#if you thought i wouldn't respond to this you were dead wrong.

[fatecantstopme]

Help Me Remember

Pairing: Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: Your memories have been taken from you and it's up to Dean to get them back.

Warnings: Angsty af, memory loss, canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M & F receiving), light face fucking, unprotected sex (P in V), biting (minimal), dirty talk.

Three Weeks Ago

"God almighty, what is that smell?"

You were doing your best to avoid inhaling too deeply--the stench uncomfortably strong. "Rotting flesh."

"Dead body?" Dean asked.

You nodded. "Several, I think."

"Great." Dean stepped in front of you, the instinct to protect you always foremost in his mind. He stepped through the open doorway, quickly enveloped by darkness.

You heard him grunt lowly and you stepped forward, trying to see through the darkness, but even your flashlight didn't penetrate it much. "Dean?"

When he didn't respond, you felt a tightening in your chest. "Dean?" you called again, a little louder.

The silence was deafening--sending cold chills down your back as you stepped farther into the room. "Babe? Answer me."

You took another step forward and your foot collided with something sturdy on the floor in front of you. You trained your flashlight downwards and inhaled sharply as the light illuminated a body at your feet. "Dean!"

You dropped to your knees beside him to check for a pulse, foolishly opening yourself up to attack in such a vulnerable moment.

The last sound you heard was a dark cackle coming from your right just before you were plunged into complete darkness.

Dean awoke with a low groan, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the throbbing in his head. It took him several moments to get his bearings and remember where he was. As soon as the memories clicked in his mind, he called out your name. You didn't respond and he felt a cold desperation wrap around his heart.

"(Y/N)!" he yelled as he pulled himself off the floor. "Sweetheart? Where are you?"

He was met with complete silence, making his blood run cold. He couldn't find the flashlight he'd been carrying, so he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the darkness around him.

He immediately noticed the stench from earlier had dissipated, as had the total darkness that surrounded him in the moments before he'd lost consciousness. His flashlight had barely cut through the blackness, but his phone was able to light up the majority of the room around him with relative ease.

The room was completely empty. Not a single rotting corpse to be seen. No cause for the smell from earlier, nor any sign of what had caused the room to be plunged into complete darkness. More importantly, there was no sign of you.

Dean immediately ran from the room, hurriedly searching the rest of the abandoned home in the hopes of finding you passed out like he had been. When he'd searched every room to no avail, his panic had risen to untenable levels.

He called your phone, but it immediately went to voicemail. He left a frantic message before hanging up and calling Sam.

His brother answered on the second ring. "Dean? Everything okay?"

"Is (Y/N) with you?"

Sam could hear the panic in Dean's voice, causing his heart to race. "No...she was with you on that hunt in Colorado."

"I can't find her anywhere."

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I mean, I got knocked out and when I woke up she was gone. I've searched the whole damn house--she's gone, Sam!"

"Okay, breathe. She wouldn't leave you, so she's gotta be there somewhere."

"Well something knocked me out, Sam--and whatever the hell it was had to have taken (Y/N/N)."

"That doesn't make sense, Dean. You said it was a ghost--a basic haunting."

"Yeah that's what we thought it was! Clearly we were wrong."

"Alright, alright," Sam said in a soothing voice. "I'll pack a bag and head your way--we'll find her."

Dean let out a pained sound. "Hurry."

"I will."

**********

Present

You groaned in annoyance, rolling over in bed to slam your hand on the snooze of your alarm. When the incessant noise stopped, you sighed quietly, staring at the ceiling as light filtered in through the window.

You wanted to get out of bed and go to work about as much as you wanted to get hit by a car, but unfortunately the bills wouldn't pay themselves.

You dragged yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before getting ready for work. Thirty minutes later, you were grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

When you reached the office, you sat in your car for a few minutes, gathering whatever strength you had to get out of your car and walk through those doors. You hated your job--this office life was simply not for you. It was boring, but the paycheck was decent and you didn't have any other options.

You'd only had the job for a few weeks--it would be embarrassing to quit so soon after starting. Besides, the work was easy and your coworkers were nice enough.

You sighed quietly before getting out of the car and heading into the office building. You were greeted by several of your coworkers and you said your good mornings as you made your way to your office.

The day passed by uneventfully, just as every single day of the past few weeks seemed to. When 5pm rolled around, you packed up your things and left for the day. You decided to stop and get Chinese food on your way home--the urge to cook about as far away as the country of China was.

After picking up dinner, you made your way home. As you pulled into your driveway, you noticed an old black muscle car parked in front of your neighbor's house. You thought it odd given your neighbor was out of town, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came as your stomach grumbled hungrily.

You grabbed your things and headed inside, dropping your keys and purse by the front door. You tugged your shoes off, silently cursing whoever created high heels. You sat your food on the kitchen island and went to the fridge to grab a beer.

You plopped down at the island, quickly pulling the containers of delicious food from the bag. You groaned happily as you took a bite of food--finally sating the grumbling of your stomach.

Mid-bite, you heard a noise upstairs, causing you to freeze. You listened closely, almost certain there was someone in your house. You grabbed a large knife from the knife block on the counter and made your way slowly towards the stairs.

You went up them as quietly as you could, stopping on the landing to listen for more noises. You heard movement at the end of the hall, where your office was. You made your way toward the room, holding the knife in front of you.

When you rounded the corner, you saw a man standing in your office, looking through your desk. You steeled yourself before stepping fully into the room, yelling "hey!" as you entered.

The man looked up at you and froze, eyes flicking between your face and the knife in your hand. "Woah, easy there, sweetheart."

"Who are you and why are you in my house?"

The man looked slightly confused. "It's me, (Y/N)."

"How the hell do you know my name?"

The man started to come around to the front of your desk and you stepped towards him, brandishing the knife in what you hoped was a menacing manner. The man was significantly larger than you, but you didn't feel the fear you expected to feel. You felt oddly certain you could hold your own against him in a fight--which made zero sense to you. You'd never been in a fight in your life.

"Easy, (Y/N). Just put the knife down and we can talk."

"You broke into my house, asshole. No way am I putting down this knife."

His hands were still up in the air, but he didn't seem any more afraid of you than you were of him. "Okay, sweetheart, just relax. I can explain."

"Stop calling me that--I don't know you."

The man looked hurt by your words, but he seemed to shrug them off. "Sorry, sweet--shit. Sorry." He slowly lowered his hands, waiting for you to make a move. When you didn't, he lowered them completely. "My name is Dean Winchester."

He waited for a moment, hoping to see a flash of recognition on your face--but your expression remained blank. It was like a stab to the heart, but he continued. "Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You're 33 years old. Your parents' names are Lily and Carter. You were born in New Mexico, but you spent most of your formative years in London. You came back to the U.S. after the death of your parents when you were 19. We met a couple years later on a hunt in Arkansas. We've been inseparable ever since."

The hand holding the knife was shaking almost uncontrollably. There was no way he could know any of those things--you didn't talk about your parents or your childhood with anyone. Hell, you barely mentioned the existence of a personal life.

"How do you know all of that? I don't talk about my family with anyone."

"You did with me."

"But I don't know you--I've never seen you before in my life."

"Yes you have...you just don't remember."

"Excuse me?"

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Three weeks ago, you and I were on a hunt in Colorado. It seemed like a routine hunt...but something went wrong. I was knocked unconscious and you disappeared. I've spent the last three weeks searching for you."

"I've never been hunting a day in my life."

"Look, I know it's confusing and I understand why you don't believe me, but I swear to you, it's the truth."

Much to your surprise, every instinct in your body seemed to believe him...to believe this man you'd never seen before, to trust the man who'd broken into your home, to believe the insane story he was telling you.

You slowly lowered the knife and exhaled shakily. "I don't understand what's going on, but my gut instinct is to trust you."

Dean exhaled gratefully. "You can trust me."

"If you're fucking with me--" you raised the knife for emphasis, "I swear I will beat the shit out of you."

Dean laughed softly. "I'd expect nothing less."

You shot him an odd look and shook your head. "You hungry? I have Chinese food downstairs."

"Sure. I could eat."

You nodded towards the door. "You first sunshine."

He walked ahead of you, making his way down to the kitchen with you in tow. He sat down at the island and you sat across from him, setting the knife on the counter beside you.

"Want a beer?" you asked.

"Absolutely."

You pointed at the fridge. "Help yourself."

Once he had his beverage, he sat back down, eyes watching you intently. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, so you called him out on it.

"It's just...hard to see you like this."

"I'm sure it is. It's uncomfortable for me too."

He winced. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I've just really missed you."

You finally took a moment to really take in his features. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen, but what really drew you in were his eyes. Sure they were a beautiful shade of green, but it was the warmth in them that made you feel comfortable. It was clear to you this Dean Winchester guy cared about you, even if you had zero clue as to why.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he answered.

"What am I to you?"

Dean inhaled sharply and his gaze drifted to the countertop in front of him. It was clear he wasn't sure how to answer that question--or if he should answer it. "I'm...I'm not sure I should answer that."

"I'm a big girl, Dean. Just tell me."

He looked back up at you, but when he opened his mouth, he didn't answer your question. "What do you remember of your life?"

"What?"

"Just tell me what you remember."

"Everything you said about my life was true. My name, my childhood, my parents...their deaths. I remember all of that. I remember moving back to the U.S....but I don't remember meeting you and I certainly don't remember hunting."

"So what have you been doing for the past 14 years?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, the memories infinitely more clear than the ones from your childhood. "I went to college and got a degree in marketing. Dated off and on, but no one had long-term potential. I had a few shitty jobs before finally landing the one at my current firm. I've been there a couple weeks, but I've got a corner office, a good paycheck, and decent coworkers."

"And do you like it? Marketing?"

You paused, considering your options before deciding to answer honestly. "It's boring, in all honesty, but it pays the bills."

"Do you ever think maybe you're meant for something more?"

You stared at him in surprise. You didn't know how he could possibly know that...you'd never shared that particular thought with anyone. You'd always felt that way--for as long as you could remember. "Yes," you whispered. "How did you know that?"

Dean smiled at you. "Because you are meant for more, (Y/N/N). You've spent the last 14 years doing more--you've saved countless lives. Hell, you've helped save the entire planet more than once."

You laughed loudly, thinking he must be joking. When you noticed his expression was completely serious, your laughter died instantly. "You--you can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious."

You scoffed. "No offense, Dean, but I've never saved anyone--let alone the entire planet. I think that's something I would remember."

He gave you a sad smile, pain lacing his gorgeous features. "There's so much you don't remember, (Y/N/N)."

The pain on his face matched the tone of his voice--and it sent a piercing pain into your heart. A pain you couldn't possibly begin to understand. "What else don't I remember?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't think you're ready for all of that, sweetheart."

This time, you didn't correct him. The pet name made your chest ache--and you had a feeling this was a common term of endearment from him. It made you want to understand the nature of your relationship. "Then just tell me one thing. What am I to you?"

Dean exhaled slowly, brilliant green eyes fluttering closed. He was desperately trying to remain objective, but it was nearly impossible. He felt like he owed you in some way and he knew he couldn't lie. His eyes met yours once again and you were stunned by the depths of emotion swimming in those green orbs.

"I feel like I owe you the truth, but I don't want you to freak out. So just...please just let me talk before you respond."

You nodded and waited for him to continue.

"Like I said before, we met a few years after you came back to the states. About 11 years ago, to be exact. I remember the first time I saw you like it was yesterday. You were so beautiful--almost painfully so. I felt drawn to you immediately, but you wanted nothing to do with me. I suppose it only made me want you more." He chuckled fondly at the memory. "You were pure fire back then. No one could control you, not that I'd ever dare to try. I think I fell in love almost immediately. You were everything I'd ever wanted, but I uh--I had a bit of a reputation in the community. A not-so-nice reputation when it came to the ladies...and unfortunately for me, you were well-aware of it."

Dean shook his head sadly. "I still don't know why, but you decided to stay with me and Sam--my brother. The three of us hunted together and sometime during the year that followed, I managed to win you over. You were crazy enough to fall in love with me--and we've been together ever since." He paused. "So to answer your question, (Y/N), you're the love of my life. My best friend, my partner, my confidante, my whole world. You're the woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with and I'll be damned if I don't make good on that promise."

You sat in stunned silence, unsure how to feel about his revelation. One thing was for sure, you knew he was being honest. Every fiber of your being told you he loved you--every instinct you had screamed that he meant every word he said. It nearly broke your heart to have no memory of the feelings he was referring to...you couldn't reciprocate his words. As far as you were concerned, he was a stranger to you. You had no idea how to respond--nothing you could have said would have comforted him.

After several moments of silence, you finally looked up at Dean, meeting his teary gaze. "I believe you," you whispered.

Surprise lit up the handsome man's face. He hadn't been sure how you'd respond, but he hadn't thought you'd believe a word he said. "I meant every word, (Y/N/N)."

"I'm sorry I don't remember," you murmured sadly.

He offered you a small smile. "It's alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna find a way to get your memories back--to get our lives back."

"How?"

"If you're okay with it, we'll go see a friend of mine. She might be able to help."

You might be crazy for being willing to go with this strange man...but your gut told you there was no other choice. You hated the life you lived and if there was even a chance the life Dean was describing was real, you had to take it. "I'm in."

Dean smiled warmly. "That's my girl."

**********

Dean didn't explain who exactly you were going to see, but he did tell you it was quite a distance away. As such, you'd have to stop in a motel along the way.

