weeks.

"Master Wayne, I believe this is for you." Alfred hands the note to Bruce as Bruce is just about to go back out as Batman.

"Dear Bruce, My Love,

This has to be one of the hardest decisions I've ever made but I know it's the only option that I have where I don't feel guilty for taking up your time."

He started reading and then noticed the marks where tears had damped the paper as he continued to read.

"I would never ask you to put me over the people in Gotham. I know why you do what you do,, but it doesn't make it any less hard when I barely see you, and then when I do, you're covered in bruises, and you can barely get out of bed. I can't do this anymore. I love you, and it pains me so much to do this. I can't live a life where I feel so alone; it feels like I'm dating a ghost. I know that in my heart of hearts, I cannot handle this, and I know a child definitely can't. I'm pregnant and I'd rather do this alone than make you feel guilty for not being there or make myself feel guilty for staying. I love you, and I don't want to try to change you; I know what you do, what you do. I'm sorry, My Love.

Sincerely & Yours Always"

He finished reading the letter, and his heart dropped. You were pregnant? When? When did that happen? He should have known.

"I want you to see about Mr. Fox taking over my role in Wayne Enterprises. I'll still own the company the same, but I'll have more time." He asks Alfred; Bruce knows that this is something he should have done a long time ago. He's been missing you anyway, but now he is about to miss out on you for the rest of his life, and he is about to miss out on his kid.

Not even a few days pass before Bruce finds you, he's drenched in rain in civilian clothes. The rain just enhances the smell of his cologne. He looks even more tired than he usually does. It's clear he hasn't slept.

"I will do anything you ask just please don't leave me." He asks you as you open your door and in his hands held your favorite flowers. Bruce's eyes glanced down at your belly as you pulled him in to get him out of the rain, you were showing. He cursed himself in his mind. How could he even have remotely not noticed, considering how far along you are?

You grabbed towels from your hotel bathroom and began to dry him off.

"I let Lucius take over my job at Wayne Enterprises, so I'll have more time for you,, and I promise I will have more time for you, and I'll have more time for a little one. God, can't believe I didn't notice all the signs were there. How's everything been going?" He asks as his hands hover over your belly, asking for silent permission, which you allow when your hands guide him to your tiny bump.

"It's been okay; sleeping's been a bit rough, this mattress is like concrete, and the morning sickness is a bitch, but overall, I'm okay." You told him as his hands moved themselves under your shirt to feel his hands closer to the growing baby.

"Are you planning on coming home? I- I know we usually sleep during most of the day but I- I really wanna be here through this." You could hear the vulnerability and his voice something that rarely ever slipped to that degree.

"I- Yeah... I really didn't want to do this alone either just left because I didn't want you to feel bad."

"Sweetheart, I will never make you feel like you have to do anything alone again if I can help it." His hands still gently rubbing your belly.

"Well, we're definitely not going to make it home tonight, not in this rain, and I still have the room for the night."

He nodded, and the both of you laid down to watch whatever was on TV; it had been a long time since he had felt anything this domestic or 'normal.' It was so nice and calming, something he now had time for so much more with you.

Tim: "But I still know your birthday and your mother's favorite song."

Breaking up was never something either of you wanted to do, but you wanted to go to school in the U.K. that has always been a dream of yours ever since you were a kid, and Tim would never be the type of person to hold you back from your dreams even if it meant he'd get hurt.

At the start, the two of you texted all the time, and you'd show him things all the time, but slowly, he stopped responding, so you stopped texting. He couldn't bear the thought of not being with you, but he had responsibilities here in Gotham; he couldn't just go.

"Hey, Numb Nuts. I asked you a question." Jason prodded as he finally got Tim's attention after what felt like forever.

"Huh?" Tim was confused; he was so in his head that he didn't even remotely hear what Jason said.

"I said, 'Why are you so doom and gloomy?' You're moping around the place like your puppy died." Jason had noticed how low Tim had been for the last month; he thought it might have to do with you, but you left six months ago.

"You not gettin' any more texts from your girlfriend?" Jason asked a bit cheeky but it was clear that concern laced the tonality of his voice.

"No, I stopped responding. I don't wanna make her feel like she has to respond to me." Tim mumbled.

"I know you're not stupid, so why are you acting like a dumbass?" Jason stated with annoyance in his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're being a dumbass. You know she loves you and you're ignoring her? Why the hell didn't you go with her anyway?"

"I have responsibilities here-"

"No, fuck your responsibilities; there are plenty of people who can take over for whatever you're doing. You get your ass on a flight and go to her before I beat your ass." Jason stated as he grabbed the laptop out of Tim's hands and started booking a flight.

"Go pack, you're leaving in an hour."

"Who's leaving in an hour?" Dick stretched as he walked in.

"Tim is, he's going to see his girlfriend."

"No, I'm not. Guys, I have things to-"

"Yes, you are." Jason and Dick both cut him off. Dick rushed Tim to his room and started helping Tim pack before he could even begin to process what was going on.

Jason texted you, "I have a surprise, go to the airport at 10:30. Don'tt be late."

In your mind you thought 'Aww, Jason's so sweet. My best friend's gonna meet me here.' So you responded.

"Will do. 🫡"

Several hours passed and you arrived at the airport looking around at baggage claim for Jason. He was a bitch bitch, hard to miss. You kept looking around when you spotted Tim and your heart lept in your chest, running over to him and hugging him deeply.

"Oh my god!" You squealed to his suprise. He thought you mightve moved on but hpw you were acting made it clear you hadnt. His arms squeezed you. After the hug you grabbed one of his rolling bags and helped him to your car.

"Oh my god, it took me so long to learn to drive on the other side of the road..." you started rambling and telling him all about your trips and every little detail as you drove him to your flat. His eyes followed every detail on your face, he wasnt even listening just in awe of you. Tim realized just how much he missed you, he broke out of his trance as you lead him inside.

"I bought everybody stuff, I have a box for Jason and Damian and Bruce. I am so exvited for everyone to get their stuff, its gonna be so fun..." Each box had different stuff that interested each of them, you had a box for Tim too. You still remembered everything even though its been six months. His heart swelled at how sweet you are and he just kissed you right there which interrupted your new ramblings. You shoulders fell and your hands found Tim's face as per normal abd the both of you realized home isn't a place, its a person.

Damian: "And so it seems I broke your heart, My ignorance has struck again"

He had another gala to go to for some charity event; besides, this was something his father demanded he do. It wasn't like he had a choice, did he? He's been Wayne Enterprises' new CEO since his father retired; he's been sucked up in events, meetings, and planning.

Although he had a lot on his plate it was no excuse for how distant he was being. Damian knows the date or at least he should. If this relationship is as important to him as it is to you he'll know the date. Your anniversary and this wasn't one of those little petty short ones or some shit. This was five years.

You decorated the apartment, lit candles, wrapped presents, decorated the bed with rose petals, put on music, and even made dinner and his favorite dessert. You were so excited and so proud of yourself, it took you all day while he was at work to do so.

The only reason you weren't at work is that you took it off for this reason. You thought he'd take a day off, too, but it's okay. He didn't cause you had time to surprise him. You paid for everything yourself, you didn't wanna constantly have to borrow money from him, and it was always good to have a rainy day fund.

The front door alarm chirps, letting you know he's home, and your smile grows larger. He remembered! Oh, you were so excited but that excitement faded when he just went to the bedroom? Confusion filled your features. 'What?' You followed him to the room.

Damian was quickly stripping out of his work suit into an expensive one he uses when he has to go to galas.

"Hello?" You asked all dolled up for him.

"Have you seen my blue silk tie anywhere?" He asked, not even remotely noticing the petals or how you looked.

"No, I haven't seen your fuckin tie." Snapping at him but he just rolled his eyes and didn't notice. He quickly got dressed, sprayed himself with cologne, and made his way out the door again.

You felt your heart get crushed in your chest, he might as well have carved it out and stomped all over it. 'He can remember the date for the gala but not our anniversary?' You sat there and sobbed, it's been the same date every year for the last five years. You ate dinner alone, cleaned everything up, blew out the candles, and raked the petals half hazardly into the trash.

A few candles got accidentally left out, having forgotten to drain the bathtub, several petals still lined the floor, and the presents were still left on the table.

You showered yourself and washed off the makeup that felt like it took you hours to get right, the red lipstick staining the washcloth and your lips. You quickly changed and crawled into bed, alone.

Damian showed up at the apartment hours later, he knew you'd be asleep. The galas ran long so why the hell would you need to stay up and wait for him?

He was starving; the galas didn't serve much food. The only thing you could get in abundance at a gala was alcohol, and Damian never wanted to dull his senses like that, so he didn't drink. He went to the fridge, noticing his favorite food; he put some on a plate and heated it in the microwave, making sure to stop it before it beeped so he wouldn't wake you.

He moved over to the dining table that was covered in presents, and as soon as he saw them, his heart fell into his ass. 'The 18th? Shit! I- Fuck. It's our anniversary, God Damn it.' Damian was tempted to run into the room and apologize but what would it do? It would just wake you up and that would be even more rude on top of him being a jackass already.

He ate his food and cleaned up the rest of the apartment. He needed to figure out an apology quickly. 'How could I be so stupid? Wait, that cake in the fridge said 'Marry me?' She- she wants to marry me. God, I feel awful.'

He didn't know what to do to fix this, he could make some sorta big grand gesture, but those always felt like trying to gander sympathy points, and he wasn't gonna do that shit. Damian was gonna be a man and admit how shitty of a person he is. He would just make you breakfast and apologize, take all the blame 'as one should when they're a jackass'

You came out of the room the next day, your hair messy, face puffy, eyes red, lips still stained fromnthe red lipstick, in your robe with your headphones on. You noticed he wasn't beside you and figured he pulled an all-nighter, and you went to wash your face and get coffee.

You pull out the contacts you forgot to take out last night, you rinse your eyes and throw the contacts out, putting your glasses on before going to get coffee.

As soon as your hand reaches for the coffee pot, Damian's hands find your hips.

"Uh uh, you go park yourself right over there. I'm a jackass so I'm doing anything and everything for you today. Okay?"

"Damian, it's just a date on a calendar." You tried to just brush it off.

"It's not just a date on a calendar, it's everything, and I'm so sorry. I'm not going to sit here and make excuses, I forgot because I was so wrapped up in work. I disregarded the only thing that matters in the entire world to me because I got wrapped up in stupid shit that doesn't even remotely matter as much as you do." Gently grabbing your face and looking into your eyes, the redness and puffiness had gone down but lord did his heart skip a beat to see you in those glasses.