Dean kept the conversations in the car away from the life--from hunting. He wasn't ready to explain all of that yet, especially if there was even the slightest chance you would run away screaming. He needed you to trust him and mentioning monsters wasn't likely to keep things calm.

It was late at night when he finally pulled off into a roadside motel. "It's not the Ritz, but it'll do for a night," Dean commented.

You offered him a smile and followed him into the dingy room. You tossed your bag onto the bed nearest the door and Dean immediately picked it up and moved it to the other bed. "No way in hell are you sleeping by the door, sweetheart."

You looked a little surprised, but simply shrugged your agreement.

Dean winced. "Sorry--I just worry about your safety, that's all."

You smiled. "It's alright. I get it."

He tossed his bag on the bed and sat down to take off his boots. "You can get the first shower."

"Alright, thanks." You grabbed your stuff and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

Dean made a call to Sam as soon as the door to the bathroom was closed. He'd already called his brother and informed him that he'd found you and told him where you were headed. Sam was already on his way to you, speeding along the highway in your direction.

"Hey Sammy."

"Hey Dean. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's in the shower right now. Where you at?"

"Probably an hour out now. What motel did you stop at?"

Dean gave him the location and room number. "Call me when you get here and I'll let you in."

"Have you told her I'm coming yet?"

"I mentioned you earlier...but I'm trying to keep her as calm as possible. I don't want her to freak out."

Sam sighed. "Alright, but you might wanna mention it before I get there."

"Yeah, yeah. I will. See you soon."

20 minutes after the call ended, you came out of the bathroom, feeling reasonably clean. You'd spent more time in the shower than you'd needed to, if only to try and calm your racing mind. A lot had happened in the last five hours and you were mentally and emotionally exhausted.

When you came out of the bathroom, you collapsed on the musty-smelling bed and sighed.

"I know it's not a great place, but maybe you'll be able to get some sleep. I'm sure you're tired."

"Very."

Dean smiled sadly. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick, okay?"

You nodded and rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the rock-hard bed.

Dean eyed you warily before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You closed your eyes and fell asleep with shocking ease. Mental exhaustion was clearly a great cure for insomnia.

When Dean came out of the shower, he fully expected you to still be awake. He wanted to let you know Sam was on the way so you wouldn't be freaked out by his arrival. Unfortunately, you were clearly sound asleep and he didn't want to wake you. You looked too peaceful to disturb.

**********

You awoke sometime in the early hours of the morning, bladder throbbing uncomfortably. You got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, failing to notice the large figure lying on the couch near the bathroom door.

Your movement woke Sam up and he decided he needed to use the bathroom too. He stood up and stretched, waiting for you to come back out.

When you came out of the bathroom, you caught sight of a large male figure standing near the door. You quickly assessed him and realized it wasn't Dean--the man was too tall. Without thinking, you lunged towards him, fist connecting with the side of his jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

He fell back into the small dining table, forcing it against the wall with a loud noise. The commotion was enough to wake up Dean, who shot out of bed ready to fight. It took him only a moment to realize what had happened.

You lunged towards Sam again, who held up his hands to block your attack. Dean jumped towards you and yelled your name, pulling you to a stop.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Dean insisted. "It's just Sam!"

You were breathing heavily, but you lowered your fists. "Who the hell is Sam?"

"My brother!"

Your mind cleared slightly as you remembered Dean mentioning Sam's name earlier in the evening. "Oh shit," you muttered.

Dean turned on the light and Sam rubbed his jaw woefully. "Nice swing, (Y/N/N).

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you said softly. "I didn't mean to--I just reacted."

"Well it was a good shot either way," Sam said with a pained chuckle.

Dean laughed softly. "At least your instincts are still strong."

You winced a smile. "Let me go get some ice."

Dean stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm. "I'll go get it. Stay inside."

You could tell he was worried about your safety and it made you wonder what he wasn't telling you.

Sam sat down at the table and continued to rub his jaw. "It really is good to see you, (Y/N). Despite the punch."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't know you would be here."

"I figured that out," he said with a light chuckle. "Don't worry about it. It was a solid punch."

Dean came back in with a full ice bucket. He handed the bucket to Sam and chuckled. "Damn dude, she got you good."

You winced, feeling terrible for hurting him.

Dean noticed your discomfort and turned to you with a gentle smile. "It's alright, sweetheart. He's had a hell of a lot worse. He'll be fine."

Sam nodded his agreement. "He's not wrong. I'm alright."

You punched Dean in the arm in annoyance.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You could have told me he was coming!"

"You were asleep! I didn't wanna wake you."

You sighed. "Alright fine, but quit keeping things from me, Dean."

He nodded, rubbing his arm. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"I'm going back to sleep. Let me know when it's time to go."

The brothers watched you crawl back into bed and Dean let out a soft sigh. "I think I'm too awake to sleep now."

"Same," Sam muttered.

The two sat at the table in silence, allowing you to get a couple more hours of sleep before it was time to head back out on the road.

**********

"So who exactly are we going to see?" you asked curiously.

Sam shot his brother a look from the backseat of the car. Dean glared at him in the rearview mirror and the younger man stayed silent.

"A friend of ours from when we were kids," Dean answered. "Her name is Missouri."

"Missouri...hmm. Do I know her?"

Dean nodded.

"How can she help me?"

"She's uh...well she's really..."

"Perceptive," Sam finished for him.

"Yeah, perceptive."

You gave Dean an odd look. "Okay then."

"Just...trust me, okay? She's the best there is. She can help."

Two words remained unsaid, living only deep in Dean's heart. I hope.

When the car pulled up in front of the house, Missouri immediately knew who it was. She met the three of you at the front door, a smile on her face.

"What do I owe the pleasure of a visit from all three Winchesters?"

Dean froze for a moment, which didn't go unnoticed by Missouri. Nor did you miss her use of the words "three Winchesters".

You shot Dean a silent reproachful look and Missouri tsked loudly. "Dean Winchester, what did you do?"

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't do anything, Missouri. I swear."

Missouri's gaze landed on your face, her expression softening instantly. "Oh honey..."

Her expression frightened you, as did her extremely perceptive gaze. It felt as though she was looking directly through you.

"Well come in you three. It's cold out here."

The three of you followed the older woman into her home. She gestured for you all to sit in the living room while she went to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Why did she call me a Winchester?" you asked Dean in hushed tones.

Sam gave his brother an 'I told you so' look and waited for his response.

Dean sighed. "I wasn't completely honest with you yesterday," he admitted. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was your name, until six years ago."

"What happened six years ago?" You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

"We got married," he answered softly. "You decided to change your name...and you've been (Y/N) Winchester ever since."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to freak you out. I'd already unloaded a lot of information on you. It's hard to look your wife in the eyes and realize she doesn't remember you--it's even harder to tell her what she means to you."

"But you told me how much you loved me...why couldn't you admit we're married?"

Dean shook his head. "I really don't know, sweetheart. I think I was scared you would run. It had been so hard to find you and I didn't want to risk losing you again."

Tears welled in your eyes and you placed a soft, comforting hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

He looked up at you, expression matching your own. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, though he desperately wanted to kiss your lips instead.

"Tea, everyone," Missouri stated as she entered the living room.

You immediately took the cup she offered you gratefully. "Thank you."

She nodded at you, giving you a warm smile. "Now I know you boys don't like tea, but there's no alcohol in this house."

"I'll take a cup, Missouri," Sam said.

She handed him a cup and gave Dean a stern look. You had a feeling the expression had nothing to do with his not liking tea.

"Now why don't you boys tell me what brings you all the way out here."

Dean sighed. "You mean you don't already know?"

"Dean!" Sam scolded.

"Oh I imagine it has something to do with (Y/N)'s memories, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Surprise lit up your face. "How did you--?"

"I see your husband left a few things out, didn't he? Do you want to share, Dean?"

Dean winced and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, well--umm...Missouri is--well, she's psychic."

"I'm sorry, she's what?"

"Psychic," Dean repeated.

You turned to look at Sam and he simply nodded. Your gaze shifted back to Missouri who gave you another sad smile.

"It's true, honey. That's why I know about your missing memories. I can see the block in your mind...and the fake memories replacing your real ones."

"Fake memories? What do you mean fake memories?"

"How did your parents die?" Missouri asked seemingly from nowhere.

"A car accident," you answered in confusion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dean and Sam exchange glances. Missouri sighed quietly and shook her head.

You tried to catch Dean's gaze, but he kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him, suddenly fascinated with the pattern of the rug.

"Are you saying my parents didn't die in a car accident?"

"No, dear. They did not," Missouri answered.

"But I remember--" you fell silent as Missouri's words came back to you...'fake memories'. You shook your head. "I don't understand."

Missouri gave you a pitying look. "When you were 19 years old, your parents were murdered by something inhuman. A creature known as a ghoul. The ghoul appeared to you as your mother after it had killed her in an attempt to kill you, but you realized it wasn't your mother. You grabbed a wooden candlestick off the mantle and bashed the creature's head in, managing to kill it without even knowing what it was."

You were frozen in your seat, caught somewhere between disbelief and utter terror. You pushed the terror down, allowing the disbelief to prevail. You jumped out of your seat and yelled, "You people are crazy! Ghouls don't exist!"

Dean stood up and grabbed your arm to keep you from running. "Ghouls are very real, (Y/N). That experience changed your life forever. From that moment on, you knew the things that go bump in the night were real...that they murdered innocent people all over the world. It's why you came back here...to find answers and learn how to hunt them."

You shook your head vehemently. "No, no, that's not possible. They died in a car accident!"

Dean turned you to face him completely. "We met on a vampire hunt in Arkansas. Sam and I had identified the case and we ran into you early on in the hunt. You more than proved your abilities during that case and I asked you to come hunt with us. I didn't want you to keep going alone--it was too risky."

"What are you talking about?" you cried. "Vampires aren't real! None of this is real...it can't be real." Your knees turned to jelly and you would have fallen to the floor if Dean hadn't been holding onto you. He pulled you into him and you sobbed into his chest, finally allowing your tumultuous emotions out.

Dean held you tightly, tears of his own threatening to fall. He didn't know how to make you believe any of this--it sounded insane to him and he'd been raised in the life. He had a hard enough time convincing people who had literally seen a monster that they were real--this was so much worse. You couldn't remember all the monsters you'd killed in your life, so why would you ever believe a word any of them said?

"We might seem crazy, (Y/N), but I think if you allow yourself to believe it for even a moment, you may find it's not as crazy as it sounds," Missouri said gently.

You sniffled softly and turned to look into her eyes. You were still wrapped in Dean's arms--it made you feel incredibly safe, despite the situation. You focused on that feeling and tried to relax your breathing. Every single part of you was certain Dean would die to protect you...if that was true, then the love he had for you was real too. If his love was real, then so was your relationship--your marriage. If all of this was true, then maybe what he was telling you was true...maybe monsters really were real.

Missouri saw the moment you began to believe them--your eyes showed your emotions, but it was your mind that gave you away. She could sense your belief, just as she could sense the false memories swirling around in your mind.

"A witch," she said softly.

Dean's entire body went rigid. "What?"

"The missing memories and the replacements...it's the work of a witch. An extremely powerful one at that."

"Are you sure?" Dean whispered.

Missouri shot him a glare that told him exactly how certain she was.

"A witch?" you questioned softly, pulling away from Dean to look at his face.

"My least favorite type of monster."

"Witches are monsters?" you asked.

"Most of them," he responded.

"This kind of magic is dark," Missouri muttered. "Messing with someone's memories...it's very dangerous magic. The skill needed to not only block out the real memories but replace them indicates this is a very old witch. This type of magic isn't common these days."

"Demons?" Sam asked.

Missouri shook her head. "Older."

"Demons?" you squeaked out. "Demons are real too?"

Dean rubbed your arms comfortingly. "Yeah, sweetheart, but we don't need to worry about that right now, okay?"

You exhaled shakily. "How do I know what memories are real and which ones aren't?"

Missouri stood up and took your hands, forcing Dean to release you. She looked into your eyes, gaze extremely focused. After several moments she spoke. "Your childhood is intact up until your parents' deaths. Everything else up until three weeks ago is a false memory."

"Fourteen years?" you gasped. "Fourteen years of my life is a lie?"

Dean could see you start to spiral, instinctively reaching for you to try to ground you. "Baby, baby, hey--hey...focus on me, okay? Everything's gonna be okay."

Your eyes met his and your breathing began to slow once again. His warm gaze brought you back to earth, calming you in a way only he could. You felt calm--you felt safe. "Thank you," you whispered.

He pulled you into him for a tight a hug, placing his lips to the top of your head. "I've got you, sweetheart. I've got you."

Both Sam and Missouri felt as though they were intruding on a private moment. Missouri gestured for Sam to follow her out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked softly.

You looked up at him. "I think so. It's--it's a lot to take in."

"I know, sweetheart. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, but everything we've told you is true."

"What happened three weeks ago, Dean?"

"What I told you before was true, but I left out a few details. We were on a hunt...a routine haunting. At least that's what we thought it was. When we got there, it was dark inside and it smelled like rotting corpses. It was strange, but not exactly out of the ordinary for a haunting. I went into a room ahead of you and I was knocked unconscious by something--I don't even remember what it was. When I woke up, you were gone."

"Could a--a witch do that?"

Dean nodded. "Easily. Especially if they're as powerful as Missouri thinks they are."

"So what do we do?"

"We find a way to restore your memories...then we hunt this witch down and find out why they targeted you."

"What if we can't?"

"Oh we'll find the witch. Don't worry."

You shook your head. "What if we can't get my memories back?"

Dean's expression betrayed his fear, if only for a second. "There has to be a way. There has to."

"There is," Missouri stated as she reentered the room with Sam in tow. "But it won't be pleasant."

"Can you do it?" Dean asked.

"I'm a psychic, Dean, not a witch."

Dean looked crestfallen.

"But I know someone who can help."

Dean looked back up. "Who?"

"Her name is Bethelia Logan. She's a very old, very powerful witch."

"Absolutely not!" Dean yelled instantly. "I'm not taking (Y/N) to a witch."

"Don't yell at me, child. Do you want her memories back or not?"

Dean started to argue again, but you placed a gentle hand to his chest, silencing him. "Do you trust her?"

Missouri nodded. "I would never send you to someone I didn't trust." She pointed at Dean. "You should know that."

Dean looked down in shame. He hated witches--hated them with everything in his soul. His hatred existed long before this moment...but now that he knew a witch had stolen your memories? He'd kill every witch on earth if he could.

"Where can we find this Bethelia Logan?" Sam asked.

"She lives in the mountains of Montana. Partially for the nature and partially for the privacy. She's not particularly friendly to strangers, but if you tell her I sent you, she'll help you."

"Are you sure she'll help us?" Dean asked.

"I'll send her a message. She'll help."

Dean looked down at you, wanting the decision to be yours and yours alone.

"You have her address?" you asked, a resigned smile on your face.

Missouri gave Dean the address and wished him luck. She said her goodbyes to the boys before sending them out the door. She stopped you before you could leave, wanting to say something in private.

"You are a strong woman, (Y/N). I have always thought that. You will need all your strength to get through this, if you choose to go through with it."

"What do you mean, 'if'?"

"The magic used to take your memories was very powerful black magic...and it will take very powerful black magic to reverse it. Such magic is dangerous for the user and for the person it is used on."

Realization dawned on your face. "Will I survive it?"

Missouri's expression softened, sadness darkening her gaze. "I don't know, honey, but it will likely be the most painful experience of your life. Which is why it must be your choice to go through with it. Yours, (Y/N)--yours alone."

You looked towards the Impala where Dean and Sam waited for you. You turned back to look at Missouri, a soft sigh leaving your lips. "Thank you for telling me."

"I love those boys like family, just as I love you, but Dean isn't like a normal man. He loves more deeply than anyone I have ever known--there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you. Don't tell him what I've told you, (Y/N). He won't let you make this choice on your own if you do...not because he doesn't trust you, but because he doesn't want to lose you."

Tears filled your eyes as you regarded the older woman. "I don't know how to explain it, but I know how much he loves me. I know what he would do for me. I need to remember why--desperately."

Missouri sighed quietly. "You've always loved that boy more than he believes he deserves, but in truth, he deserves all of your love. I've never met two people more perfect for one another--even if you never remember your lives together, I know you will love him that much again."

You nodded, allowing her words to wash over you. You knew in your heart she was right--you could see yourself falling in love with him, so it didn't surprise you that she believed it too. "Thank you, Missouri. For everything."

"You are so welcome, (Y/N) Winchester. Now go--and be safe."

You gave her a tight hug before walking away to join your husband and his brother on what would turn out to be the most harrowing journey of your life.

**********

It was a 16 hour drive from Missouri's home to Bethelia's home in Montana. You were quiet for most of the ride, reflecting on everything that had happened, as well as Missouri's final words to you. You half-listened to Sam and Dean's conversation, but your mind was elsewhere. You knew you had an important decision to make--one you apparently had to make entirely on your own.

Dean noticed your quiet demeanor and it worried him more than he cared to admit. He had to wonder what Missouri had said to you before you'd left, but he didn't want to press you for answers.

"Sweetheart, why don't you get some sleep?" Dean suggested softly. "I'm gonna drive through the night."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you asked softly.

"We do it all the time. Don't worry," he assured you.

Sam nodded his agreement. "If he gets tired, I'll take over."

"Over my cold dead corpse," Dean grumbled.

You laughed lightly and Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll try and get some sleep."

You turned your body slightly, leaning your head against the car window. You tried to get comfortable, but the cold metal and freezing window made that impossible.

Dean noticed your discomfort, watching you shift back and forth for several minutes. "Hey baby," he said softly, getting your attention. You turned to look in his direction.

"Come here, use my shoulder." You looked up at him and he offered you a gentle smile. "I can tell you're uncomfortable."

You angled your body to lean across the seat, resting your head on his shoulder. You sighed softly, finally finding a comfortable position. You were asleep within minutes. Dean glanced down at you and smiled before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Sam watched the interaction from the backseat, a mixture of sadness and joy weighing on him. He was glad Dean had found you, but he was terrified of what would happen when they made it to Montana. Sam wasn't stupid...and he knew a lot more about magic than his brother did. He knew it was going to be extremely dangerous to try and fix your memories, and he worried it wouldn't end well. He didn't want to mention his concerns to Dean as he didn't want to scare him. He knew exactly what his brother was like when someone he loved was in danger.

You awoke several hours later to rays of morning sun shining through the windshield. Your head was still resting against Dean's shoulder and he felt you stir slowly.

"Good morning beautiful," Dean whispered softly.

You looked up at him with a smile. "Mornin'." You pulled yourself up into a sitting position and stretched.

You felt Dean's gaze on you, so you turned to look at him. "What?"

"Nothin'."

You raised your eyebrows. "Then why're you looking at me like that?"

He smiled. "You're just so beautiful," he said softly. "I can't help but stare."

You blushed and looked away from him. "Not this early in the morning," you mumbled.

He chuckled lightly. "Nice try, sweetheart. You're beautiful 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. 366 during leap year." He shot you a wink, which only caused your blush to deepen.

"You're too much," you giggled softly.

He reached over and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You're just right."

"What did I do to deserve you?" you asked softly.

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Deserve me? Other way around, baby."

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

He glanced over at you again. "There's a lot you don't remember, (Y/N/N). Trust me when I say I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"That's not what Missouri thinks."

"Huh?"

"She told me you think you don't deserve me, but she said you deserve all the love I have to give. She thinks very highly of you, you know."

The look of surprise covered his face again. "I think highly of her too."

You smiled, reaching across to grab his hand. He looked over at you with a smile. "I can see why I fell in love with you."

His heart skipped a beat, hearing your words had a profound effect on him. "I'm still not sure how I won you over, but I'll always be grateful for your love."

You leaned across the seat and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I can't wait to remember everything," you whispered.

He shot you a warm smile, but it quickly faded to sadness.

"Dean?" you murmured.

"I know what we're going to do is extremely dangerous. I'm no fool, (Y/N/N)...I know Missouri warned you. I don't want you to do anything out of some sort of obligation to me, okay? I would rather die than lose you."

You touched his cheek gently. "I didn't want to worry you."

"I know. I'm willing to bet she told you not to tell me anyway."

Your mirthless chuckle was confirmation enough. "For the record, any decision I make is because it's what I want to do...and I need you to respect my decision."

Tears welled in his eyes, but he nodded. "I'll try."

You shook your head. "It's not a request, Dean."

He sighed. "I know you can't remember...but I'm not good at these types of situations. I tend to be a little reckless when someone I love is at risk."

"Missouri may have mentioned that too."

Dean chuckled. "Of course she did."

Sam began to stir in the backseat, a loud yawn alerting you both to his consciousness. "We there yet?" he mumbled.

Dean laughed. "We've still got another 4 hours or so."

"You want me to drive?"

"No one but my baby gets to drive Baby."

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Did you just call the car 'Baby'?" you asked.

"The three things I love most in this world are, you, Sammy, and this car."

You laughed heartily, rekindling Sam's laughter and sparking Dean's laughter. You might not be able to remember it, but you knew deep in your soul that these two people were your family--and somehow you loved them even without the memories to back it up.

**********

It was mid-afternoon when the three of you finally pulled up in front of a small house in middle-of-nowhere Montana.

"Do you think Missouri called her?" Dean asked.

"We better hope so," you murmured, pointing at the various signs in the yard warning people not to trespass.

"Yikes," Sam muttered.

Dean sighed and got out of the car, you and Sam following close behind. Before Dean could raise his hand to knock on the front door, it opened to reveal a surprisingly young-looking woman.

"Can you read?" the woman snapped.

"Missouri Moseley sent us," Sam said quickly.

The woman's expression softened immediately. "Well why didn't you say so? Come in, come in!"

You followed her inside and she gestured for you to have a seat in her small living room. The three of you sat down beside each other on the small couch.

"I'm Bethelia," the woman said as she sat in a chair across from you. "You must be the Winchesters."

The three of you nodded.

Bethelia looked at you closely. "I see you've been touched by black magic."

You nodded slowly. "So I've been told."

"Can you help her?" Dean asked.

Bethelia hummed quietly. "I can, but I am not certain you'll want me to."

"Missouri warned me it would dangerous."

She nodded. "This type of magic is very strong. I cannot guarantee you will survive."

Dean froze beside you and you blindly reached out to grab his hand. You squeezed it reassuringly. "What do I have to do?"

"(Y/N/N)," Dean pleaded.

Bethelia watched you carefully. "You have to be willing to risk everything to retrieve your memories. As you are now, you can make new memories with the ones you love, even if you cannot remember the past. But if you choose to work with me, your life may be forfeit."

You'd spent every waking hour since leaving Missouri's thinking about what you would do. Now, faced with the question, you found you knew your answer without a shadow of a doubt. "I'm willing to risk it."

"(Y/N/N)," Dean pleaded a second time. "You said it yourself--we can make new memories...we can fall in love all over again."

You turned to look into your husband's bright green eyes, both of which swirled with emotions the depths of which you couldn't even begin to understand. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

Bethelia rose, immediately understanding what you needed. Sam took a second longer, but quickly followed Bethelia from the room, leaving you and Dean alone.

Dean immediately rose from his seat and began to pace. "You can't do this, (Y/N). It's not worth the risk."

"It's my decision, Dean. I don't need your permission, but I would like your support."

"I can't give you that--I can't...I can't lose you."

You stood up and grabbed his hands, stopping him in front of you. "I know it's hard, but it's worth it to me--it's worth the risk. I need to remember, Dean. It's my life and if the last few days are anything to go by, then I'd give anything to remember the last eleven years with you. Anything."

He looked down at you, finally allowing the tears to slide down his face. Your heart broke as you took in his pained expression, fear evident in his gaze. "I want to remember everything about you--every moment, every heartbreak, every painful memory, every joyful second, every loving embrace. I want to remember what it's like to love you--and be loved by you."

You reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, and you found yourself wishing you could take away his pain. You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live a lie--you needed the truth and the only way to get that was to restore your memories.

"I need to remember."

Dean closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. He would have traded places with you in a heartbeat, sold his soul to save you, set fire to the world to keep you out of harm's way...but he couldn't do any of those things. He was powerless to protect you and it was killing him.

"I know you're strong," he whispered. "but baby, I'm terrified."

"I know," you murmured. "I know."

You rose up on your tiptoes, gently pulling his face down to yours. You pressed your lips to his in a heated kiss--a kiss you tried to infuse with every complicated emotion you'd felt in the last several days. His body instinctively melted into yours like you were made for each other--like you'd done it a thousand times before.

When you separated, he leaned his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours. "I need you to trust me," you whispered.

Dean closed his eyes. "I trust you."

You exhaled shakily as you pulled away from him. It was killing him, but he couldn't make this decision for you--all he could do was give you the one thing you asked for.

"I support whatever decision you make...and I love you," he said softly. "I'll always love you."

You hadn't really expected him to support you, so hearing him say those words gave you an added boost of strength you didn't know you needed. You touched his cheek one last time before walking away in search of Bethelia.

"You are ready," the witch said from the doorway, her words a confirmation, not a query.

You nodded. "Let's do this."

Sam went to his brother's side, giving him a reassuring clap on the back. There wasn't really anything for him to say, but his presence was enough to calm Dean.

Bethelia turned to address the two men. "No matter what happens, you must not interrupt the spell. If you do, you risk her mind as well as her life. Do you understand?"

They both nodded.

"It will be painful," she said to you.

"I know," you whispered.

She simply nodded and gestured for you to follow. She guided you to a dimly lit room filled with hundreds of candles. The room was obviously home to a large amount of spell work, but much of the space had been cleared to make room for a large mat in the center of the floor.

"Lie down, (Y/N)."

You did as she asked, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"You may wait in the hall," Bethelia addressed Sam and Dean. "Do not cross the threshold. Do not interrupt the spell. Do nothing."

You turned to make eye contact with Dean. "I'll be alright."

He nodded, desperate to believe you. "I love you," he whispered.

"I know," you whispered back.

"Let's begin," Bethelia said, silencing any further conversation.

You closed your eyes and sent out a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening--a prayer for strength, for survival. It was the last coherent thought you had before your mind was overwhelmed with a blinding pain you couldn't describe.

Sam and Dean watched from outside the room as you writhed in pain, cries of agony ripped from your throat as Bethelia worked her magic.

"I can't watch this," Dean gasped out, turning on his heels and practically running for the front door.

Even outside, he could hear your screams--each one like a knife to his heart. He didn't know how long he stood there, he had long since lost count of your screams, the seconds between them all but disappearing.

Sam had remained inside, standing watch over you as best he could. Much like Dean, his chest ached with each of your screams--he hated seeing you in so much pain.

After what felt like an eternity, silence fell on the small home--a silence more deafening than any scream. Dean waited for a few moments before running back into the house, terrified of what he would find.