"Now, we can't do it over necessarily, but I'm cutting my work hours. They will be designated for five hours, and then the other three or four will be crime-fighting or whatever else I have going on, and the other fourteen will always be yours. Obviously, you'll have more on vacation days or sick days or days; I just don't want to go to work. I promise you my time whenever you need it even if it is during work hours. I would be content with losing everything else but you, okay?" He continued as he kept gazing into your eyes, and you could see the level of anger he had for himself and how sympathetic he was to help you; you could see the pain in his chest that originated from him hurting you.

"Okay." You sniffled and a few tears fell down your face.

"Also, I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you want to marry me, I'll do it right now; we can get engaged and plan the most beautiful wedding ever. Whatever you want, it's yours, and if I can't get it, I will find a way." He said as he wiped your tears from your cheeks. You pulled him into a hug and nodded; he wasn't off the hook; hell, you'd let him off the hook before he ever let himself off of it. That was one thing you loved about him when he made a promise; he stuck to it, and there was no one more disappointed in him right now than himself.

Masterlist

[fenya-scribbles]

U

♥--------♥--------♥

Pairing: idol!Bangchan x fem!Reader

Other Characters: none

Summary: You break up with Chan, but he won't let you go that easily.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort?

Content warnings: there's a break up happening, lots of heartache and crying

Word Count: 985

Screenshots: 3

A/N: *my life, my love is you* U is just a great song and it hurts me so good every time I listen to it. Also, this went through several rewrites, but I also didn't really proofread it lol. I almost cried writing it though because hurting Chan even in fiction is just cruel and it hurt my soul.

♥--------♥--------♥

"Well, I'm sorry my passion is such an inconvenience for you!", Chan yelled. He was fuming, restlessly pacing through his living room. "That's not what I was saying and you know it", you retorted from where you were sitting on the couch. You were angry as well, but more than that you were tired. This was the third time this week the two of you blew up at each other. Once again you'd felt neglected, once again he'd gotten lost in his work, swamped with appointments, too busy being an idol.

And it was thoroughly exhausting to fight with him. Because you loved him with all your heart, you did not want to fight. But you also didn't want to feel left on the sidelines, like an afterthought. Things had been going downhill for a few months now. You wondered how you'd ever managed to balance the relationship and his profession. He'd asked you to quit your job and just follow him wherever he went. But that was not fair, you thought, that you had to give up your own dreams to be with him.

"This is not working, Chan." It hurt you in your soul to speak the words, but you felt yourself reaching a breaking point. "We are not working anymore." He stopped in his tracks and stared at you. "You don't mean that", he said, all his rage suddenly deflated. "No, I do, actually. Look at us, we're a mess. All we do lately is fight." "So what, you want to break up? Throw us away?" You felt the tears coming, felt your heart clenching painfully in your chest. "I don't know, Chan. All I know is that I can't do this anymore."

Chan took a seat on the couch beside you and reached for your hands, but you pulled away. "Please don't make this harder than it already is", you whispered as tears started running down your cheeks. "Baby...", was all he said as tears also filled his eyes. "I'm sorry, Chan. We tried...I tried....but I'm exhausted." "Don't do this, babe", he begged, reaching for your hands again. You didn't pull away this time, letting him grip you tightly. "I love you", he said. "I love you too", you said, "but it's not enough anymore."

***

The following weeks were torture. You went into survival mode, functioning at work and falling apart at home. You barely slept, and if you did, you were crying yourself to sleep. After three days of total isolation, your friends started to worry and showed up unannounced at your place. They kept doing that, making sure you ate and took at least somewhat care of yourself. They tried to cheer you up, tried you distract you, but all you thought about was Chan.

Everyday you asked yourself if you did the right thing. Everyday you reminded yourself of why you left, why you had to break it off. Everyday your thumb hovered at least once over the "unblock" button in his contact on your phone. Everyday you felt less like yourself, less like a person, less alive. It was as if breaking up exhausted you far more than fighting with Chan ever had.

Three weeks went by like that. Three weeks of you walking around like a zombie. Three weeks of missing Chan with every fibre of your being, missing his hugs, his voice, his love. And then you couldn't take it anymore, your thumb finally hitting that damned "unblock" button.

You were swamped by messages from him.

Your heart lurched in your chest with every message you read. You had to go over it several times, rereading every line, eyes blurry with tears. And by the end you finally realised what he was saying, so you got up and checked your mailbox. There was indeed an envelope in there, your name written on it in Chan's handwriting with a heart next to it.

Hastily, you went to the living room, opening the envelope on the way. There was a USB Stick inside and a small note.

Y/N, I miss you so much. I made this song for you to show you that I'm willing to fight for this relationship. Please give me the chance to fix this. I love you, Chan.

You started at the note, thumb brushing over the handwritten words. A tear landed on in next to his name. You missed him so much. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, then you grabbed your laptop from the couch table and inserted the USB Stick. On it was one singular audio file: For Y/N

With shaking hands you opened it and the song started. You fill up my mind 24/7... It was beautiful, hauntingly so, the lyrics piercing your heart. When it was done, it just started over again, and you let it. You played it on a loop, again and again, your quiet tears turning into full on sobs, as you fell apart on your couch.

It took you a while to process the song. To process Chan's messages and the lyrics and the fact that he had dropped a USB stick in your mailbox just a mere hour ago, because it was the only way he thought to get the song to you. He'd been outside your door, so close to you yet so far away still.

When your sobs finally died down and your mind stopped racing at light speed, you knew what to do. You picked up your phone, Chan's contact still open, and pressed the call button. He picked up immediately.

"Y/N?", he said hesitantly. You stayed quiet for a moment, words stuck in your throat. "Please say something", Chan said, voice shaky. "I listened to the song", you managed. There was another pause. "Can you come over?", you asked. You could hear him let out a breath of relief. "Open the door."

♥--------♥--------♥

Masterlist

[finding-flight]

This is honestly so bizarre, because while the Hero's Journey definitely has had an outsized influence on western literature, you don't even have to look very hard to find scads of examples where it doesn't apply, because the Hero's Journey is actually pretty narrowly defined.

There are definitions that get extremely nitty-gritty (including things like the hero refusing the call to adventure and then getting help to kick things off) but generally, the definition goes like this: Hero leaves home for the unfamiliar. Hero adapts to the unfamiliar. Hero goes back home. The End. ("Leaving" and "home" are often metaphorical, and "adapting" always means some sort of character development, although not always the kind we tend to think of--see Greek heroes who never work on their flaws because Greek heroes didn't have those, but who nonetheless become wiser.)

You know what immediately doesn't fit? Basically any serialized detective novel. Character development just doesn't happen to Sherlock Holmes or Nancy Drew, other than a sort of drift that has more to do with the maturation of the author than anything that happens to the character. There is absolutely no adaptation happening, and arguably, perhaps once you get past the first book, there is no leaving happening because they're "at home" solving mysteries.

Scratch the surface a bit more and you start seeing other holes. Frodo returns home a changed man, yes, but then he leaves again. A major theme of LoTR is that you can't ever really return home, because you've changed so much that where you started is not home anymore. Classic Hero's Journey generally has the characters wrestling with returning to normal life, but then they end up at peace. Frodo can't do that and has to leave again.

Then you get books where the narrative just kind of happens to the main character. Lizzy Bennett undergoes character development, but it's, like. Concerning one dude. Her overall worldview is never changed. She only leaves home (this being the metaphorical home of her identity as a Bennett sister, left for the new identity as a Darcy) at the very end, and of course never goes back to it (note here a very obvious bias towards male heroes; in any classic book ending in a marriage, the woman's world irrevocably changes, while the man's usually merely improves). You can probably wrangle Pride and Prejudice into an interpretation that fits the Hero's Journey, but I'd argue you'd be missing the point.

And don't even get me started on slice-of-life.

alright, I’m annoyed with the class that I’m taking. it’s about writing novels, and I thought it would have cool stuff about balancing your narrative and developing themes etc, but instead she spent the first class talking about how every book fits into the Hero’s Journey (the monomyth template). and I was somewhat of a contrarian, and said “can you give us examples of books that don’t fit into this template?” and she said “no. because all books fit.”

but I dunno man, I just finished reading this Korean book where the plot is just the character having a string of hookups and reflecting on them without changing in any way. I don’t know if it’s possible to contort that into the Hero’s Journey.

[enwoso]

Can you do one where Tiny gets tackled at football badly and Less has to stop Leah fighting a 4 year old and the ref 🤣

NOT ON MY WATCH | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

grumpy masterlist

saturday mornings were always a whirlwind of activity in the russo household. the crisp air, the smell of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of cheering were the hallmark of football day.

as always on a saturday morning, alessia alongside leah for swapping their football boots for warm coats and gloves as they stood on the sidelines of a football pitch clutching warm drinks as they watched you play in your mini five aside game.

you'd always inherit your mummy's love for the game, you basically eat, sleep and breath football. granted it took a little more persuasion with the help of your little furry friend, benny the hamster, that leah pulled through with much to alessia dislike as to how much she could now hear that stupid hamster wheel through the night.

but nevertheless you were running up and down the pitch in your red and white predator boots with a determined expression painted across your face as you chased the ball with fierce concentration.

alessia beamed with pride every time you got involved in the action it much better to see you actually play than to pick the daisy's out the ground...

whereas leah, as always the competitive one was practically coaching you from the sidelines.

"come on tiny! push up! get to the ball!" leah shouted her voice louder than most of the parents as she flapped her arms around to show her intentions.

alessia nudged leah who was standing next to her, grinning, "relax babe, she's four. she's there to have fun. she's not playing for the lionesses" alessia teased.

"yet! she's not playing for them yet. but the little one has got talent! i'm just giving her a helping hand to help her reach her full potential." leah shot back with a smirk as she went back to yelling and flapping her arms around like a bird.

the game was fast paced and you were holding your own until, out of nowhere one the kids on the opposing team went in hard for the ball.

it wasn't a cleaner challenge by all means, it was a full on clumsy tackle. you went flying, landing in a heap on the grass.

alessia felt her heart stop as her throat went dry for a minute. you sat up, your bottom lip trembling as you looked around in confusion before bursting into tears.

alessia immediately moved to step forward but she wasn't quick enough. leah was already on the field pointing her finger as her face was filled with fury.

"leah!" alessia hissed, chasing after her.

leah stormed over to the child responsible, who was all of four years old and looked slightly alarmed as leah folded her arms across her chest.