When your limp body came into view, he tried to enter the room--tried to reach you, but Sam grabbed him and held him back. "Dean, you can't! She's not done!"

Dean struggled against his brother's hold, every instinct dying to go to you. He watched in terror as you remained still as death, not a single sound escaping your sweet lips.

"(Y/N/N)..." he whimpered.

Bethelia's chanting had ceased, her small form kneeling beside your body as if waiting for something.

Unbeknownst to anyone in the home, a war was raging inside your mind--a battle between who you were and who you believed yourself to be. Memories were fighting for their rightful place in your mind--false and real, a distinction your fragile psyche couldn't make.

The only thing you knew for sure was your name: (Y/N) Winchester. You knew it with the same conviction that you knew gravity was real. Your certainty gave way to another: Dean Winchester was the love of your life. Flashes of moments from the past few days flew through your mind, but the ones you focused on where the memories you didn't recall.

You saw the joyful moments filled with laughter and jokes, the painful moments filled with tears and loss, the passionate moments with nothing between your bodies but sweat and desire, and the loving moments that grounded you--kept you from giving up even when life was unbearable.

You felt his love for you wash over you in waves, drowning you in an ocean of passion you didn't wish to escape from. But then you felt your love for him, the depths of which you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Whatever you'd imagined you'd felt for him paled in comparison to reality--he was tied to your soul so completely you wondered how it was possible to have lived without his memory for more than a moment.

As these memories and emotions solidified within you, the false memories began to fade away, replaced by the real ones that had been locked away in the darkest recesses of your mind. Millions of memories flooded your mind, filling the gaps in your life, making you whole once more.

Dean, Sam, and Bethelia watched in silence, waiting for something to happen. Dean wasn't even certain you were breathing, but he was terrified to ask...he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Bethelia began to look more and more crestfallen as time went on, the minutes ticking by in painful silence. Sam's gaze was focused on her, praying her expression would turn hopeful once again.

Dean's gaze, on the other hand, was focused entirely on you--on your face. He was looking for any sign of movement, of life...anything to calm his aching heart.

An hour had passed since the spell had begun...twenty minutes of silence had stretched on after your screams had ended. They were the longest twenty minutes of Dean's life.

He had begun to lose hope--fearing the worst, but afraid to voice it. Suddenly, you gasped for air, bolting upright as you sucked in gulps of oxygen. Dean ran to you, breaking free of his brother's relaxed grip--not giving a damn if he was allowed to enter the room or not.

He dropped to his knees beside you, reaching out to grab your face. "(Y/N)? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

Your eyes met his and his breath caught in his chest. Those sweet (y/e/c) eyes he loved so much were full of recognition--full of love. "Dean," you whispered hoarsely.

He wrapped you in a hug so tightly you thought he might squeeze every ounce of air from your lungs, but you couldn't be bothered to care. You were squeezing him back just as tightly, feeling at home in his arms.

He leaned back to look at your face again, brushing your hair back to see you more clearly. He hadn't realized how different you'd looked when your memories were gone--not until this moment. As he looked at you, he noticed all the little things he hadn't taken the time to pay attention to before. Your skin seemed to glow with love and warmth, your eyes sparkled more brilliantly than they had in the past few days, and your smile was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

"Baby?" he asked tentatively, needing to hear the confirmation from your lips.

"I remember," you whispered softly, leaning forward to brush your lips against his.

He wrapped his arms around you again, tugging you close, and kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. The moment was so pure, so full of love, that both Sam and Bethelia were moved by it. The love the two of you shared was beyond what an average person would ever experience--incomprehensible to most.

When you finally separated, Dean leaned his forehead against yours. "You scared me for a minute," he admitted.

"I told you I'd be okay," you murmured. "Have a little faith, my love."

He smiled. "God I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Dean finally pulled away from you and rose to his feet. He took your hand in his and helped you up, your body still weak from the intensity of the spell.

You smiled warmly at the two people standing a few feet away. "Hey Sammy. Miss me?"

Sam grinned and stepped forward to wrap you in a hug. "Of course I did."

When he stepped back, you addressed Bethelia. "I can't thank you enough."

Bethelia smiled and gestured between you and Dean. "This right here? This is thanks enough. It has been a long time since I've witnessed a love this pure. I feel honored to have been able to witness it again."

You looked up at Dean as he smiled down at you. He kissed your forehead and you leaned into him. "I feel honored to be able to experience it--especially knowing what it's like to live without it."

"I know the feeling," he murmured.

"Not to bring the mood down, but I remember what happened in Colorado," you said softly.

Sam and Dean looked at you, both waiting to hear what you recalled.

"I saw you on the floor--unconscious--and I let my guard down. I was terrified you were dead...that's when she got me."

"The witch," Dean stated quietly.

You nodded. "She knew my name--knew yours too. All she told me was she wanted you to pay. She didn't explain what she meant."

"Why the hell did she target you if she wanted me to pay?"

"She had to have known what losing me would do to you--that it would hurt you more deeply than anything she could ever have done to you directly."

Dean felt a mixture of sorrow and anger. No one was going to get away with hurting you, not as long as he drew breath.

"All I remember after that was the pain...so much pain. Then I woke up in a house in a city I've never lived in before with a whole life I didn't remember. But as far as I was concerned, that was my life. It felt so real--up until the day you waltzed in."

Dean reached out and touched your face. "Anyone who dares hurt you is destined for a short life."

You'd known he'd want to kill the witch, and to be honest, you didn't blame him. Hunting monsters was your life--and this witch certainly counted as one. "We'll find her Dean."

"Damn right we will. I'll put a bullet right through her skull. See how she likes having her mind messed with."

You placed a gentle hand to your husband's arm, trying to calm him. "For now, let's just focus on the good things. I have my memories back and I'm with you. That's what matters."

Dean nodded and offered you a weak smile. "You're right, baby. You're right."

You turned to Bethelia with a smile, thanking her once again, as did Sam and Dean. You were surprised when Dean gave the witch a hug--he wasn't an affectionate man by nature, especially with strangers, but she'd saved your life in his estimation...so she got a pass.

"You're the only witch I've ever liked," Dean commented as the three of you prepared to leave.

Bethelia laughed. "There are others like me out there, I can assure you. We're not all monsters, hunter."

Dean nodded. "Perhaps not."

You grabbed his hand and tugged it gently as you started toward the Impala. "Come on, handsome. It's time to go."

The three of you piled into the car, waving goodbye to Bethelia as you pulled away.

"I'm so ready to go home," you mumbled with a yawn.

"Me too, baby."

"Me three," Sam added.

"Do you want to stop at a motel to rest?" you asked softly.

Dean's gaze rested on your face, drinking it in like he was scared he'd forget it. "Not a chance, sweetheart. I wanna get you home as quickly as possible."

The hungry look in his eyes belied his hidden meaning and you silently hoped Sam didn't notice. "Try not to drive too fast," you teased.

"I would never," he said in mock offense. He pressed firmly on the accelerator and the Impala shot down the road at an assuredly illegal speed.

You laughed and shook your head, knowing full-well Dean would get you home in one piece, even if it was a little faster than it should be.

**********

Fourteen hours later, you were back home in your beloved bunker in Lawrence, Kansas. What should have taken nearly sixteen hours, was shortened by Dean's intense desire to get home.

"Oh I missed this place," you said with a smile as you entered.

"You didn't even remember it existed until a few hours ago," Dean chided.

"I missed it without even knowing what I was missing...kinda like I missed you," you teased back.

He smiled, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. "Not nearly as much as I missed you."

You leaned back into him. "That could be because you actually remembered me."

"There's not a chance in hell I could forget you." He pressed gentle kisses to your neck down to your shoulder.

"As happy as I am to have you back," Sam interrupted. "Could you two get a room?" His voice was light and teasing, which made you laugh.

"Oh come on, Sammy--it's nothing you haven't seen before," Dean said with a grin. "Just a man loving his gorgeous wife."

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. "I'll go get my noise canceling headphones. You two have fun getting reacquainted."

You watched Sam walk off towards his bedroom, a small smile playing on your face.

"So you think we should get...reacquainted?" Dean murmured against the shell of your ear.

"Aren't you exhausted from all the driving?"

"I'm never too tired for you, baby."

You turned around to face him, leaning into his strong body. "I think you should take me to bed then, Mr. Winchester."

"It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Winchester." Dean slipped his arms under your round bottom, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He held you closely as he carried you towards your shared bedroom.

As he made his way to your room, you spent every second pressing kisses to his face sweetly, tangling your fingers in his short hair.

"You better stop that or I might take you right here on the table," he growled lowly.

"It's not like we haven't before," you giggled.

Dean groaned. "I don't wanna scar Sam for life--otherwise, I'd have you on every surface in this damn bunker."

"Maybe later then," you murmured as you kissed his neck affectionately.

Dean moved more quickly, the need to get you into his bed becoming overwhelming. As soon as he made it into the bedroom, he kicked the door closed, pressing you against it as he attached his lips to yours hungrily.

You gasped slightly before returning his passionate kiss. You tugged on his jacket, silently begging him to remove it. He pulled away just long enough to rip his jacket and flannel off before kissing you again.

His strong hands slid up under your shirt, moving upwards to tug it off over your head. His lithe fingers unsnapped your bra with practiced ease and pulled it forward to reveal the swell of your breasts.

"I've missed these," he murmured, lips immediately finding their home between the valley of your breasts. He took his time nipping and sucking at each one, playing with your nipples just the way you liked.

Your fingers dug into his scalp as you held him close to you, reveling in the feeling of his lips on your body. Your core pulsed with aching need, but you ignored it as best you could. You didn't want to rush him...not after all this time apart.

Dean loved how soft you felt against his toned form--he couldn't describe how much he'd missed touching you so intimately. This wasn't the first time the two of you had been torn apart from each other, but it had been the toughest time for him.

He felt your soft hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to remove it. Dean smirked against your skin before turning around and tossing you onto the bed. He tugged his shirt off over his head and threw it across the room, giving you a clear view of his impressive torso.

He started to climb onto the bed, but you stopped him. "Pants too, please."

He chuckled. "Impatient, are we?"

You shook your head. "I just want to see your perfect body on display--just for me."

He raised his eyebrows, but did as you asked, removing his pants slowly, eyes locked on yours.

You could see his hard member straining against his boxers, practically begging to be touched. You crawled across the bed, coming closer to him, eyes trained on your target.

"Whatcha doin' baby?"

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, tongue darting out to dampen your lips. "Wanna taste you."

Dean exhaled sharply, but there was no way he was going to say no to your request. He watched as you rolled over onto your back, head hanging off the edge of the bed. His breath caught in his chest as he realized your intentions. "You sure?" he whispered.

You grinned cheekily. "Come on pretty boy--use me."

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, quickly ridding himself of his last article of clothing. He gripped his large cock tightly in his right hand and stepped forward. He tapped against your mouth gently. "Open wide, sweetheart."

You happily obliged, mouth opening as wide as you could to accommodate his size. He slid slowly into your warm, wet mouth, groaning softly at the feeling.

You made a little noise of pleasure, wrapping your hands around his muscular thighs to get more comfortable and pull him even closer to you.

Dean's motions started out slow, but he quickly lost himself in the feeling of you, listening to the delicious sounds you were making. Within moments, he'd begun fucking your face properly, obscene sounds escaping his lips.

"Fuck--that's it baby. S-so good for me."

You moaned happily, fingers digging into his skin as you continued to take him deep in your throat. He leaned forward to grab at your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples as he thrust, which only increased your enjoyment.

Dean felt his orgasm quickly approaching, but he wasn't ready to cum just yet. He eased his cock out of your mouth and took a step back, chuckling softly at your whine.

"Don't worry, baby--I'm nowhere near done." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your messy lips before rising back up to his full height. "Get comfortable, sweetheart--it's my turn."

You quickly rotated your body so your head rested comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed. Dean wasted no time joining you on the bed, quickly unsnapping your jeans before pulling them off along with your panties.

He wedged himself between your legs, lowering himself to lie flat on the bed. He inhaled deeply, face mere inches from your aching pussy.

"You smell delicious, baby--can't wait to taste you."

Dean's tongue slipped out of his mouth, running a thick stripe up your pussy before sliding between your lips to begin his assault.

Your hips shot off the bed, causing Dean to lay his arm across your abdomen to hold you in place. He didn't want you to be able to squirm away while he gave you as much pleasure as he could.

Your fingers entwined in his hair as he ate you out like it was the last thing he'd ever do. It felt so incredibly good and your moans of pleasure spurred him on.

"D--feels s-so good."

He moaned into your core, the vibrations making you cry out in pleasure. He sped up his ministrations, years of practice with you making him an expert on your body.

"So close," you whimpered.

Dean slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them to press against your g-spot rapidly. Within moments, your orgasm crashed into you with violent intensity, hips jacking off the bed despite Dean's attempts to hold you in place. He kept up with your movements, not stopping until you pulled him up by his hair.

He licked his lips with a smirk, enjoying the lingering taste of you. His normally bright green eyes were dark with arousal as he looked at your blissed out face. He hovered over you, eyes scanning your face as if to memorize every inch of it, before leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You loved the feeling of his strong body against yours, enjoying the warmth emanating from his heated skin.

"I need you, (Y/N/N)," he whispered against your lips. "Please."

"Wanna feel you inside me, Dean--make me forget my own name."

He growled lowly. "I can do that for you, baby. Only thing you'll be able to say is my name."

You moaned softly, lifting your hips to press against his, earning a sharp inhale from his lips. He slipped his cock in between your folds, entering you completely with one harsh thrust.