"oi! what was that? you can't just go tackling people like that! she's tiny!" leah said her voice filled with authority as you were being helping back to your feet by your teammates.

the little boy in question who was now definitely regretting his decision blinked up at leah, wide eyed. "it- it was an accident" he squeaked.

"an accident? that didn't look like an accident to me!" leah shot back as she pointed dramatically to you as you were being comforted by your coach.

the referee, a teenager who looked like he'd much rather be anywhere else and most definitely just there for the few extra bucks it gave him, hurried over. "um excuse me, miss, you can't just-"

"and you!" leah spun on her heel, the little boy rushing off as leah cut the ref off mid sentence. "are you even watchin' the game? that was a clear foul! your supposed to protect the players you know!"

the referee's face flushed. "it's just a kids game miss. calm down-"

"calm down?! my girlfriend's daughter has just been basically flattened! how am i supposed to-"

"leah williamson!!" alessia interrupted, grabbing leah by the arm and pulling her back. "the kids four. your yelling at a four year old and the ref too. seriously?"

leah blinked, suddenly aware of the scene she was causing. parents on the sidelines were staring, some trying their best not to laugh, others looking concerned. alessia dragging leah off the pitch as she stopped back at their place on the sidelines looking the girl in the eye.

"babe, i know your upset. but lovies fine. she's tough, just like her mum." alessia said her voice calming but also firm. "let it go before you end up banned from mini-football and end up being slagged off in the parents groupchat."

leah hesitated, glancing back at the little boy who looked like he may start crying at any moment and then to the referee who was trying to organise the game so the restart could happen as he was probably wishing he had never agreed to the job.

finally leah sighed and nodded as her shoulders relaxed. "fine," she muttered, allowing alessia to hand her back her cup of coffee she's palaces down on the grass in a hurry. "but if he tackles her again, i'm not holding back."

"easy tiger. now we're gonna watch the rest of the game quietly, okay?" alessia said seriously trying her best to hide her grin.

leah held her hands up in surrender, "i'll be good. promise"

meanwhile you were back in your feet, your tears long gone as you wiped your face with the back to your hands and rejoined the game with the same determined energy you'd had before. alessia pointing you out to leah.

"see? she's already back out there. she's fine."

leah sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "yeah she's a little fighter. guess she doesn't need me losing my head for her."

"exactly, save yourself the trouble of the names you'd be called in the parents groupchat.." alessia trailed off a teasing smirk as leah shot her an intrigued look.

"like what?"

alessia waved it off as leah tried to get an answer from her but alessia stayed tight lipped, "besides, your scary enough to keep an entire under 5s team in line."

leah laughed, wrapping an arm around alessia's waist as they watched you chase the ball down the field, "scary? nah, just protective."

alessia smiled as she leant into her girlfriend, "she's lucky to have you."

"and you," leah replied, kissing alessia's temple.

the game ended with your team celebrating the their victory. you running over to them with your signature grin as you held up your little trophy, as well as a participation medal as your mummy scooped you up in her arms showering you with kisses as leah ruffled your hair.

"oh lovie you were so good out there, me and le are so proud of you." alessia grinned as she placed you back on the ground as you immediately went to take your shin pads out your socks.

"our little superstar, you were brilliant!" leah smiled ruffling your hair once again as you passed your shin pads to your mummy to hold along with your trophy.

"thanks!" you giggled, then looking up to leah your expression changing to a more serious look, "why were you shouting at the boy and the ref?"

alessia raised an eyebrow a teasing grin on her lips as she waited for leah to explain herself. leah scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. "uh, just.. makin' sure they know not to mess with you.."

you titled your head, "oh okay. but i can do that you know!"

alessia smile changed to a proud one as she nudged leah as a small giggled left her lips as she reached down to kiss your cheek, "see, that's my girl!"

[koralcove]

since it's established that caleb cooks for you (us/mc), imagine after reuniting with one another that he's noticed how thin you've gotten compared to when he last saw you. with the ongoing investigation about the aether core and grieving for your (supposedly) dead family, you haven't had time to take care of yourself well enough. you're mostly driven on energy via takeouts, eating out, and snacking for when you remember to take a break. and when he runs his thumb softly on your cheek, he can practically feel the comparison of how you've lost the chub on your face that he used to affectionately (and annoyingly, on your part) squeeze and pinch on. but it's nothing that he can't fix with spoiling you with his cooking. so every day, he makes it a mission to make time to cook your favourite meals and dishes that he knows you've missed since he'd been gone, and within a week, he can already see the plumpness of your cheeks taking shape to what he used to know. when you start to complain that your shorts seem a bit tight on you and you opt to borrow his shirts instead of wearing your usual ones, he takes pride in seeing the changes of your body becoming a bit pudgy in other places.

tonight, you're probably on your third round of eating. you'd told yourself yesterday that you'd hold back from eating too much ever since you noticed the slight fullness of your belly. you've noticed that your face has gotten a tad rounder, and you're aghast at just how much you've been consuming for only a week. you would've objected as caleb keeps asking if you want another round, but you didn't realise how much you've missed the taste of his cooking. the taste of home. and there's a part of you that's clutching onto the flavours as if it's the last meal you'll ever get from him. a part of you still finds it unbelievable that he's really here with you, right in the flesh, laughing and mussing on your hair. the familiar touch seems like a slap on your face that you find a prickling sensation at the back of your nose whenever the reality sets that... he's here. and he's home. you're home. you are both home.

noticing the faraway look on your eyes and the distracted movement of your utensils on your food, caleb pipes up. "you look like you're thinking too hard. had second thoughts about my cooking?"

you blink, snapping out of your glum musings and shaking your head. "no. just... thinking why you're feeding me so much. every day feels like a feast with how much you're cooking. i might have to buy new clothes, y'know."

caleb only smiles at your words, jabbing your forehead lightly with his finger. "well, it looks like you forgot to take care of yourself while i was gone. can't do anything without me, huh?"

you huff at the light teasing, taking a bite out of your food and looking down on your plate. your eyes might betray you. and you don't think you can handle the soft look he's giving you.

"but don't worry. your caleb is back, and i'm here to take care of my pip squeak. and what better way to start than to get some meat back on you." he grins.

you groan. "i'm going to eat less now, because at this point, you're the one who's taking me out of shape, and i'm blaming you if i fall behind with everyone when i suddenly become out of breath."

caleb only chuckles at you. "i think i'm just giving you more shape, if you ask me. and that wouldn't be so bad. that means i get to have more of you!" he squeezes your side affectionately, and you shy away from how ticklish you are, along with a small sense of insecurity bleeding through you. caleb doesn't miss your small scrunch of discomfort.

"you know i like you no matter what shape or form, right?" he pulls his chair closer to yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "and... there is a law about that, y'know?"

your brow furrows in confusion. "there is?"

he nods, a cheeky smile quirking on his lips. "yeah. "the greater the mass, the greater the force of attraction". so in other words, the more i plump you up, my attraction to you will keep increasing."

your mouth hangs at his words, and you playfully jab his side. "gē! you..."

he merely laughs, pinching on your cheek for extra measure. his glee is infectious that you can't help but break into a smile as well.

ah, caleb thinks, there's my girl.

can't get over that caleb is just basically packed into the law of gravitation. smartass would probably use that line to his advantage.

[nottivagos]

COME ON IN! COME ON IN! Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Thursday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

Gangster!Danny runs the streets. Every club and bar in your little town he owns. Too bad you're such a pretty thing that comes into his club often. Your father has always told you to avoid Daniel, but after you start a secret affair with him, you can't stay away.

an: first of all, anyone who knows the lyric that inspired this, can i ask for your hand in marriage? like, actually. second of all, gangster au has my heart. like i'm a whore for gangster au so much. oh- the camera was rolling?! shit, that was off script...

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

You shouldn't be here. It wasn't right.

Daniel Ricciardo was trouble. Your father had specifically told you that when you'd started to go to his clubs more often. Don't get involved with the Ricciardo Gang, he said. They're trouble waiting to happen, he said.

But there was something alluring that kept you coming back. Daniel was different. He wasn't like the rest of the lackeys in his gang. He was purer, you could see those cracks whenever you spoke to him on an intimate level, the desire to get out of his gang lifestyle evident in his speech.

Danny liked running the clubs. He enjoyed the razzle dazzle and the clientele that came along with it. The man was a charmer, an intoxicatingly gorgeous charmer, but anyone could tell you that. But what he didn't enjoy was the men with guns and the bounties on people's heads. The protection rackets he'd had to have put in place as a result of owning nearly all the casinos in town, the enemies that came along with being this gangster he didn't want to be.

You'd caught his eye the first time you'd stepped inside one of the lavish nightclubs near your little home on a side street. Danny had already acknowledged how out of place you looked with the aristocrats, the way you lurked timidly in the shadows, the innocence in your eye when you choked on harsh liquor you'd never been exposed to. It made his heart flutter.

Quick glances became small talk. Small talk became long nights. It was dreamy. Your heart warmed with his teases, smooth flirts, loving words; your senses soon came accustomed to the booze he sold and supplied cheaply, your flushed cheeks radiating whenever he got you a little too tipsy.

You were cute to Danny and that's all that mattered.

“What would your daddy do if he saw you here, huh?” His words were teasing, they had a bite to them. A smirk moulded onto his lips as his brown doe eyes stayed locked onto your's. “You know I'm trouble, don'tcha princess?”

The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly. It was intoxicating. It was wrong. It was thrilling. A cocktail of emotions swam around in your gut, swirling into anticipation as you batted your eyelashes, twirling some strays of your hair around your finger ever so slowly.

“Maybe you are trouble,” you giggled in response, biting back your bottom lip before letting it pop back. “But you're the one who offered to buy me this drink,” you added with a knowing look, a cheeky smile forming on your soft lips, “so I think that makes us even.”

A raised eyebrow followed. “Oh, is that so?” He questioned, leaning in a little further, his face merely inches away from your own. It made your breath hitch, the intensity of the distance between you both becoming suffocating. The nagging voice in your head telling you it was wrong made it seem oh so right. “Little miss has got some spunk on her, I see.”

Your eyes lit up, giddiness fluttering around your whole body. The electricity of the intimacy and playful banter set your body alight, the moment making your heart pound like an overpowering drum. This whole ordeal was wrong, you couldn't go against your father, but it felt right. Daniel Ricciardo was trouble, but he'd soon be your trouble.