You cried out at the feeling of fullness, slight pain mixing with the pleasure. No matter how many times you'd made love to this man, he never failed to make you feel incredible. Every time was like the first time in the first few moments, before quickly morphing into an unforgettable experience with someone who knew your body better than you did.

"Move baby--please," you begged.

He always waited for a few moments, never wanting to cause you any undue pain, but as soon as those words left your mouth, he began to thrust into you in earnest.

"Shit, sweetheart--missed this sweet little pussy. Squeezing me so good, feels like heaven."

"Harder, Dean--please."

Dean shifted his body to give you what you needed, thrusts now deeper and faster than before. His fingers dug into your hips so tightly that bruises were sure to appear.

Your moans reverberated throughout the room, spurring Dean on. His own noises were absolutely sinful--and you loved hearing them. Your nails dug into his muscular back, trying desperately to ground yourself in the sea of pleasure.

You felt your orgasm approaching and you voiced as much to Dean, who was already well-aware.

"Want you to cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock."

You whimpered, clinging to him tightly as he continued his measured thrusts. "Dean..."

"I've got you, gorgeous. Let go for me."

You cried out in pleasure as your second orgasm washed over you, body shaking beneath his, waves of pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Dean worked you through your high, waiting until your body stopped shaking before gently rolling you onto your stomach. You tried to lift your hips to accommodate him, but he gently pressed you back down into the mattress.

"I've got this baby girl, just get comfortable."

He slid into you, laying his body on top of you, covering you like a heated blanket. The angle of his thrusts instantly sent you spiraling--body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--how's this pussy still so fuckin' tight?" he growled in your ear.

You were clenching him tightly, intense pleasure slamming into your core with each thrust he made. You could hardly breathe--the pleasure already so blinding.

"You're close again, aren't you? I can feel it, baby," Dean murmured against your neck.

You couldn't do anything other than moan and whine as he fucked you deeper into the mattress. He was right--you were on the brink of another blinding orgasm.

"I wanna fill this sweet pussy up, baby--but I can't do that until you cum for me."

You whimpered softly, Dean's thrusts continuing.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

"Don't stop--" you gasped.

Dean continued his motions, not changing a single thing. He knew you were close--all you needed was a little push. His lips were so close to your shoulder, brushing softly against your skin. On a particularly hard thrust, Dean bit into your shoulder blade, drawing a scream of pleasure from your throat as you came around him.

He slowed his motions, not quite ready to cum, but not wanting to stop. He kissed the bite mark gently, making sure you felt his love for you in each kiss.

When you'd come down from your high, Dean eased you onto your back, cock still buried deep inside you. He began slow, gentle thrusts, waiting for you to refocus on him.

After several moments, your eyes finally met his and he smiled warmly. "There you are."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I'm right here, baby."

"Want you to fill me up," you begged softly.

Dean groaned. "You keep squeezing me and looking at me like that and I'm a goner."

You gave him a weak smile and clenched your pussy as tightly as you could. He gasped softly, hips stuttering slightly.

"Cum for me, Dean--please."

"Gonna f-fill you up, baby...s-so close."

You wrapped your weak legs around him, holding him against you. You placed a gentle palm against his cheek, forcing him to continue looking at your loving expression.

His thrusts had become sloppy and his breathing labored. A few more thrusts and he exploded inside of you, cries of pleasure leaving his lips as he filled you up. His spend leaked out of you as his thrusts began to slow to a halt, lips pressing into your sweaty skin in gentle kisses.

"I love you," he whispered repeatedly. "So, so much."

Finally, Dean collapsed on top of you, softening member still inside of you. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, entangled together comfortably. You held him tightly, almost afraid to let go.

Dean slowly began to lift himself off of you, leaving you cold and empty. You whimpered softly, reaching for him as he got off the bed.

He turned to you and smiled. "I'm coming right back, baby. I promise."

He moved slowly towards the sink in the corner of the room before returning with a warm, wet washcloth to clean your mixed spends from between your legs. Each touch made you shiver, but his gentle voice grounded you.

"I've got you, baby. Almost done."

Once he'd finished, he tossed the washcloth across the room before crawling back into bed with you. He laid down beside you and tugged you into him. You angled your body to lay your head on his chest.

The two of you laid in silence for so long you began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. He had to be tired after that drive and the exertion of your love making, so you didn't blame him.

Just as you began to drift off to sleep yourself, you heard Dean's soft voice. “Babe? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you said softly.

“Do you want that normal, apple pie kinda life?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head against his chest. “Absolutely not."

“Really? Not even a little?”

You looked up at him, expression softening. “Not even a little. I happen to love our life. I love living in a weird underground bunker. I love driving all over god’s green earth in our ancient Impala. I love staying in seedy motels and eating shitty diner food. I love saving people and hunting monsters. Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“Because I get to do it all with you.”

He smiled at you, gaze exceptionally tender.

“I couldn’t ask for anything better than this beautiful, messy life of ours.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly. “I love you so damn much, baby.”

“I love you too, Dean Winchester. Always.”

You settled back against his warm chest, listening to the solid beating of his heart. You knew tomorrow would bring another battle, another problem to solve, but for right now, you were exactly where you needed to be--in the arms of the man you loved with all your soul, feeling safe and loved...finally home.

[scififettuccine]

Homelander x SupeTeen!Reader

Idk ya'll Homie has really been getting on my nerves recently. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this one at first, but I LOVE the way it turned out. It was a doozy but it was SO FUN to write! This isn’t proof read just yet so please don’t yell at me💀

Summary: You meet your biological father for the first time at Vought Tower after your adoptive mother's unexpected passing...he's not exactly what you expected.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Homelander (Obviously), death of a parental figure, mentions of death, manipulation tactics, awkward parental conversations???

Being a Supe had never been easy for you, though, luckily you had never been forced to live in a lab. Soon after you were born, one of the Vought scientists had taken you in as her own, -due to the fact that your biological mother had died during childbirth- directly going against Vought's policies. She was found out eventually, to no one's surprise...but this breach in policy gave headway to a new experiment. So, she was allowed to keep you and raise you as her own. You were raised as any other child would be, but you were treated with extra caution...and being the only Supe in school wasn't exactly a cake walk. But the worst thing you had experienced was a little bullying, but your doting, caring, adoptive mother put an end to that rather quickly by talking with the school board. The first 15 years of your life were...tolerable, if not ideal. It was supposed to stay that way...until your mother was found dead at her place of work.

It had only been two weeks since your mother died. In those two weeks, you had been relocated and told, verbatim, that your father was one of the most iconic Supes in the world...Homelander. Now? You were sitting in The Seven's meeting room at Vought Tower, anxiously toying with the handle of the swivel chair you were sitting in. Part of you was still just...numb. Everything you had ever known had been ripped away from you seemingly overnight. Any other child would be over the moon...but you? You were just...detached. You were pulled out of the endless depths of your own thoughts when a voice echoed off the walls of the room.

"Hey there, kiddo!"

You looked up from your anxious fiddling, and were met with the blindingly white smile of your biological father. You did your best to give a convincing smile back, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat. His presence wasn't exactly the most comforting. He tilted his head to the side a bit when you didn't respond.

"You're Y/N...Right? Hopefully we didn't get the wrong kid...that would be awkward, wouldn't it?" Homelander asked with a laugh. He sort of stopped in the center of the room, looking you up and down, like he was trying to evaluate you...to decide your worth. You nod sheepishly.

"Yeah...yeah. That's me." It honestly didn't help that you were the age that you were...it made it more awkward somehow. Homelander didn't say anything for a moment, almost like he was waiting for you to say something else. When you didn't, he sort of chuckled.

"You're not very talkative, are you?" He asked. You had opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "I guess that's understandable. Meeting your old man for the first time is no small feat..." He paused for a moment as he evaluated your expression. "I'm sorry to hear about your mom...tough stuff there, kiddo." You took a breath when he mentioned your mother. It was all so fresh...and there were so many things you had recently learned that she had never told you. You didn't even know she wasn't your biological mother until after she died.

"Mmm...Don't be sorry...not your fault."

Oh, the unknown irony of that statement.

Homelander let out a small scoff and frowned. Admittedly, the frown looked incredibly fake...almost like he was mocking you.

"Still...I can't imagine what you must be feeling. I mean, to find out that she was keeping so much from you...after she died...? That must pack an even worse punch." You sort of stiffened in your seat. You weren't exactly stupid...you could read his tone. He was hiding his insults towards your mother with a cruel, mock sympathy.

"She only did it to protect me...I know she did. She wasn't a bad mom, she was amazing, actually." You respond, almost matter-of-factly, your eyes glowing red ever so slightly. "I know raising a Supe couldn't have been easy for her...she had her reasons." It was incredibly hard to talk about your mother in any way, considering she had only died two weeks ago. Homelander sensed your tone, and put his hands up as he noticed the flicker of light in your eyes. It suddenly became clear to him that you couldn't control your powers, which almost made him smirk.

"Hey now, of course she was...Absolutely no hard feelings towards your mom...But I know I would have never kept things from you like that. And registering you at a public school, knowing you're a Supe? That's just...cruel." You were going to continue defending your mother...until he mentioned school. That was something you couldn't exactly convince yourself was a great move on your mom's part.

"School was...a different story. It was rough." You said, pulling your legs up onto the swivel chair so you could hold your knees to your chest. Homelander nodded as he took a few steps closer to you, his hands now at rest behind his back.

"So I've heard...I spoke to your therapist." That comment turned your stomach a bit. Wasn't everything you spoke about with your therapist supposed to be confidential? Homelander noticed the slight change in your expression. "Don't worry, Y/N...I didn't dig into any of the gritty teenager things..." He chuckled, "I was just curious to learn about your school situation. You're a sophomore now, right?"

"Yeah...I will be. In the fall." You said quietly. Homelander smiled, where he now stood beside your chair at the point of the uniquely shaped table.

"Well that's fun, isn't it?" He asked as he pulled out one of the other swivel chairs and pulled it towards him. "One more year and then you're one of the big dogs." You nodded, watching his movements as he sat down, facing you. Everything about him just seemed so...strange. Even the way he moved. It looked almost calculated...and was mildly unsettling.

"I guess..." You said quietly. You sighed as you rested your chin on your knees, grabbing onto the table to reluctantly turn your chair to face his...it was only polite.

"You don't seem too thrilled..." He started, his blue eyes meeting the identical set that you possessed, "Was school really that bad?" That was more of a rhetorical question on his part, he knew everything about you.

"The teasing sucks...They call me 'Laser Eyes'..." Homelander stifled a laugh when you said that, to which you narrowed your eyes.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" He said with a chuckle, "That is the stupidest insult I've ever heard!" Homelander took a moment to stop laughing before he looked back to you. "Look. I'm not laughing at you, kiddo. I would never. But Laser Eyes...? Really? They couldn't come up with anything more original? I mean...Even I'd be hesitant to insult you considering you could just laser them in half." He said. His smile was almost manic looking.

"What?" You asked, almost dumbfounded. "I would never...I could never." You said. You pulled your chin off your knees, your eyes still narrowed.

"Why couldn't you? You're a Supe...aren't you? I mean...mommy swooping in and bribing administration to take disciplinary action against those little shit stains isn't exactly making you out to be the strongest person..." You almost immediately sat up correctly in your chair.

"She bribed the administration...?" You ask softly. Homelander gave a mock frown as he noticed your eyes become glossy.

"You didn't know? Gosh...How much was she keeping from you?" You swallowed as he spoke and tried your best not to cry. The last person you wanted to look pathetic in front of was Homelander...Especially considering his earlier comment about it not being a good look that your mom always had to swoop in and save you. "Awe..." He started, scooting his chair closer to yours. "Don't cry kiddo...It's not your fault that you're so lost...It's hers." Your eyes met his once again, a tear slipping down your cheek, which you quickly reached up to wipe away.

"Lost?" You ask. Homelander nodded.

"Well, most Supes your age, with your abilities usually already have a professional presence...Or at least know how to use their powers correctly." He said, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "I mean, had I raised you? Had you not been wrongfully stolen from me after you were born? You'd already have a place in the Supe community, followers...maybe even a contract with Vought. You wouldn't just be floating in your own little bubble...You'd have a group. A family." Something in you broke when he spoke. Your mother had stolen you from your biological father? And had he raised you, you wouldn't be so...you? So lonely and misplaced? You couldn't help the tears that slid down your cheeks. It was as if your entire life had been flipped upsidedown.

"She...S-she really kept all that from me?" You asked. Homelander tutted softly, almost pitying you. He stood up and held out his arms.

"Come here, kiddo..." He said softly, with a tone of empty sympathy. You almost immediately stood up and buried your head in his chest. At this point....What else did you have? Who else did you have? He chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around you, his hug firm, considering he was so much larger than you...yet comforting, despite the strange material of his suit.

'It's alright, Y/N...You're right where you need to be. We'll get you up and running with those powers of yours in no time..." He said softly, resting his chin on top of your blonde hair. He caught the reflection of the two of you in the large window that lit the room and his grip tightened, almost possessively. "You're not alone anymore...got it? You've got your dad to keep you company..." You nodded against his chest, sniffling.

"Got it." You responded softly, hugging him a bit tighter. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe Homelander, no, your father was what was best for you. How could you have been living in the dark for so long without realizing it...? You were truly lost. But everything was okay now. You were finally safe, in your fathers embrace.

Homelander smiled wickedly at his own reflection in the window before he rested his cheek on your head. Finally...he had you. His own child that he had been trying to get his bloody hands on for years...Losing another Vought scientist was a necessary sacrifice in the bigger picture of his perfect narrative...and it all started right here. With you. His child. He smiled as he pulled away from the hug, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders.

"How does a milkshake sound, huh? I know Planet Vought has a double chocolate one that's yummers." You smiled and nodded as he moved his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I love chocolate." You said with a small laugh. Homelander chuckled as he turned you towards the door of the meeting room and started walking, his firm hand on your shoulder urging you forward.

"I know."

————————————————————————

I hope ya’ll enjoyed! I left it open for more parts so totally let me know if you’d be interested in reading more. Writing for Homes is always a questionable adventure 💀 Until next time, Adieu!

[hitoshitoshi]

Telekinesis [Caleb x Fem!Reader 18+]

Summary:

Caleb bullies you for hours with his cock.

Or

Caleb puts his Telekinesis Evol to use.

Word Count: 1.3k words.

Tags: Inappropriate use of Evol, Power Dynamics, Consensual Sex, Dom/Sub, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Deepthroating

“Ah, ah, ah, Pipsqueak, don’t even think about it.”

Caleb was so mean — the meanest of the mean. You would think that someone who was part of the Deepspace Aviation Administration would be more put together outside of his work, but you were dead wrong. Because here Caleb was, leaning back on his gaming chair playing games online with his friends, headphones in, with a handsome smirk on his face as he was beating the other team round after round. And where were you? On his lap round after round.

Caleb replied to you, his voice brimming with a hint of condescension, masked with innocence and concern, "Well, Pipsqueak, it's not like you've been moving at all these past few hours. I've been doing that for you so you wouldn't get tired. I wouldn't ever let my darling Pipsqueak ever tire herself out." Caleb pressed his cheek against yours, his breath tickling your ear as he continued, "Plus, I want my Pipsqueak to feel good, yeah? You're gonna feel good for me?"

Your brain was already mush 3 hours ago, 10 rounds in, unable to think a single coherent thought as all you did was just moan and nod in agreement to Caleb's words. You always loved it when Caleb made you feel good. You always wanted to be good for Caleb. You just had to.

Caleb smirked as he gave you one last look before resuming his game, "That's my girl, Pipsqueak, just let your Caleb do all the work".

"Caleb," you whimpered out with your lips against Caleb's neck, tears were in your eyes with copious amounts of cum dripping from your spent pussy, your body moving up and down on his cock as though you were some doll. Well, you were, since Caleb was using his Telekinesis Evol to turn you into his cocksleeve— you looked pathetically ravishing. Just like how Caleb liked you to be. Caleb was so sweet to you outside of bed, yet he was the biggest bully ever in bed.

And you loved it. You loved it when Caleb would be like this to you — you loved being his toy. You loved it when he took control of your body and just let you feel. You loved how he could easily lift you up with his Evol so that only the tip of his cock was still in your pussy, and you loved it when he would drop you back down on his cock so that he would fill you up, so very deeply.

The contrast between the gentle caress of his cheek against yours and the relentless pounding of his cock inside you was driving you wild. Your overstimulated nerves sang with each thrust, each drop, each fill. Your walls clenched around him, milking his cock, your body responding even as your mind floated in a haze of pleasure.

"Look at you, Pipsqueak," Caleb murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "So full of my cum, yet still so hungry for more. Aren't you greedy?" His words were punctuated by a particularly deep thrust that had you seeing stars.

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a breathy whimper. Your fingers weakly clutched at his shoulders, not being able to do anything as you were drunk on his cock. Caleb chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

"Can't even speak, can you? That's okay, Pipsqueak. Your body tells me everything I need to know." His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with unerring accuracy. The touch was almost too much, your oversensitive clit throbbing under his long fingers. As Caleb continued to use his Evol to move you on his cock, his fingers worked your clit in tandem. The dual stimulation had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm, your fifteenth? Twentieth? You'd lost count hours ago.

"Come on, Pipsqueak," Caleb urged, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "One more for me. I know you can do it. Be a good girl and come on my cock." His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, pushed you over the edge. Your vision whited out as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body convulsing in Caleb's arms. You felt him follow you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you, adding to the flood of cum already filling you. As you came down from your high, completely limp as you collapsed right on top of him, Caleb's Evol gently lifted you off his cock. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and bereft. But Caleb wasn't done with you yet.

"Shh, Pipsqueak," he soothed, his hand stroking your hair. "We're not finished. I think it's time we put that pretty mouth of yours to work, don't you?"

Your eyes widened at Caleb's words, a mixture of anticipation and exhaustion coursing through your body. Despite your fatigue, the thought of tasting him, of pleasing him further, sent a thrill down your spine. Caleb's Evol gently maneuvered you, positioning you between his legs. Your face was level with his still-hard cock, glistening with the mixture of your combined fluids. The musky scent of sex filled your nostrils, making your mouth water involuntarily.

"Open up, Pipsqueak," Caleb commanded softly, his hand tangling in your hair.

You obeyed without hesitation, your lips parting as Caleb guided his cock into your mouth. The familiar weight on your tongue, the salty-bitter taste of your mingled cum, had you moaning around him.

"That's it, Pipsqueak," Caleb groaned, his head falling back against the back of his chair. "Use that pretty little tongue of yours. Clean your Caleb up nice and good."

Your tongue swirled around his shaft, lapping up drop of cum on Caleb's cock — peppering sweet and soft kisses on his cock in between kitten-licks. Despite your exhaustion, you found yourself eagerly sucking and licking, driven by an insatiable desire to please him.

Caleb's Evol came into play once more, controlling the bobbing of your head on his cock. The pace was slow at first, allowing you to adjust, but soon picked up speed. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, but you relaxed into it, letting him use your mouth as thoroughly as he had used your pussy.

"Fuck, Pipsqueak," Caleb panted, his grip tightening in your hair. "You're so good for me. Such a perfect little cocksleeve, aren't you? First your pussy, now your mouth. I bet you'd let me use every hole if I wanted to, wouldn't you?"

You hummed in agreement around his cock, the vibrations causing Caleb to buck his hips, driving himself deeper into your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but they were tears of pleasure, of overwhelming sensation.

Caleb's other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. "Look at me, Pipsqueak," he commanded softly. You raised your eyes to meet his, seeing the mixture of lust and affection in his gaze. "That's my girl. So beautiful with your lips stretched around my cock." Caleb's Evol increased the pace, fucking your mouth faster and deeper. You could feel him swelling on your tongue, and knew he was close to another release. Your own arousal built again, your neglected pussy clenching around nothing.

"Gonna cum, Pipsqueak," Caleb warned, his voice strained. "You're going to swallow it all, aren't you? Be a good girl and don't waste a drop."

Moments later, Caleb's cock pulsed in your mouth, flooding it with his cum. You swallowed eagerly, your throat working to take every drop just as he'd commanded. The taste, the feeling of him using you so thoroughly, pushed you over the edge into another unexpected orgasm — you came untouched. As the last waves of pleasure subsided, Caleb gently withdrew from your mouth. Caleb's Evol lifted you once more, moving you to in his arms as he cradling you against his chest.

"Such a good girl for me," Caleb murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "My perfect little Pipsqueak."

A/N: No beta, no proofread, just horny. I just want Caleb to come home.

If you like otome games, including Love and Deepspace, you should join Linkon Lounge! A discord server that's LGBTQ+ friendly (only serving those who are 18+) where we all can share our interests, talk to roleplaying bots (Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus), and have fun game, movie, and stream nights where we stream games and/or cards that we pulled that others want to see. It would be super fun to have you as a member of our server.

Click here to Join Linkon Lounge!

MASTERLIST

[my-castles-crumbling]

tomorrow - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 579 - NSFW

Barty was going insane. Like, clinically losing his mind.

He had been doing fine. Wonderfully, actually. Until, almost twenty-four hours ago, Pandora had stopped dead, looked him in the eye, and said simply, "You and Evan will kiss tomorrow."

And when Pandora said shit like that, she was never wrong.

So now he was going crazy. Questioning his every move and thought and emotion. Did he want to kiss Evan? Did he like Evan? Did Evan like him?

Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe it would be some stupid dare or a spell gone wrong.

But as the hours ticked away and no random truth-or-dare games seemed to be staring, Barty's ruminating mind started adjusting to the thought: either he would kiss Evan or Evan would kiss him.

He looked over at his best friend, who was currently studying at a nearby table, contemplating. Admiring his admittedly nice-looking lips. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to kiss him. Nice, even. He thought about it some more. The way it would feel, for Evan's tongue piercing to run over his own lips, the firm metal bar pressing into his skin. The way Evan's hands might grab his arms or waist.

He shivered. No. It was odd to think of his friend this way. He had to get the idea out of his mind.

But Pandora's words didn't leave him and he began to look at Evan again.

He wondered idly, letting his imagination take over, if Evan might press him against a wall. Suck on his neck and bite him with sharp incisors. Then, of course, he would have to return the favor, flipping them around and sucking into Evan's admittedly-delectable looking collarbone. Only because he started it.

But of course, this was all stupid. Right?

He wished it would just happen already. It would probably just be a stupid peck and he was overthinking things. But now he couldn't stop staring at the little curve of Evan's lips, the perfect color of them, wondering what they looked when they were ravaged and kiss-bitten. He was so caught up in the idea that he didn't notice that Evan had noticed him.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped. "Er..."

"Why are you staring?"

How was he to explain? Oh, Dora said we would kiss and now I'm a bit worked up picturing it even though we're both supposed to just be best friends?

He swallowed. But Evan was looking at him strangely. And as he did so, his tongue, with that fucking piercing, poked out of his mouth, licking over his bottom lip.

Barty snapped.

Jumping up, he nearly flung himself on Evan's lap, connecting their lips together in a frenzy, doing his damndest to make the things he'd been picturing become a reality.

Evan, to his utter joy, responded in kind. Gripped his hips and bit his lower lip hard, soothing over throbbing skin and swallowing Barty's moans.

After several minutes, or maybe perhaps hours, Evan pulled back with wide eyes. "Pandora was right," he mumbled, pushing Barty off his lap and dragging him toward the dorms.

It was only later that Pandora, eyes wide and a grin on her face, said happily. "Oh, I didn't actually mean anything by that. I just wanted to see if you would both get your heads out of your arses if I said it."

[ninyard]

So what do we think about that draft where jean kill himself on the phone with kevin ? Or an au where kevin off himself because he couldn’t handle riko’s and jean’s death?

(coming back from my mini mental health break to drop... this. uuhhh cw for jean kills himself on the phone with Kevin sorry)

-

It was late when Kevin's phone rang, loud enough to startle him from a light sleep, a half enjoyed Exy match still playing on his laptop.

Jean

Kevin paused the video.

Why was Jean calling him at this time of night? He should've been sleeping - No, at practice. Maybe he had just finished. Which schedule was he even on, now?

He pressed the green button to answer, but the feeling of something off came much quicker than any voice that would have followed. Dead air, for a moment too long, an electronic hiss, and Jean didn't speak.

"Hello?" Kevin answered, hearing a movement as he held the phone to his ear. "Jean, did you mean to call me?"

Jean laughed, a weak laugh, short and muffled. "I didn't think you'd actually pick up. That makes this all worse, doesn't it?"

His words were not English, instead French, spoken too loudly to be a secret. Kevin sat up and looked at the time again to make sure it was really as late as he thought it was. Maybe it's nothing, he comforted himself with a lie, a way of ignoring the churning feeling in his stomach that something wasn't quite right.

Jean's breathing was heavy, accompanied with a hum every few seconds, less of a happy sound, more of a struggle to keep quiet in whatever pain he was feeling.

"Why are you calling me?" Kevin whispered, like he might be heard if he didn't speak quietly. "Where is he?"

Jean laughed again, taking an inhale into the deepest parts of his lungs, before he said, "It doesn't matter."

"It does," Jean's uncharacteristic lack of care as to the king's whereabouts worried Kevin - If Riko wasn't with him... Kevin looked at the time again and again, trying to remember Riko's schedule. Why couldn't he remember?

Where was he, and why was Jean alone?

His question came out cautious. "What's going on?"

"Nothing that you can change," Jean's sigh was tired, a dismissal mixed with pessimism and hopelessness. "It's already done."

"What is?"

His heart started to pound in his chest, pushed by the tone of Jean voice, speaking french out loud without a care, no fear in his voice, but something different taking its place; Kevin was afraid, scared of the truth. Jean would never be so careless - so reckless and nonchalant. Something was wrong, so very wrong, and putting two and two together only left Kevin with too many questions and a rope around his chest.

"I hoped you wouldn't answer." Jean's voice cracked as he spoke, and Kevin shut his eyes at the sound. "I'm not even sure why I called in the first place, but ah. Here we are."

"Stop that. Where the fuck are you?"

"Only where i was always going to end up." He laughed, but instead of an awful, awkward sound, behind the laugh was thinly veiled pain. Something hurt. Jean was in pain, and Riko wasn't around, and Kevin started to pace, like he would find the answer somewhere else around the room.

Jean swallowed hard before continuing, "I would ask you how to say goodbye but you're not known to afford such courtesies, are you?"

Kevin stopped. "Goodbye?"

"Ah, so you do know how to say it," The sigh that followed had something behind it, something wistful, something painful, something... final. "Goodbye," he spoke in english, before a shaky inhale brought him back into French. "Are you happy?"

"With what?"

"Everything." His breath blew loudly through the mic of his phone. "With who you are, away from this place. In general, Kevin, are you happy now?"