“I try,” you responded as dryly as you could, lips toying with the straw in your cheap gin and tonic as you took small sips every so often. “You don't scare me as much as my daddy wants you to, Danny,” you highlighted with a raised eyebrow before sipping again, the words rolling off of your tongue like thick honey. Smooth and sweet.

“I know I don't, darling,” he quickly answered with an amused scoff. “If I scared you, then we wouldn't be here,” his voice lowered whilst his face edged forward even more, nose now nudging your own slightly as his elbows came to rest on the wooden bar comfortably.

“So you're not even scared of what my daddy would think?” the question so innocently asked by yourself made him chuckle in response. You really were stupid.

“Are you scared of what your daddy would think?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered with a soft look, “but I suppose that doesn't matter.”

“How come?” Danny questioned with more of a little smile that had formed on his lips.

“I'm good at keeping secrets,” your hot breath brushed against his face in that moment whilst you murmured.

“So if I kissed you right now you'd be able to keep it a secret, huh?” Danny challenged with a knowing look, a hungry glint shining in his eye.

At that moment you should've been afraid. You should've ran, the glimmer in his eye meant trouble. A good type of trouble nonetheless. A trouble so enticing that any girl wanted it when entranced in Danny's charm.

“Depends if you're a good kisser or not,” you teased, batting your eyelashes as his breathing became less controlled.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

You responded with a nod, cheeks burning. The sweet look of your face was all Danny needed to see the green light. A large hand cupped your burning face, his nose coming down to nuzzle against your's, lips hovering dangerously before he planted a gentle kiss on your mouth.

A soft moan was suppressed as your hand followed to cup his stubble, melting into his lips as they burnt into you. The moment was raw, so passionately beautiful as your lips slowly parted from each other ever so slowly. A sheepish smile plastered on your face as he smirked at you, his brown eyes fixed on yours.

“Was that more to your liking, princess?” He chuckled, grabbing his tumbler of whiskey, before downing the remnants of amber liquid in one gulp, allowing the alcohol to burn his throat.

You were too much in a flustered daze to answer his question. Mind fuzzy from the intimacy of the gentle peck, you blinked in disbelief for a few moments, the bustle of the nightclub becoming a blur.

He snorted slightly upon seeing your reaction. “I'll take that as a yes, pretty girl,” he mumbled his voice as thick as tar, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear ever so tenderly with a smile you'd never forget in a million years. <3

like gangster!danny? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so you can be added to my notebook! - notti <3

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Lazarus Rising | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( :0 ?? )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, allusion to a sexual assault, allusion to torture, mentions of kidnapping/missing persons

Word Count: 3831

A/N: Things are gettin' crazy. As a special treat, a chapter from (mostly) Dean's perspective!!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean’s first thought had been of you. When he woke up in that shoddily-fashioned coffin, he’d thought of you. Before he met you, he would’ve grimaced at how “pussy-whipped” he was. And now, the thought didn’t even cross his mind. 

His mind had become overrun in his walk to the gas station down the road from where he’d crawled out of the earth with thoughts of you, Sam, Bobby, and everything he’d endured in Hell. Dean was surprised to find the station abandoned— along with everything else in the town— but that was just another thing to add to the long list of “weird” things going on. 

Trying to clear his head, he splashed some cold water on his face. When he shook his hands dry, he remembered the wounds he’d sustained from the Hellhounds’ attack. He quickly brought his shirt up to inspect his stomach but was surprised to see no gashes.

And then, he noticed what appeared to be a burn mark poking out from under his sleeve. Dean pulled it up to reveal a bright red handprint. As if the situation couldn’t get any stranger, loud static filled the room and the windows shattered inward. 

Startled and scratched by the shards of glass, Dean got up from his curled-up position on the ground. 

****

Bobby was shocked by Dean’s return, to say the least. “But... how did you bust out?”

Dean shook his head. “I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box—” 

Suddenly, Bobby splashed water in Dean’s face. The man’s eyes closed to avoid the splash, and he spit out the water that invaded his mouth. “I'm not a demon either, you know.”

Bobby shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. Can't be too careful.” He handed a towel to the younger man and headed further into his home. “But... that don't make a lick of sense.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir.”

Bobby turned back to Dean. “Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit—” 

“I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject,” Dean nodded. “What do you remember?” 

Of course, Dean lied. “Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then, I come to six feet under, and that was it. Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not—” 

Bobby understood what Dean was getting at. “Oh, he's alive. As far as I know.”

“Good— wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?” The pitch in Dean’s voice rose in concern. 

“I haven't talked to him for months,” Bobby explained. 

Dean scoffed. “You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?” He began to approach Bobby angrily. 

“He was dead set on it,” the older man argued. 

“Bobby, you should've been looking after him!”

“I tried!” Bobby responded. “For both of ‘em! These last months haven't been exactly easy, y’know. We had to bury you.” 

Dean looked at the floor. “Why did you bury me, anyway?” 

“I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But (Y/N) and Sam wouldn’t stand for it,” Bobby answered. 

“Oh, god, (Y/N),” Dean breathed out. “Is she—?”

Bobby shook his head. “Haven’t heard from her, either.”

“Jesus.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Both of ‘em just… up and left?”

The older man nodded solemnly. “Last I heard from either of ‘em, Sam said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said.” He sighed. “He was quiet. Real quiet. And then, he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found.”

“And (Y/N)?” Dean asked, anxiety clawing at his throat. 

“You weren’t in the ground ten minutes before she was gone; long before Sam. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell us where she was going. She’s gone dark, too.”

“Oh, dammit,” Dean sighed, shaking his head. 

“What?” Bobby questioned, on the edge of his seat. 

“Oh, one of ‘em got me home, alright. But whatever they did, it’s bad mojo.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Dean explained what happened to Bobby and showed him the handprint on his arm. “It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out.” 

It was the first time Dean had seen Bobby truly rattled. “But why?”

The older Winchester brother searched for the words, shrugging, “To hold up their end of the bargain.”

“You think one of ‘em made a deal,” Bobby said as more of a statement than a question. 

“It’s what I would’ve done.”

****

Dean managed to track Sam down to a motel in Pontiac. The two brothers went through the same tearful reunion Dean had with Bobby, and the woman Sam was accompanied by stood awkwardly in the corner. She soon left, seeming dejected, leaving the Winchesters alone with Bobby.

 Dean glared at his younger brother, arms crossed. “So, tell me, what'd it cost?”

Sam grinned. “The girl? I don't pay, Dean.”

Dean remained stern. “That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?”

“You think I made a deal?” Sam scoffed.

Bobby chimed in harshly, “That's exactly what we think.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Dean’s gaze hardened further. “Don't lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!”

The older brother advanced on Sam. “So, what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this.”

Sam stood to face his brother. “Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, alright?”

“There’s no other way this could’ve gone down,” Dean roared, grabbing Sam’s shirt. “Now tell the truth!”

Sam broke out of Dean’s grip. “I tried everything! That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, alright? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright? Dean, I'm sorry.”

Noticing Sam was growing quite emotional, Dean finally let off. “It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you.”

“Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that Sam's soul remains intact,” Bobby said, “but it does raise a sticky question.”

“If he didn't pull me out, then what did?” A horrible realization crossed Dean’s mind. “It must’ve been (Y/N). Dammit! Where is she?!” He turned and ran a hand through his hair.

Dean looked to Bobby frantically, and Bobby shook his head. “Sorry, kid. I wish I knew where to tell ya to start lookin’. Nobody’s seen her.”

“So… So she could be dead for all we know,” Dean worried. 

Sam nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

****

But you weren’t dead, you were very much alive; physically, anyway. Dean figured that out a few days later when he was watching the news. 

“Authorities are searching for this woman—” a grainy image of you looking over your shoulder wearing a wig, a hood, and jeans appeared on screen, and he supposed it’d been caught on CCTV— “whose identity is unknown, but she has been potentially connected to at least seven missing persons cases over the past four months; all of well-respected, family-oriented men across multiple state lines. She is considered to be armed and dangerous, and if you have any information, please call—”

Dean’s mind ran a mile a minute. His anxiety raced at the idea that you may be possessed or possibly even turned while he was in Hell.

“Sammy!” Dean called from Bobby’s couch.

Sam appeared moments later and looked at the television in front of his brother. “Holy crap,” he breathed out. 

“Yeah, man, this is bad,” Dean stood and ran a hand through his hair while he paced. “Whatever’s wearin’ her face is gettin’ her in a ton of trouble. We gotta—”

“Wait, Dean, slow down,” Sam said. “She has the tattoo. There’s nothing gettin’ in her.”

“Yeah, well, maybe something scratched it off,” Dean continued. “Maybe a shapeshifter got a hold of her—”

“Or maybe that’s just (Y/N),” Bobby stated, causing the two boys to turn to him. 

“What?” they asked in unison. 

“A demon wouldn’t be concerned about hiding (Y/N)’s identity, and a shifter wouldn’t keep one meat suit for that long,” Bobby continued. 

“And her eyes didn’t flash,” Sam murmured. 

A heavy silence fell over the room before Bobby gathered the courage to speak again. “Boys, I think that’s just her.”

****

In between flashes of the terror he went through in Hell and trying to help Bobby and Sam discover what had pulled him out, Dean was trying not to go insane in search of you. But he was furious with himself. He couldn’t find you anywhere. It was almost like you were actively avoiding him. 

All three men couldn’t believe what you were accused of, or that you were even capable of doing so. None of them knew you to be that way. Then again, they hadn’t truly known you in months; a lot had changed. 

Bobby stared at the news for hours looking for any new sightings of you. He put his contacts on your trail, and Sam spent his free time scrolling through Facebook pages dedicated to finding the woman responsible for potentially taking the lives of the seven men. And Dean? Dean was such a mess of anxiety and wrath that he couldn’t focus on helping to find you properly for too long.

Bobby said there was a psychic Dean should see about his resurrection. Although hesitant to do anything aside from look for you, he agreed when Bobby suggested she could help find you, too.

Sam could tell Dean was incredibly thankful to be back with his car, his brother, and their surrogate father, but there was something missing: you. Even he was puzzled as to where you could be. 

“There's still one thing that's bothering me,” Dean broke the silence as he cruised behind Bobby down a darkened road. 

“Aside from (Y/N)?” Sam tried to jest. 

Dean just glared in response. “The night that I bit it— or, got bit— how’d you two make it out? I thought Lilith was gonna kill you.” Sam nodded. “Well, she tried. She couldn't.”