Kevin hesitated. "Sometimes."

Jean hummed. "Better than never."

"What did you do?"

Jean doesn't respond immediately, and Kevin knew then what he hadn't wanted to know at all. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to assume, but then the sound of a sniffle and a low cry followed, and Kevin felt his heart start to break.

"What did you do, Jean?" He asked again, no louder than a whisper this time, quiet enough that he could hear Jean's whimper as he started to gently cry.

"Will you stay with me?" Jean replied, a swallow in his throat, the phone being placed down somewhere. "I don't want to die alone."

"Let me call someone," Kevin begged. "Why? Why would you- Why? You promised. You promised."

"Be quiet." He pleaded, and Kevin covered his mouth with his free hand. Was this happening? Jean's words were not as angry as his tone would have suggested, instead a soft quiver in his voice, as he tried to hold back the tears that Kevin pictured rolling down his face. "Just stay with me or fuck off and don't let my last thought of you be that you're an insufferable bitch."

Kevin almost laughed.

He almost laughed, knowing what was happening, knowing Jean was fading away on the other line, as he cried, dealing with whatever he'd done to himself, however it was happening.

"Tell me something I don't know," His accented voice was getting weaker with every agonising second that passed. "Talk to me."

Jean knew everything about him, almost everything, so much so that he couldn't think of something new, something that he didn't know. This was his only light in a dungeon of darkness, and that light was fading quicker than he'd left him alone all those months ago. It was not comfort Jean was looking for, but perhaps company, or a presence, just to believe that someone cared, to feel like someone was there at the end of it all. He didn't really want to know Kevin's trivia and fun facts; He said it himself - he didn't want to die alone.

"Don't do this to me," It was all that he could say, a desperate, despaired attempt, no other words meaningful enough to get him to change his mind. "Let me help you."

"You can't," Jean responded. "Not this time."

And Kevin knew that it was the truth.

He thought for a moment. What was he even supposed to do? He thought about calling for help anyway - on the one hand desperate to keep him alive, while on the other hand knowing what would be waiting for him on the other side of survival. There were no scenarios in which Jean would prosper. If Kevin called for help, it would have caused a scene, and he swore he could already hear the cracking of bones under the Master's cane, and the muffled screams that would follow.

Kevin pictured a fate almost worse than death in every attempt to end that night differently; Jean's choice had been made - this was it, and this was his goodbye.

The understanding did not make the reality any easier to digest, though. Instead it sat heavy in his stomach, weighing him down, into the fabric of the sheets he sank back down into.

"I'm sorry," He said. "I've never said that to you before. I wish i never left you."

"I don't," Jean had started to slur his words. "You deserve to be happy. Even just sometimes."

"You do too."

Jean clicked his tongue, but he didn't comment.

Perhaps he knew it was what he deserved, but it had always been more of a mythical concept than anything achievable. He knew what that darkness felt like, the familiar sound of those swirling spirals, the thoughts of can I live like this forever? that fueled the fire to bring him to this point.

The silence on the phone line lasted for an uncomfortable moment too long.

“Jean?”

Jean mumbled his response after another long pause. “Mmm?”

“Tell me something,” Kevin turned his question back on him. “Something that nobody knows about you.”

Jean’s laugh was so weak it could barely be considered a laugh anymore; more an exhale of air with something behind it. “I wanted to be a writer. Before all of this.”

“What would you write?”

Jean thought for a moment. “Poems. Things nobody would ever read. Sometimes…”

Kevin’s heart started thumping again as Jean trailed off into a mumbling silence. “Sometimes..?” He prompted him.

“Hmm?”

“What would you write other than poems?”

“Something for the theatre,” His words were slow and tired. “Something to be… performed.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Ah.” Jean sucked in a long, laboured breath. “Dramas. Something to leave… Mmm-” There’s a dull thud on the other end of the line. He couldn't hold back his quiet groan. “Something…”

“Jean.” Kevin wanted to tell him to be quiet, to wake up, to perk up. He wanted to tell Jean that his joke wasn’t funny and he was waiting for the punchline to come.

“Kevin.” He said, long and drawn out, twice the length it needs to be.

“Did you ever show anyone? Your stories?”

“Only Elodie.” His sisters name rolled off his tongue with a wet, gentle cry. “My actress.”

Kevin thought about her then, not knowing where her brother is, not knowing that he was dying on the other end of the phone.

“Did she like them?” When Jean didn't respond, Kevin raised his voice. “Jean.”

“Mmhmm,” He answered, not much of an answer at all. More of an acknowledgment of his quickly dimming consciousness, a murmur of life to prove he was still there. “Can’t talk much longer.”

“I know.” The painful acceptance left his mouth with a bitterness Kevin couldn't quite describe. “Tell me about her. Elodie.”

“I wish…” Jean spoke through almost shut lips, and Kevin winced at the sound of sleepiness as it started to consume him. “All alone.” He finished a thought he never spoke out loud. “I think… I'm tired.”

“I know.” Kevin said again. “Are you going to sleep?”

There was a struggle in his inhale as he answered, "I think so.”

Fuck. “Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Jean.” Kevin calls. He could still hear his hollow breathing on the other line, but he called his name again when all that followed was silence, “Jean?”

“Mmm?” His breath slowed down to nothing, and Kevin was certain he could hear the slow and irregular ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum of his friends struggling heart.

“I love you.” Kevin said, but he felt sick as the words left his mouth. It felt worthless to him then, an empty promise. Words that should've been said far too long ago. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“Mmhmhm,” Jean hummed in three syllables. "Safe."

And Kevin waited as the silence drew on. He heard it, the final breath that left his lips, the rattle of his breath through lungs too weak to take it.

One second, he counted, and another.

Another, and another, and another, and a million moments passed with nothing but silence and the knowledge of Jean's soul hopefully finding solace in another, brighter place.

He put his phone down, too scared to hang up, and waited for a sign that this wasn't final - waiting for a sign that said this would simply result in a punishment taken too far, that in a months time when Jean's wounds healed he would call Kevin again and apologise for breaking his promise.

Kevin tried not to care about the promise, to not watch the duration of the call going up and up and up with not so much as a peep from the other end of the phone. He tried not to wonder what would happen next - would his parents be informed, would they care? Would they send his body back to France, or would he die, anonymous and insignificant, buried in some American plot of land somewhere, that nobody cared enough about to put a bunch of flowers on top of?

Would the Master call Kevin, would anyone let him know, when they didn't know Kevin had taken another breath after Jean had taken his last?

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ!" The voice on the other end of the phone scared Kevin out of the depth of his thoughts. Was it Zane? He wondered, his finger hovering over the button to end the call, or was it just another voice of a nameless Raven who would forget about this all once the sun rose? "Get the King, tell him it's-"

Kevin hung up before he could hear any more.

The panic attack that followed was not a friendly one - It started slow, but before long, his chest was stuck in a vice, and his heart was prepared to take off. Kevin couldn't hold it in anymore - he cried, choking on the breaths that left his hands numb.

Kevin didn't hear Andrew coming in, but he stood by the door frame, watching, hardly visible through the blurry haze of tears in his eyes. Andrew glanced at the still-lit-up phone screen on the bed beside Kevin, and shut the door gently behind him.

No words were enough.

There's nothing that could be done to make everything okay again, nothing he could hear that that would stop the guilt, and the sadness, and the hurt, that all-consuming hurt.

All Kevin had to offer then, was pain, and bottomless grief, as he held his racing heart while it broke into a million, tiny pieces.

[yuriisclumsy]

Sending in a request for a Genshin or Lout fic! I’ll give you a few prompts you can choose from (you only need to pick one) and write a fic for who you think suits it best!

intuition, obvious, (il)logic, test, levity

((thank you so much and no rush!!)) - @paimonial-rage

Intuition

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2058

[Authors Note]: OMG I'm so sorry guys for the late update! Something went wrong and now is now I figured it out. So here you go! It took me a while to figure this one out, but I managed to get something going. This is a gift for another blog, @paimonial-rage! They do Genshin requests (fanfiction with reader insert) for anyone interested.

»»►Cale has an intuition that [Name] is in danger.

»»►...

»»►What?

»»►That’s all I’m telling you, no spoilers for you!

The high walls of the Roan Kindom’s palace stood the testament of war being waged at its firmament. It had been many a time someone dared to destroy it, but none came close to achieving their goal.

Not when there was a great commander in charge.

In one of the many rooms withholding secrets never to shed light to the world in the palace, stood two esteemed figures; one, bearing the crown, the other, his most trusted friend and sworn-brother.

“Cale, Cale, what will I be without you?” The ever-loved crown prince–now king–asked.

“You’d still be a crown prince fighting to retain the crown, Alberu,” Cale sipped his tea nonchalantly, ignoring the unamused face he was getting.

Alberu sighs from the otherwise boring reaction. “Even after all this time, you’re still trying to piss me off. And here I thought that perhaps marrying that  girl would make you more sensible.”

“Then you guessed wrong, my king,” Cale slightly vowed.

“Stop that.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he gave a polite smile.

Alberu shook his head and let out another sigh. This won’t stop until Cale won, so it was simpler to just surrender. “How is married life going for you?” He took his tea and blew to calm it.

“It's actually going well,” Cale responded, thinking back on his experience so far.

He got married a while ago, two months ago, to be precise. It had been slow, sharing the same room with someone, but they had adjusted just fine ...aside from the fact that his wife moves a bit too much when she sleeps. Cale learned to either build a fortress of pillows that separated them or hug her the whole night–though this option comes with sweat greeting them the next morning.

“I’m still not used to her being in my—our room,” he corrected himself. “And when will you get a wife, huh? Don’t you think the kingdom deserves a queen?”

Alberu threw daggers at him mentally, hoping he’d drop dead where he stood. “Haha…funny.” He placed the cup down on the table where the saucer was. “Although…it would be nice to have someone to share my troubles with,” he looked Cale in the eyes when saying that.

Liar. You want me to ask so I can fix your messes, Cale thought, internally scuffing at the man.

He put in his diplomatic smile. “Oh, but your highness. You always can share your concerns with me, your most loyal subject. I can assure you that even the future queen would agree with me.”

“Ha! You’re a bastard through and through,” Alberu crossed his arms in amusement.

Yeah, right. The only bastard here is you—! Cale’s cup fell lento, as if time had slowed down entirely.

Alberu’s eyes widened in surprise, “Cale, are you okay?” He stared at Cale to see if it was another of his antics but he looked completely still, with his face growing paler by the second. The king shot up thinking of the worst. “Damn it! Is it poison?!” He checked the teapot for any unusual smells.

“No, no,” Cale patted the king, who by now was by his side, to calm down. “I just…had a shiver run down my spine.”

His sworn brother remained silent for a short moment, and then his mouth opened. “If it were a mare shiver, you wouldn't have reacted like that. Cale, I know you. And the you, I know, doesn’t fear much.” He grabbed Cale by the arms, “now tell me, what made you react in such a way?”

“...” Cale looked at him and then at the floor, unsure of what to tell him.

“Cale…” Alberu shook him a little, firming his hold a bit more, to show that he was there if it were something bad.

“*sigh*...I got this feeling…” he paused, inhaling grimly, “that something bad is going to happen to [Name]. But, it’s just a feeling. It’s probably my overthinking, you needn't worry about it.”

Alberu was at a loss for words. Yes, with fame and power, came great danger. But he didn’t think that his friend–his brother-in-arms–would be so unworried for a thought like that.

No… He was more worried about it than he let on.

He released his hold on Cale, straightening himself.

“Alberu?” Cale looked up from the loss of pressure, “did something happen?”

“...You need to go,” he said.

“What?”

“You need to go,” he repeated.

Cale could only stare, not sure why he was saying that. “But…why?” He looked like a small child who had lost their mother in the market and was asking for help from a stranger with a sad look on their face.

“Oh, for heaven's sake…” Alberu’s hands clutched themselves to Cale’s coat, “damn it, you dense donkey! You had a thought about your wife being hurt, you need to go, and make sure she’s in perfect shape like the good husband you are!!"

At this point some of the knights were hearing the commotion inside but dared not intrude on the scolding from a mother to their child, it brought trauma none of them wished to relive.

“So you will stand up,” he brought Cale to his feet, “and go to your wife!!”

And that’s how Cale Henituse, the great commander of the Roan Kingdom, was promptly kicked out and banned from entering the castle until the king received notice of his wife’s safety.

Cale gawked at the castle for a few minutes after that. He looked like a fish out of the water: stupid.

He sighed out of his daze. ��Ron?” He turned to his butler who accompanied him on his trip.

“Yes, young master?” Ron vowed.

“Get me home as fast as you can,” he ordered as he opened the carriage doors and climbed in, shutting the door in the process.

“As you wish, Master Cale,” Ron got up to the carriage’s coachman seat. Taking the leach of the horses, he made a swift movement, and the horses were galloping towards the exit.

The path home was peaceful. Yes, there were a few pours here and there, but that was only for a bit. What could not find rest, was the man inside the carriage.

He fidgeted sporadically, his leg went up and down in impatience, and his eyes fixated on the outside where they could see the slightest glance of his territory's walls. Anything that could calm his unease.

I should have brought Raun with me, or a magic item that could teleport me back faster. He thought of all the things he could have done to fasten the transportation to his manor.

The sight of walls and a flag in the distance made Cale happy.

Home. Alas, he was closer to his wife.

The carriage passed the high gates of the city, not needing to check inside for threats when the man who had saved them plenty of times was inside. The knights saluted as he entered.