That caught Dean off-guard. “What do you mean, she couldn't?”

“She fired this, like, burning light at us,” Sam explained, “I put (Y/N) behind me, and Lilith just couldn’t leave a scratch. Like we were immune or something.”

“Immune?” Dean repeated. 

“Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me,” the brunet snorted. “She left pretty fast after that.”

“Huh.” Dean considered his next words carefully. “What about Ruby, where is she?”

Of course, Sam lied. “Dead, for now.” He lied again when his older brother asked about his use of his psychic powers. Sam sat brooding for a few more minutes before he dared to break the silence again. “What are we gonna do about (Y/N), man.”

Dean sighed. 

Sam didn’t give him a chance to answer before he continued. “I mean, she definitely doesn’t wanna be found. By anybody.” “Yeah, I know that, man,” Dean replied. 

“Shouldn’t she have been in Pontiac?” Sam suggested. “I mean, even if she wasn’t hunting Lilith, any other demon would’ve led her to it.”

Dean huffed. “I don’t know, Sammy. But maybe not if she’s off ganking random dudes.”

“All I’m sayin’ is,” Sam began, slowing his mind down, “it’s weird.”

“What isn’t weird right now, Sam?” Dean snorted. “I don’t think she’s purposefully hiding from us.”

“No, no,” Sam shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. Maybe, she just… quit hunting. Maybe she’s off doin’ hits for someone, or something.”

“What, like a bounty hunter?” Dean scoffed.

Sam nodded hesitantly. 

The older brother refused to believe that. “No. That’s not her.”

“How do you even know you know her, Dean?” Sam argued. “She’s clearly not who any of us thought she was.”

“Well, whatever she’s doing, she must’ve had a good reason for it!” Dean roared, clearly not enjoying what Sam was insinuating. 

Sam shook his head. “Dean, I talked to the victims’ families. None of them were monsters. None of them were possessed. She took out regular people.”

“How do you know for sure? You seen the bodies? ‘Cause nobody else has, either,” the older brother grunted. “She’s not like that, Sam.” Sam shrank in his seat, irritated. 

“Now, drop it,” Dean grumbled. 

****

Before you, Dean would’ve gone right for Pamela. She was attractive, alluring, and had a good sense of humor with a hint of eccentrism. Now, that didn’t even cross his mind. All he wanted her for was finding out what happened to you. 

“So, you hear anything?” Bobby asked. 

“Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why,” the psychic responded. “I think we’ll do a séance next. See if we can see who did the deed.”

“Any word on (Y/N)?” Dean asked. 

Pamela seemed hesitant to respond. 

“Tell me,” Dean pleaded. 

The psychic sighed. “She knows you’re alive. Someone saw her rummaging around that town you popped up in.”

Dean was completely floored. All he could do was breathe out, “What?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Pamela said softly.

“Anything else?” Sam prompted. 

The psychic nodded, turning her focus to him. “She’s workin’ with something. Nobody really knows what. Or, at least, they won’t say.”

“Why not?” Bobby questioned. 

“It’s like they’re scared of it,” Pamela responded. “And her.”

Dean found his words again. “Has she— Has she killed anybody?” 

“One person,” the woman answered. “But it seems she did the world a bit of a favor.”

“What makes you say that?” he continued to press. He was both relieved and confused by the fact that you hadn’t killed most of the people you were suspected of killing. 

“The guy had a bit of a track record,” Pamela replied, seeming uncomfortable. “With women, specifically.”

Dean understood at that moment. “The guard,” he said.

Sam turned to his brother. 

“From Deacon’s case. The guy that—” Dean couldn’t push the words out. 

Sam and Bobby both nodded in grave understanding. 

“What about the other seven, though?” Bobby questioned. “What’d she do with them?” 

“Again, the spirits were too scared to say,” she said, shaking her head. 

Dean’s stomach had remained upset throughout this conversation, but he knew he had to figure out what had pulled him out of Hell, too. “So, séance?” he gulped, trying to steel his courage. 

Bobby was clearly still shaken from the last bit of the conversation. “You're not gonna... summon the damn thing here.”

Pamela shook her head. “No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.”

Dean tried his best to smirk. “I’m game.”

****

The day was by no means going as anyone had planned. Pamela had summoned the creature, and her eyes consequently were burned out of their sockets. 

Sam and Dean stopped for some lunch while Bobby went with Pamela to the hospital. She was stable and out of the intensive care unit, thankfully, but the boys felt bad for the poor woman. While Dean thought of possible places you could be or what you could be doing, Sam was busy trying to remember where he’d heard the name “Castiel” before: that was the name of the creature Pamela had given to them. 

“You look like you’re suckin’ on a lemon,” Dean commented, shaking his brother out of his thoughts. “What’s up?”

“I’ve heard of ‘Castiel’ before,” Sam explained. “I’m just tryin’ to figure out where.”

“Well, maybe with the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him; bring him right to us,” Dean suggested. 

Sam scoffed. “Absolutely not. Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?”

“You got a better idea?” Dean argued. 

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I followed some demons to town, right?” Sam responded. “So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something.”

The waitress reappeared with the two plates of pie Dean ordered and pulled up a chair to the end of the table. 

Dean looked at her, confused. “You angling for a tip?”

The waitress smirked. “I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us.” She blinked to reveal her inky black eyes. Several other demons revealed themselves and locked the brothers in the diner with them. 

The waitress blinked again. “Dean. To Hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?”

Dean smirked, tight-lipped. “That’s me.”

“So you get to just stroll out of the Pit, huh? Tell me, what makes you so special?”

Ever the cocky bastard, Dean hummed, “ I like to think it's because of my perky nipples. I don't know. Wasn't my doing; I don't know who pulled me out.”

The demon scoffed. “Right. You don’t. Lying's a sin, you know.”

“I'm not lying. But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo—” Dean trailed off, having read the name off her tag. 

She snarled, “Mind your tone with me, boy. I'll drag you back to Hell myself.”

Sam tried to rush her, but Dean held a hand up for him to stop. “No, you won’t,” Dean asserted. 

The waitress laughed. “No?”

“No. Because if you were, you would’ve done it already.” His eyes bore daggers into the demon. “Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose, and you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit, or, uh, Godzilla, or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out, and they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose.”

“I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs.”

Dean leaned forward, almost daring her to do so. With a wicked smirk, he tossed a mean right hook at her face. She took it— albeit, angrily— but did not retaliate. He threw a second one. WIth his voice barely above a whisper, he growled, “That's what I thought. Let's go, Sam.”

Dean dropped a ten dollar bill on the table, almost like an insult. “For the pie.”

****

Once again, the creature caused a ringing in Dean’s ears and glass to come crashing down around him. If anything, it was becoming more of an annoyance than feeling like an actual threat. Sam, however, was nowhere to be found. Although irritated with his brother for taking his car, Dean went with Bobby to summon Castiel. 

Dean wiped the blood from his face given to him by the creature. 

“How you doin', kid?” Bobby asked. 

“Well, my girlfriend’s at large, and there’s church bells ringin’ in my head. So, peachy,” Dean deadpanned. 

After a brief conversation with Sam where he told him a story that Dean wasn’t quite sure he believed, he helped Bobby set up the warehouse they’d gone to to summon Castiel. 

Every wall was covered in protection sigils and traps while Dean laid out every weapon imaginable on folding tables. 

“This is still a bad idea,” Bobby sighed. 

“Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?” Dean smirked while the older man nodded reluctantly. Bobby followed the instructions for the ritual, and all they could do after that was wait. 

Suddenly, a loud rattling shook the tin roof. Dean grabbed a knife and a shotgun while Bobby grabbed a crow bar. 

“Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind,” Dean suggested. 

The door burst open at that moment to reveal a beautiful man in a business suit and trenchcoat. 

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, but he did his best to maintain a brave face. “Who are you?” he demanded. 

Castiel’s eyes and smile were kind, contrary to what Dean assumed he would be. “I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. Thanks for that.” He plunged the demon knife into Castiel’s chest that had absolutely zero effect on him. 

Castiel looked down, unfazed, and removed the knife. Bobby tried to charge him but was promptly put to sleep. The older man crumpled to the floor in a heap.

“We need to talk, Dean. Alone,” Castiel stated, his voice deep and rumbling. 

Dean checked Bobby’s pulse, glaring up at Castiel. 

“Your friend is alive,” the creature insisted. 

“Who are you?”

“Castiel.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, what are you?”

“I’m an angel of the lord,” the man replied.

Dean’s heart dropped. “Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.”

“This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith,” Castiel responded. He caused lightning to flash and allowed his massive wings to unfurl.

Dean finally started to believe, but that only made him angrier. “Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes.”

“I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that,” Castiel explained. 

“You mean the gas station and the motel,” Dean realized. “Buddy, next time, lower the volume.”

“That was my mistake. Certain people— special people— can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong,” the angel admitted. 

“And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?”

Castiel looked down at himself. “This? This is... a vessel.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “You're possessing some poor bastard?”

“He's a devout man; he actually prayed for this.”

“Uh-huh. Y'know, it might've been easier to show up like this the first time instead of all the burning bush crap,” Dean scoffed. 

“Finding a human vessel durable enough to contain me; it's not easy,” the angel said. 

Dean smirked. “I have that same problem with women.”

Castiel’s expression remained unchanging. “Apparently, not anymore.” The hunter’s eyebrows furrowed again. “What do you mean?”

“I know about (Y/N), Dean,” Castiel explained.

“How?”

“I know everything about you,” he responded. “And I know everything about her.”

“What makes us so special?” Dean challenged. “Why would an angel rescue me from Hell? Why would you be so concerned with (Y/N)? Do you know where she is?”

“Good things do happen, Dean,” the angel insisted. 

Dean’s gaze remained hard despite his quieting voice. “Not in my experience.”

Castiel tilted his head. “What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?”

“Why'd you do it?” Dean questioned. 

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworldd

[agirlnamedzoya]

When You Hear My Name

Gojo Satoru x reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo was sealed in an unexpected turn of events in the Prison Realm on 31st October, 2018, and you, alongside what was left of the Jujutsu sorcerers you fought side by side with, spend days and nights finding him, until he finally made it out of there. What you didn't know, was that in order to win his freedom, he had to lose something. And unbeknownst to him, the price he had to pay was...the memories of you.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

These were the most unexpected and first ever words you heard from the mighty, famed special-grade Satoru Gojo who was to be your classmate, mere hours after you got introduced, with a smirk on his lips and his eyes twinkling behind his glasses as he watched you blush.

And since the day he unlocked the secret to flustering you, he would never let an opportunity slide by.

"Do you know? You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

These were the words you got to hear every single day. While you first found them to be some kind of teasing joke, your heart started to believe him and love him for this.

At any party, whenever you got all dressed up, or at work, your hair flying while your cheeks held the blood from fighting curses, or even at home, in your messy state, he always told you how beautiful you looked to him.

When you once drew him, he said, observing your work, "I used to think that's impossible, but you make me look even more dashing than I could be."

"That's because that's how I see you in my eyes. Absolutely perfect."

He smiled. "I can't even attempt to draw you. That's because you're so beautiful, I can't capture it completely."

You were a flaming red mess at this.

You imagined a life with him. One full of happiness, where he said the same line to you every morning. Coming from him, you'd never get tired of those words. Just like you'd never get tired of him.

Your dreams all shattered with the Shibuya incident. You were on your knees, tear-struck face watching all the city go up in flames, Yuji screaming Gojo's name, and then the Headquarters announcing him a conspirator.

He was sealed in the Prison Realm. And you had no purpose in life left for you if he isn't there anymore. You are going to bring him home, even if it's the last thing you'll do.

You were among the many sorcerers, watching as Yuji and Hana attempt to break the seal, and somewhere, far, Satoru Gojo is released.

You, wanting to believe the news of his release, knew you couldn't rest until you saw him.

And one day, your wish came true.

You felt a new life and soul breathed into you when you saw the familiar head of white hair walk by you. Once inside the building where Yuji and his comrades were taking residence, you run after him.

"Satoru!"

He turned back to see you, running towards him. He smiled.

"Satoru, I missed you so much!" you cry as you barge into him.

While his arms do embrace you, his next words shake your world.

"That's nice of you, but have we met before?"

You break apart, and you stare into his sincere, blue eyes. No joke.

"You don't...know me? Y/N L/N?"

He closes his eyes in wonder. "I'm sorry, but...I really have no clue. Though, I am charmed to meet you, Y/N."

He forgot you.

The Prison Realm took you away from him.

And even though you'll still love him anyways, you'll still make a new life, new memories with him, it broke you apart to see a man in whose story you didn't exist, but who was your entire story.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. "I must have been mistaken."

"No, no, I would like you to come and see me again." He grinned. "Because, I wanted to tell you, you're so beautiful, sweetheart."

And Satoru Gojo had no idea why the eyes of the girl in front of him brimmed with tears as her jaw dropped and she covered her face while her body shook with sobs. And what surprised him most was when she held his hands and repeated the same things.

"Keep telling me this all my life," you whisper into his hands, "because you're mine, you're mine, you're mine..."

You'll make him remember someday, that no matter what happens, you'll always be his beautiful sweetheart.

[purinfelix]

ᯓ crawling back to you ⋆.˚ - [ L.HS ]

summary: it's been almost two months since you've seen Heeseung, but now he's on your doorstep, drunk, desperate - and without his phone pairing: reader x exbf! heeseung || non-idol au, mentions of drinking and some unwanted touching, sfw mostly fluff/angst || w/c: 1.8k

a/n: ok this idea lowkey came to me so randomly AND ended up being way longer than i planned but i don't know what it is i love pathetic yearning men

You'd be lying if you said you were completely shocked. Even as you reached for the door handle after hearing a faint knock, a part of you already envisions him behind the door - maybe it's your intuition after countless late nights just like this, but a part of you deep down considers the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it might be hope.

"Heeseung," you breathe out once you see him, your tone of disappointment thinly veiled as a shock.

This is definitely the drunkest you've seen him, and judging from the way he's swaying side to side unsteadily and struggling to lift his head up to look at you - you'd say it's the drunkest he's been in a while.

He doesn't even greet you, just stumbles towards you, limp body crashing into yours sending you back a couple steps. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders, which are burning warm as he writhes under your touch, letting out a soft hum, that if you didn't know any better you might've taken as a sign of satisfaction.

"You drank too much," you huff, trying your best to maintain the air of annoyance you feel at him showing up, mostly because if you don't you know you'll be far too quick to let him in. "You should go home," you say to him.

He only lets out a faint whine in response, clearly not wanting to obey as he snakes an arm around your waist, burying his flushed face into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself slip, and for just a second your back arches, pushing yourself flush against him.

But you manage to catch yourself, pushing him away by the shoulders even as he resists you. Finally, as he lets out a breathy pant and flicks his hair away from his forehead, you get a glimpse of his face - and almost immediately you feel a strange pang in your heart as you do.

He looks almost exactly the same as the day you left him, large doe eyes staring into yours with his brows furrowed just enough to seem pleading, begging you not to make him leave. Only now his cheeks are far more flushed and underneath his eyes are dark rings - a sign that he hasn't been taking care of himself nearly as well as you'd hoped.

"I missed you," he says, and his voice is so tiny you barely recognise it. But the desperation in his tone and the way his bottom lip quivers as he speaks is far too familiar .

You can't turn him away, not now, not when he's here and drunk and looking at you like that.

"C'mon in," you sigh, guiding him gently with an arm around his waist as he naturally loops his around your shoulder, leaning his body weight against yours. It isn't easy but you manage to make your way to your living room, letting him lay down on your couch. His eyes are already half closed as he lies down, and you feel a slight relief at the thought that maybe this night won't be as difficult as you had initially believed.

"Give me your keys and phone, I'll look after them while you rest," you say, kneeling beside the couch so that you're level with his eyes.

They flutter back open for just long enough that you feel your cheeks heating up at the close eye contact, even more, once you notice a smile spreading across his face.

"You look even prettier than I remember," he hums to himself and you can't help but let out an indignant scoff to cover up how flustered you feel. He's drunk, he doesn't mean it you tell yourself as you move to search for his belongings to take care of. You pat down his jacket pocket and manage to track down his keys - though not without him squirming under your touch, letting out immature giggles. But his phone is nowhere to be found.

As if summoned by the sudden panic you feel at the thought of him losing his phone, your own phone lets out a chime from where you've left it on the coffee table. Weirdly enough when you pick it up you see it's a notification from Heeseung, or at least, his phone.

[ hello? ]

The thought of some stranger stealing his phone and running off with it worries you, and so you're quick to type back as you settle onto the floor next to the couch.

[ hi? ] [ hey! this is Jake, i'm Heeseungs friend, tho i'm not sure if we ever properly met ]

You let out a faint sigh of relief. The name sounds familiar enough to bring up memories of Heeseung mentioning the people in his classes - so you choose to believe him.

[ oh, right, were you out with him earlier? ] [ yeah, i'm guessing he already made it to your place ]

You furrow your brows as irritation suddenly washes over you, his friend knew he would come here and didn't stop him?

[ how do you know that? ] [ wait, did he not? ] [ no, he did, i'm just curious why you assumed it so quickly ] [ well he was talking about you all night, kept mentioning wanting to see you again so ... ] [ oh, right ] [ tho that's not much difference to what he's like every day ] [ ??? wdym ] [ he talks about you all the time ]

You pause, eyes wandering from your phone screen to the couch behind you which Heeseung's sprawled across, long limbs barely fitting. You can hear soft snores as he sleeps, and if you look for long enough you can see his chest rising and falling gently.

He talks about you all the time.

You don't know what shocks you more, the fact that he - the man who you broke up with, admittedly pretty coldly, almost a month ago, talks about you - someone who he should regard with bitterness and maybe even hatred, all the time.

The buzzing of your phone in your hand brings you back to the present.

[ hello? everything alright? ] [ yeah, yeah sorry he's alright he's just sleeping on my couch right now ] [ wow, thanks, i figured you'd just turn him away but i guess i can head back home knowing he's with you ] [ wait, you have his phone tho? ] [ yeah, he forgot it at the restaurant when he left for your place ] [ typical ] [ yep lol ]

You pause again, chewing your bottom lip as you consider whether to ask the question that's been plaguing your mind - but you figure you can't let an opportunity like this go without at least getting some answers and so without too much thought your fingers move swiftly to type it out.

[ has he been doing ok? ] [ it's hard to say, i mean, we think so but he's definitely been different ]

The painful pang in your heart strikes again, though this time it's closer to a sinking feeling. The thought of Heeseung not taking care of himself, being in pain or upset is one thing - but knowing that it's because of you hurts in a way you can't describe. Though, you're considerate enough not to let this show in your response.

[ i see ] [ don't beat yourself up over it tho, he'll be alright. I'll make sure he is ] [ thanks, i appreciate it ] [ anytime ] [ how come you didn't stop him from coming over? ] [ dude we tried, but he was too insistent ] [ seriously? ] [ you should've seen him, i thought he might start throwing punches if we didn't let him be ] [ and none of you thought to come with him? make sure he got here safe? i mean, he drank a lot right? ] [ i was going to, but he wouldn't let me - said something about wanting to go alone, and none of us deserving to see you ]

You pause again, and even though the thought of your ex boyfriend drunkenly fighting with his friends is a little funny, even to you - you can't help but feel confused about this entire situation. Why, out of all the people he knew, would Heeseung come to see you, at a time like this?

It's as if Jake is able to read your mind with his perfect timing and as your phone buzzes again you look down at it to see his message.

[ he must really feel safe with you ]

As soon as the message appears you find yourself unconsciously reading it over and over, as if it might change at any minute. Change into something that isn't so difficult to digest, something along the lines of "he wasn't thinking right" or "he was just desperate for a place to crash" - something that doesn't hurt so much because you know, deep down, that it's true, and you want it to be.

But no matter how many times you reread it, the words and the truth stay the same and even as you switch off your phone with trembling hands, it echoes in your mind.

He must really feel safe with you.

With a tired sigh, you slowly shift to get up and head to your own room, but somehow Heeseung's hand finds its way into yours - intertwining your fingers tightly in a way you wish didn't bring you so much comfort. He pulls on it, mumbling something that sounds like "don't go" in a tiny, pleading voice. You're unsure of whether he's actually awake or even knows what he's saying, but you still do as he says, sitting back down and keeping his hand in yours. With your other hand, you brush a couple stray strands of hair away from his forehead allowing you to get a better look at his face - which you're realising you've missed a lot more than you realised.

Maybe tomorrow when he wakes up, you'll get to properly talk about this, about what happened between you two. Or maybe he'll be too embarrassed and will play it all of as a big joke. Or maybe he'll be too ashamed to even talk to you, instead leaving without saying so much as a word.

The possibilities play out in your head one after another, but the only thing you can focus on is the fact that, at least for now, he's here, lying on your couch sleeping peacefully, and you are too, holding his hand. And at least for tonight, the two of you are together and everything is alright.

[rabidjackalope]

Please Don't Go ~ JJ Maybank

I'm so excited to write this because for the first time in months, I got the inspo from this nsfw audio on reddit so I'd heavily recommend listening to it (a good portion of the dialogue takes inspo from the audio)!!

summary - JJ takes you for a walk in the woods, you stop in a meadow where JJ tells you about his ex kie and he tells you want happens if you leave him SMUT/DUBCON NOT PROOF READ

dedicated to @starfxkrinc <3

The morning had started out truly peaceful, JJ had taking you on an early morning walk with him up by the abandoned church. Which was an out of character for JJ, considering he'd never once got up for his morning slash every afternoon shifts at the county club on time, but JJ had made the event urgent so you entertained him. You sluggishly followed behind him, noting how half the island was most likely asleep at this hour. The two of you approach a clear opening, a meadow filled with clovers and lone magonlia tree tucked in the corner. JJ lead you to the magnolia tree, sitting with back to the tree and pulling you to sit in his lap. As you get begin to lay your head on his chest, he asked you question.

"Do you remember Kie?" JJ asked. "Yeah, I remember her. Do you miss her or something? You answered sarcastically "No reason to get all jealous sweetheart." He bite back. "I was just thinking about how nice everything was in the start, but there was this one thing she couldn't do for me." JJ explained. "I asked her to just follow one simple rule, it was to never leave me. After everything with my dad, I just wanted one stable person in who would just stay." He continued. "You've never asked me about staying." You thought out loud, slowly raising your gaze to JJ. He smiled down at you and cupped your face in his hands. "I know, that's why I'm telling you now." He clarified. 'I asked her so many times to stay, she never did. Always one foot out the door to a Kook life and one foot in the Pouges, everyone said she'd leave because she was just in her "teenage rebellion" phases but I didn't care. I thought I was gonna marry her." JJ spoke earnestly. "Kie never promised to stay so I had to get rid of her." JJ admitted coldly.

"Of course this was all before I met you, your more loyal then she ever could have been." He said as he leaned in to kiss you. JJ kissed you with a deep passion you had never felt from him before, but something about the way JJ spoke about Kie sat wrong with you. You began to grow weary of his touch and pulled away from his kiss. "Why are you pulling away from him?' JJ questioned you, shocked by your actions. "Look at me and tell me what's wrong." He instructed you. You don't answer, staring at the grass beneath you. "I just said you were such a good, loyal girl. Yet you don't want to listen." JJ said with a chuckle. You keep your gaze low, terrified to look at him. JJ wrapped his large ring adorn hand around your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I told you to fucking look at me.' He shouted in your face. You attempted to pray his hand off your jaw but it was no use considering how much stronger JJ was. "I do not like repeating myself little girl, no tell me what's wrong?" He formally reminded you. "How did you get rid of Kie?" You ask with a weak voice. A smirk painted itself across JJ's face. "Are you sure you wanna know that?" He asked jokingly. "I'll tell you while I fuck you under this tree, then you'll never be able to leave." JJ knew once he told you what really happened to Kie you'd be bonded to him forever. Never leaving his side ever again.

"I do think that's a good idea JJ, maybe we should go home and talk about it." You tried suggesting. "I don't remember asking for your opinion sweetheart." He said with a pout. "You wanted to know what happened to Kie, you can't act like a fucking brat then expect not to get punished." JJ said as he shoved you to the ground pressing you face to the ground and hiking your ass in the air. Once in position he grabbed you by the ankles to a more shaded area of the tree, almost like he wanted you in a specific patch of grass. JJ began to take you pants and underwear off, slowly rubbing the fat off your ass. "You're always prettiest when you're on your knees." His compliment was followed by a hard smack on your ass, you whimper at the sting left behind. JJ lets out a laugh at your pain, he always took a disgusting pleasure in your pain. "You did this to yourself. Asking big girl questions then backing out last second." Each of his words were followed by a strike on the ass. "You need to commit, remember that you're here to stay." JJ stopped his assault on your ass and went back to rubbing it. "You can never leave me, then you'll be just like them. Just like dad and Kie." JJ muttered to himself, almost like a reminder as to why he was doing this in the first place.

JJ rose to his knees, undoing his jeans and pulling his boxers down. He took his cock into his hand, slowly rubbing himself as he lined himself up with your cunt. "You need to promise me you"ll never leave." JJ moaned as he began pushing himself into your wet cunt. He brushed the dirt and hair off of your face, give you both a clear view of one another. His hand slowly snaked down to your throat, choking you, and causing all your moans to be transformed into muffled groans. "You sound just like her, fuck baby." JJ whimpered, your plush velvet walls began squeezing JJ's cock like a vice. He began to grow more delirious and uncalculated as he fucked you, you always where he greatest weakness. You looked up at JJ with a dazed, confused look. Trying to understand what he meant. "You wanna know why I bought you here? Kie took me her when she told me she was leaving the pouges." JJ started to explain with at stranded voice. "She told me her parents was making her marry Rafe so that they could keep their restaurant. They signed to property over to Ward so they wouldn't lose it to the county." The recalling over the breakup caused JJ to pick up his pace, his thrusts now more rough and rushed. This new pace caused you to claw that dirt beneath you, trying to crawl away from JJ. However JJ caught onto this and pinned you down you the shoulders. "Like I was staying." He was angrily. "She told me we needed to end things, but I couldn't let her go after all I did for her. I begged her to run away with me to Yucatán, but she wanted to stay." JJ took a deep breath before continuing. "I saw red when she said no, next thing I knew I was onto of her choking her. I choked her so hard I felt her last breath." JJ started chucking as he recalled the event. "I buried her right where that lovely cheeks is pressed to right now." He revealed as he moved his hand from your right shoulder to your cheek, pressing it formally in the dirt. "You lying JJ, you wouldn't kill Kie." You said, less out of disbelief and more out of the fact you couldn't except JJ was a killer. "I can dig the bitch up if you want." He proposed. "She can watch us too." JJ playfully said as he bend over to kiss your cheek. You sob uncontrollably as JJ kept abusing your cunt

"Im gonna cum in this cunt. It's gonna be my cunt till the end of time you understand?" JJ asked, you stupidly didn't answer. "I said do you understand you empty minded bitch?" He screamed in your face as he grabbed your hair, pulling you flush against his back. "I understand JJ, I'll never leave. I'll go everywhere with you." You answered him. "Good girl, you're so much better than her. Now cum for me." JJ commanded you, your orgasm washed over all the shame and guilty you felt. JJ came shortly after you, making sure to stay deep with you so his seed would paint your cervix. JJ pulled out his cock only to shortly replace it with his fingers. "If you ever leave, I'll bury you here with her understand?"

~ love bay-bay (OMG SO HAPPY I WROTE THIS, college has killed me and I go back next week..... I've been considering dropping out and might actually do it next semester tbh, this also my first time wiring smut in years so pls be nice!!)

[thesilvertheorist]

• fluff drabble - first relationship •

kicking my feet rn, he's so sweet

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

okay so [other than delores] five has never had a relationship [fivela get lost - you don't exist to me], he's never held another person, felt romantic love, he's never felt wanted purely because he's him. five is constantly believing that if he's not of use, no one will want him - which leads him to being SO confused when you show interest in him. i feel like you show interest over him simply existing, standing there, occupying space and he...well he doesn't compute that at first. he thought that maybe you were pulling a joke on him considering his actual age or trying to kill him in some way [five, sweetie, your trauma is showing], so he never really let himself believe your feelings to be real. he knows he's too fucked up for anyone to ever want him, he's well aware that he'd ruin any romantic relationship he ever tried with his outrageous amount of emotional baggage.

although, i feel like after you're nice to him and calm around him for a consistent amount of time, he'd start to smile back at you and accept your offer to get coffee together, he'd wonder which of his suits he should wear and be at the meet-up location fifteen minutes early to make sure he didn't miss you. he'd have spoken to klaus about what he should do to impress you and klaus would give him some, mostly useless, but simple advice on date 'procedure', he'd shyly hold the door open for you, compliment your outfit, pay for your coffee. you'd both speak about weird families and how much you hate the traditional nuclear household idea. he'd laugh about the hypocrisy of most men and wonder how the hell you're sat here with him and not whisked away in some loveless marriage by now. he thanks his stars that no one has snapped you up sooner.

after a few more dates, he'd loosen up a little and start cracking jokes. he'd bring you books on your wishlist and snark at anyone who said anything bad against you. he'd definetly know your coffee order by heart and bring it to you whenever he could, never giving you a chance to pay for his. he'd stare at you longingly whilst you ranted about stupid things and cussed people out for their idiocy. you'd crack one [awful but brilliantly timed] joke and he wouldn't be able to stop the choked laughter that escaped his throat, fighting back tears as he caught his breath. obviously his laughter is contagious and you joined in. he's not laughed in so long...and you'd just had him in stitches - and you'd done it so effortlessly.

he'd want you in his life for however long he had left breathing. so, when he went back to klaus and asked him [rather sheepishly] the best way to ask you to be his...klaus nearly died then and there, celebrating in the fact that his brother had found someone to look after him, to love him. five would internalise everything that klaus said, ignoring the sleazy stuff, and made getting you to be with him as his ultimate goal. and when five puts his mind to something, boy does he deliver. he'd invite you to dinner at a small spot he knew, fancy but not snobbish, he'd speak with the staff beforehand and arrange for there to be candles and petals at your table. relishing in the fact that there were nice places he could take you.

dinner would go well [as it always did] and he'd walk yu home, giving you his jacket like they do in the movies, suggesting in a lovingly sarcastic tone that you should have brought your own. the two of you would take a shortcut through a park to get to your house, and whilst there was a moment of quiet between the two of you, five would stop walking and take your hand gently, he'd look at your intertwined hands and then up to you, asking if you'd have him.

[hands intertwined, chilly breeze, you in five's jacket] "hey, hang on a sec," he'd start as he took your hand in his own, "i wanted to ask you something..." "what's on your mind, five?" you'd respond, not knowing what he was going to ask you - could have been if you knew what the best toaster was to buy or if you knew how to give someone a punctured lung - you never knew with him. "you don't have to say yes, before i start...just let me know if i've put hope in the wrong place so i can carry on with my life-" "five, i-" "i really need to ask if you'll have me and i cant do that if you keep interrupting me" he'd blurt out after an exasperated sigh. "you don't have to ask," you'd begin, stepping closer to him, feeling him tense up at match your gaze with an agonising, longing look - scared to death you might break his heart that he's only just found. the one he owes to you, "i'll have you for as long as you want me to". you'd close the gap between you and press your lips to his, feeling him get taken by surprise and then relax into the moment as he realises what you're doing. he'd kiss you back...his heartache, passion, and inexperience channelling through the kiss. you'd break for air, and rest your forehead against his, wondering what was going on in that beautiful mind of his, sharing an emotionally intimate moment together, breathing each other's air, feeling excess body heat. "so," five would whisper to you, "this means you'll be my permanent coffee date then?" he'd smile out. "for as long as you'll have me".

five's inexperience in romance would be obvious, you'd have to teach him a lot - but he's a QUICK learner. you'd teach him how to kiss, how to cuddle up for warmth, the best way to sleep in the same bed without hogging blankets or space. he'd be an eagerly active participant throughout every lesson and return the sentiment tenfold the next time around. he would be shy but once he knew how you like to be loved, he'd be all over it - and you. [he's actually a hopeless romantic - emphasis on the hopeless]

[featherdusterbelphie]

Sick Day w Luci <3

C/W: uh fluff? and uhm, mention of pills and sickness and stuff.

A/n: got so sick last year and it took me two weeks to recover ugh. so i wrote this to make me feel better :)

Word count: 787 words total.

"I had thought it odd when you didn't accompany me to the common room as usual. Beel passed me your message, how are you feeling?"

He sat down beside you on the bed, his hand missing its glove as he checks your temperature. 

"My, you're heating up yet you're cocooned in your blankets...."

"I'm cold," you rasp out, voice scratchy and weak due to your cough. "I've already taken medicine but I'm still cold...."

Lucifer sighs, a furrow in his brows as his hand brush your sweaty hair back from your face. His touch is soft and warm, you feel drowsy from the sensation. "Have you eaten anything before you took your medicine?"

You grunt, slowly shaking your head from where it pokes out from the top of your blanket. Lucifer sighs again, you feel the bed shift and his weight disappearing followed by the sound of your door closing. You close your eyes, curling up even more underneath your blankets. You'll have to eat something later, or else the flu meds might make you even sicker. Ah, but how could you even do so when the outside air is so freezing cold....

You don't know how much time passed but you hear the door open again, and you don't react, expecting it to be Mammon checking in on you one last time before going to school. But the smell of food wafts into your nose, your stomach growling in want.

You finally turn back and come face to face with a bowl of something steaming hot and delicious, making you sit up slowly as Lucifer sets it down on the nightstand. When you finally see what's inside, you see ramen noodles. 

"I didn't have enough ingredients to make something filling for you, but I'll make you something better at lunch."

"Is this Mam's spicy ramen....?" You hesitate to grab the bowl, lifting it up slowly to take a little sip. You cough a little as the temperature and the spiciness assault your throat at the same time.

"I had heard that spicy food helps reduce inflammation in humans. Please eat, I'll give you another pill later after lunch."

You cross your legs underneath the blanket, slowly lowering the bowl in the space between and start to eat. You were lethargic, but still had an appetite, which was all Lucifer could wish for in your current state. He had read that some humans get so sick that they couldn't even swallow water and their fever gets worse. He didn't want that happening to you.

While lifting the bowl again to take a sip of the soup, you glance up from the rim to watch as Lucifer flips through a folder in his hands. Slowly lowering the bowl to your legs again, you clear your throat, "what is that?"

"My work."

You blink, a bit confused. "Here? In my room?"

"Yes," Lucifer gives you a quick glance before returning back to his papers, flipping through them with a gloved hand. "don't bother fighting me on this, I can do my work while at home. I've already told Diavolo, and he's allowed it."

"But you didn't have to...." You argue, voice getting smaller as you feel guilty for keeping him here at home with you. He could've gone to R.A.D. with the others instead, and you feel like you're burdening him by making him take care of you.

"Yes, but I wanted to. Besides, who would look after you while you're like this? You can't even get up to eat, how could you get better at this rate..."

You fall silent. Although you still feel a little guilty for disturbing his work, Lucifer has a point. If he wasn't here, you'd probably just be waiting for your fever to go down before eating anything, assuming that your fever ever goes down with just sleeping it off...

After a few minutes of sorting through his stack of papers, your pride demon lifts up a now bare hand and places it on in your neck to check your temperature. With the way he sighs, you guess it hasn't changed from the last time he checked. He instead places his cool palm on your forehead to brush your hair back, you close your eyes at the comforting feeling that brings back memories of your childhood. You feel like that troublesome child once again, who's being taken care of by your mother.

"Get some rest." His voice sounds a bit muffled as sleep tried to pull you away again, the combination of your breakfast, the flu pill and the weariness of your body lulling you into a peaceful dream. You vaguely feel the bed shift beside you before all goes dark.

(AO3 version :)

[passionwillow]

Don’t You Leave Me

Hi guys! Back with more smutty stuff. You’re injured on the job and Gibbs just about loses his mind. Smut and age gap and angst! 18 NOT PROOF READ

I skipped over my usual detailed smut writing and went for something more- romantic? Idk.

“Where the hell is she?”

Gibbs’ voice rang out around the room, bringing everyone to attention. DiNozzo and Ziva shared a brief look, bodies stiff as Gibbs approached.

McGee stood and swallowed hard, voice trembling but firm as he spoke to the angry man in front of him. “She’s in autopsy with Ducky. Not- not in that way, sir, she’s alive, of course. But he’s checking her over and patching her up.”

DiNozzo and Ziva winced at the hard look Gibbs gave McGee before storming off towards the elevators, steps eerily silent as he made his way through the room.

"Nice, McGee," Tony started to jab, but the smack to his head from Ziva made him fall quiet.

Gibbs was furious with himself for even letting you out into the field. You were Abby's assistant, a job the dark haired girl initially didn't find necessary. But your humor was just like hers, and the caffeine addiction you shared made you two a comical duo. She soon came to love your presence.

You'd gone out with Ducky to help him while Palmer was sick, a simple task that should have taken an hour or so. But the suspect ended up still being in the house, and he'd gone after you in a panic. Trying to take you hostage, simply losing his mind because he was caught, that was for an interrogator to figure out.

You weren't sure how many kicks you'd taken to the ribs, or how exactly your face had gotten cut up. But Ducky was doing a fine job cleaning and bandaging them.

The older medical examiner was filing the silence with talk about some woman's body he'd examined years ago when the sliding doors to autopsy hissed open. Your eyes found blue ones filled with anger and guilt and panic. Ducky was quick to move out of the way and give you space with Gibbs.

His hands came up and cupped your cheeks, eyes studying the cuts and bruises on your skin. "Are you okay?" His voice was low and shaky, his thumb brushing over one of the bandages.

"Gibbs, I'm fine," you promised, gently grabbing is wrist and squeezing. "I'm just sore. I'll be alright." His eyes stayed glued to yours, as if he was looking for a flicker of deceit in your eyes. He eventually pulled away and looked at Ducky, the older man distracting himself with the equipment on a nearby table.

"Yes, Jethro, she will be just fine. Nothing rest and sleep and some Tylenol can't fix," he said with a wave of his hand. He didn't need to look up to know what the silver haired boss was asking with his eyes.

Gibbs cracked a faint smile and looked back to you, holding his hand out to you and helping you off the table. "You aren't staying alone tonight,” he stated, his tone leaving little room for argument.

You knew better than to tell him you didn’t need a babysitter, but there was a part of you that wanted the company. The adrenaline had worn off and you knew he could feel your hands trembling.

He led you to the elevator and stood quietly beside you, waiting for the jostling and humming motors before flipping the switch. The lights dimmed, the humming of the elevator stopped, and Gibbs was facing you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

You looked up into his blue eyes, frozen in place by the concern and fear there. You swallowed against the lump in your throat before shaking your head, the trembling in your hands moving through the rest of your body.

“I didn’t-.. I’m not prepared for stuff like that. I don’t-..” you trailed off as Gibbs pulled you to his chest, one hand on your back and the other holding your head, cradling you as he spoke.

“He never should have been there. The area was cleared by the police and they missed the bastard. I’m sorry, I never should have put you in that situation.” He mumbled quietly into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling back, hand still in your back as he flipped the switch and sent the car moving.

Your heart was still racing with anxiety and adrenaline as he took you back home, the car ride silent and riddled with a tension you couldn’t pinpoint. He took your bags without a word, carrying them inside once you arrived before locking the door.

Your relationship with Gibbs had been nothing but tension when you started. The good kind. He refused to act on his feelings and you didn’t have the nerve to make the first move. So the three years together had been a balance of subtle flirting and catching one another gazing at the other.

But now he was in your house, taking his coat off and hanging it up as if he’d been here before. You watching him untie his boots and set them aside, your body starting to ache with the bruises and cuts as he made his way over to you.

He always stood so damn close to, practically pressed to you. The heat from his body felt so inviting, and you didn’t think before placing a hand on his chest, grabbing his shirt.

‘I thought I was going to lose you out there,” he spoke quiet and soft, hands going to your waist and pulling you closer, head dipping down to rest against yours.

“I had no idea what was happening, I just heard the yelling and crashes from the house, and..” he trailed off as his nose brushed yours, eyes closed as he breathed you in.

You didn’t hesitate before hugging him, arms like a vice around his neck as he clung to you, head on your shoulder. Your ribs protested at his grip but you didn’t care.

It took only a moment before you gave in to one another, lips meeting in a heated kiss as he held you snug to his body. You stumbled with him to the bedroom, clothes in a trail as he undressed you and you him.

His body was familiar and soothing as he laid over you. Lips ghosting over your cuts and bruises, hands soothing your aches and pains as he devoured you like a man starved.

When he entered you it felt like the Earth was shaking. He groaned and panted in your ear, limbs tangled as he drowned his worries and fears with you. The feel of you around him, the scent and taste of your skin.

Your body arched and moved in perfect synchronicity with his, your pain and anxiety disappearing as he pulled you back to reality, his fingers ghosting and tracing your skin as you tumbled over the edge together.

He got up before you could gather your breath, cleaning the mess between your legs and checking your injuries before laying back down, arms around you in a protective vice.

“Don’t you ever leave me, darling,” he whispered in your ear. You smiled and kissed his shoulder, legs tangled as you whispered.

“Never.”