Arriving at the manor, he dismounted the carriage walking to the entrance. A few servants waited right outside the door, vowing to greet their master. He stopped just as he passed the doors, making his two trusted butlers look at him: one in worry, and the other in amusement.

“Master Cale?” Hans called. “Is something the matter?”

“...Ron,” he said his butler's name without looking back.

“Yes, Master Cale?”

“Can you do me a favor, and go hunting for a few loud quails?” He said.

Ron smirked. “As you wish, Master Cale,” he vowed before turning and leaving the manor.

“Quails?” Hans asked, “But we already have plenty of them.” His eyes widened, “please don’t tell me what I think that is referring to…”

Cale continued to the gardens where he knew his wife would be. “Don’t worry about Hans. You’re not the one getting their hands dirty with animal feathers,” he said with a smile.

“Please don’t smile when you say that…” he looked nauseous.

…

The wind blew swiping and budging any object its strength could move. The wind chime followed the rhyme of the calm breeze as it passed through. Soft humming that sounded like they belonged to a fairy filled the air of the manor’s garden. It came from the lady of the house; a beautiful and delicate flower, who married the lout son of the family.

She lowered herself to be a few inches from the bed of flowers planted for her by her husband's wishes;.He planted them for her happiness; she loved flowers as much as she loved him. 

Her hands lifted a white tulip, her eyes observed its color and physique. “You have grown from the last time I saw you,” she songily whispered. “Cale would be happy to see you like this.”

People often gossiped how, in their eyes, she took care of the plants like if they were her children. Yet, they know not that these small greeneries are as alive as any other living creature. They can call her crazy all they want, for she already found someone that loves her. Even if he did find this fixation of hers a little odd.

“Happy to see who?” a voice asked from behind.

Her head turned to see who it was that questioned her, but her smile made it clear that she knew who it was that asked.

“Cale,” she said his name, love surrounded his name. She stood up to greet her one and only husband. “You’re back so soon, I thought you said you would be in the capital for 10 days.”

“Something came up for the king, so I decided to come back,” Cale embraced her warmth. She smelled like the flowers she loved.

She returned the hug by wrapping her arms around him, “you missed me that much?”

“Shut up,” he scuffed and let go of her.

She giggled in response. “Hehehe, didn’t you though?” her eyes met his, “you missed your wife so much, that you came running here.”

“As if. I had no other business in the capital other than meeting with his majesty.” Excuses. His wife could tell. He might think that he's not that easy to read, but for her, he was like a poster in a billboard right in the public's eyes.

“Sure, sure…I believe you.”

“No, you don’t, [Name].”

“Yes I do!” She pouted.

“Master Cale,” Ron made himself known as he walked towards them.

“Ron!” [Name] ran to the old butler. “Ron, won’t you agree that Cale came back so quickly because he loved his wife so much, he couldn't spend a single day more in the capital?” She asked, dramatizing the whole thing to embarrass her husband.

Ron had the smile only a demon could have when they had their enemies greatest weakness.

“Don’t you dare,” Cale warned.

“Oh, but I must agree with Lady [Name],” he closed his eyes, “The young master whined the whole way here. “Oh, how I wish I was next to my wife. My sweet, and beautiful, [Name]...”” Ron was mocking him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Damned old man…

“I see, I see…” she nodded along. She was enjoying this far too much.

“Okay, that’s it,” he stepped towards them and grabbed her by the arm, “we’re leaving.”

“Awe, if you wanted to have me all to yourself you can always ask,” [Name] placed a hand on her check, cooing at Cale.

“Why did I marry you?”

“Because you love me!” She gave him the happiest smile she had; the same one she had on their wedding day; the same one she had when he asked her to marry him; the same one she had when he pronounced his love. It was her normal smile.

“...” Cale had a blush on his face. He caught the smug smile from Ron, and that just made him instantly frown, ruining the beautiful moment. “Let's go,” He continued to pull her along. She giggled at his antics.

“Oh, Ron?” he halted.

He smiled, “Yes, young master?”

“Did you finish your hunt?”

Ron’s smile widened. “Yes. We’ll be having 6 quails for dinner.”

“Great,” he resumed his pace.

“Wait, I thought it was beef for dinner today.”

“That too.”

“???”

Fin

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Master-List

[tojiwrd]

thinking about shitty bf toji and ...

► toji would be so sweet at the beginning — not like, bringing you flowers every date n shit no. this man lives for the little ways to show u that he loves you i.e stopping in his tracks when you abruptly reach down to tie your laces in public when they untie, noticing how your face wash is running out, so he buys a new one when he goes to the store and the night after you run out and make a note to get a new one, you wake up n see that a brand new one is sitting next to the sink.

► but i also feel like toji is so ... difficult sometimes bc while he doesn't give you grand displays of affection and rarely ever tells you that he loves you, you know he does. but sometimes you need him to say it, and you need him to not untangle your intertwined fingers when you're walking together because he doesn't like showing affection in public.

► that would be a-okay if he did it in private, but he doesn't. two years or so into the relationship, you begin realizing that toji isn't truly yours to love because his heart lies in the cold hands of his ex-wife. he doesn't talk about her with you, but the times he did, he always claimed he was completely over her, that she's dead and nothing can be done.

► it should've been enough because he let you into his home and let you be a part of his bigger picture. he let you take care of megumi and play mother to him, but when toji hears sweet little megumi call you 'mom,' toji flips.

"toji, please," you said, trying to reason with him though it seemed all your attempts proved to be futile because he seemed as though he was wearing noise-cancellation headphones the way he barely looked at you while seething in anger.

he shook his head as if he was processing every single thought that crept into his mind. "how long have you been letting 'gumi call you that?" you moved your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "don't fucking lie."

"this was the first time, i swear." truth. "toji, he's a kid."

"i know," he said, exasperation coating his voice. "i fucking know, y/n, that's why i don't need you making him think you are his mother."

you shouldn't have been surprised because yes, you weren't megumi's mother. but you were surprised because you went to megumi's school events and drove him to his friends' houses, you joined the parents' friend group and raised money for school fundraisers because toji asked you to, and you ironed megumi's clothes and made sure to place him on his chair every night so he wouldn't have to worry about his uniform before school.

"no matter how many times you cook for megumi or play mother at his conferences, you aren't. stop giving him the wrong impression."

"i know." you couldn't say anything else.

"you aren't his mother." he struck a blow. "you aren't even my wife." the tears began building up behind your closed eyes, but he continued. "i don't want you to be my wife. you're not a part of this family the way you think you are."

[liveontelevision]

Suffer Pt. 5 | Lucifer x Reader

Hoof this one was a doozy. I struggled with it a little, there's a lot going on so :') Apologies in advance if there's any confusion. BUT EITHER WAY, it's here! 🎉

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

No CW! Just angst and plot!

♡♡♡

Things didn't feel out of place at first. Sure, Alastor's little stunt definitely left you shaken, but afterward it seemed that everything returned to normal. While the hotel was refurbished and had made a name for itself, it was still a struggle to get any more residents in. So things eventually went back to how they were. The only difference was Lucifer deciding to stay in the hotel, but even that.. seemed unimportant? Was that the word?

It was the strangest thing, any time you'd step outside and see the sparkling, apple ornamented tower, you'd mentally remind yourself to go say hi. Or those occasions where you'd pass Lucifer in the hallway, you'd say something about catching up or even trying to see eachother again.

Just call me!

You never got any calls, though. Any texts you sent weren't replied to. And for some strange reason, you'd rarely see Lucifer. You never really considered how much work he'd have to do, but it must be a lot for him to not even answer your calls. Or maybe he was avoiding you? You hoped that wasn't the case. You did your best to not think about it, or else you'd spiral into everything that you might've done wrong. That being said, in these brief passages, he still seemed so kind to you. Maybe you were overthinking things..

When he was comfortable enough, he would come down to the lobby and become the life of the party. He'd join everyone for drinks, crack ridiculous jokes, and generally just show off to appease his audience. You noticed he was never really looking at you, on these nights. And when you'd say something to him, respond to some joke he made, he'd look your way but wouldn't respond or he'd outright ignore you. And for everyone else, it seemed to go completely noticed. No one thought it strange for Lucifer to completely overlook you.

Your romantic dalliances weren't spoken of, but it was clear that you two were essentially inseparable at some point. Before the hotel reopened. It hurt. You tried so hard to convince yourself it was just him being busy, but fuck it still hurt.

Maybe I should confront him.

You thought about that ages ago, and no matter how easy that sounds, he really was nowhere to be found. Even at the dead of night when everyone's asleep and your nightmares, which have come back in full force, are keeping you awake; You'd go to him, but even his bedroom seemed vacant.

Thank god you weren't alone. You had your truest friend, Alastor, ready to comfort you whenever you needed it. He suggested you start listening to his nighttime broadcasts again, and as usual, he was right. It became a comforting sensation when your bed was feeling empty. He knew that Lucifer would hurt you again and he warned you multiple times. You should've just listened.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Al, I just.. I feel so stupid. I should've listened to you in the first place. I don't know what I did wrong, I thought I - that maybe we were.." After an especially long night, your willpower to hold back any tears had been exhausted. A puffy-eyed, sniffling, mess, Alastor lets you lean into his side as he embraces your entirety quite easily with his lengthy limbs. You both sat at the edge of your bed, him brushing hair from your face and occasionally cooing you and hushing you.

"No need to apologize, darling, I'm only worried for your wellbeing. But it was probably for the best, I'm glad it came to an end before it got too serious, hm?" As he went on, it only left you bursting into tears again. Things had become serious. If only he knew.. maybe he should know. You can trust him, it's just Alastor after all. You were so restless and drunk, you were desperate for comfort. You told him everything.

"Well! Isn't that..! Something.. " He clears his throat once he sees your expectant, tearful eyes. "Oh, my poor thing. You've been through it all, haven't you?" He pulled you even closer as he spoke, you shifted to your side and leaned into his chest. He fully comforted you in an embrace that was very needed.

"I just don't understand-" He shushes you before you can go on.

"Don't you worry. I'll be here for you, right to the end." You were too exhausted to question his phrase, suddenly feeling the weight of your eyelids pulling your eyes closed.

"Stay- please.. stay..." Your voice was hardly a whisper, as you gripped onto his coat that was already stained with your tears. He nodded, and before you knew it, you were curled up in his arms. Your head resting against his chest felt softer than your own pillows at that moment. He draped your beloved sweater over your shoulders as you muffled more depressing thoughts into his chest. He began to hum some song, one you recognized from the radio. The tone was low and comfortable, the vibrations from his chest, forced a shaky yet relaxed sigh from your lips. He continued to comb through your hair, and maybe if you were sober and alert, you could recognize the sensation of a subtle kiss on the top of your head.

-

The next morning, Lucifer finds himself sitting at his fancy new desk, a small amenity in the upgrade of a workshop he had received. He moved to the hotel for one reason only; to be closer to Charlie, and help her no matter what's in store. And maybe, another perk is being closer to you.. That’s just a plus, though. Focus on your priorities, Lucifer.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he tossed whatever papers he was holding to the side and leaned back in his chair. Resting his eyes on the ceiling with his head tilted back, the quiet of the room seemed to help clear his mind. For a minute. Then, all he could think of was your sweet voice, scolding him for leaving any marks on you during your little "meet-ups". He would do it on purpose, just to see you flustered. With a nervous hand around his neck, he feels himself gulp at the thought. He had gone centuries without being touched like that and seemed content. But remembering the feeling of your hands running across his chest.. How could just the thought work him up?

"Maybe, I should.. ugh, no! Who am I kidding?” With a flustered curse, he kicked his chair out and began to circle his room.

"Maybe I should go talk to her! Yeah! But.. she's not answering your calls.. so, maybe.. she wants to talk in person..? That's it! Or.. no... Maybe I should wait.. I shouldn't wake her up so early in the morning.. or should I even be going to her? What if she needs space? What if I don't give her that and then I-I ruin it? Again??" He continues this panicked conversation with himself for a while, battling the decision to just go and profess an undying love that even he might be overthinking.

Fuck it.

He fills his lungs with air before walking straight up to your door, fist ready in the air to knock. Sure it was early, he knew you liked to sleep in a little longer than this. It even made him question again whether or not he should just wait for -

The door swings open, with Lucifer's fist still in the air.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

"Ahh! Another visit from Our Majesty! I'm afraid she's rather exhausted after all the drinks- and crying- from our previous night together, so I would suggest you go elsewhere." Alastor stood in the door frame, blocking the entirety of your room from Lucifer. Even peeking to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of you, Alastor stepped in his way.

"Don't do this, Alastor. I only want to- wh- did you say crying? " He had a whole rant he was about to read off about how inappropriate Alastor was, toying with your feelings somehow, and how he didn't trust him one bit.

"This was good timing, actually! I'm assuming this belongs to you? I found it in the parlor room a while ago. Since it was the same night as your little.. visit.. with our friend- I assumed that it was your doing." Alastor interrupts any other thoughts that Lucifer might have and raises a.. corset. With silky ribbons for laces.

"It's certainly not your style, but to each their own, I suppose!" The belt hangs off one of his fingers as he speaks, swinging it back and forth playfully. Lucifer reaches forward and takes it with both hands, squeezing and turning it in a tight grip.

"I don't know what twisted game you're playing, you slimy prick." Lucifer hovers off his feet, his wings flapping out and keeping him at a height tall enough for him to pull Alastor up by his collar. They share an intimidating set of snarling, pointed teeth at each other. "But if you're doing anything to hurt her, I swear -" 

Alastor holds up a finger to his mouth and shushes him. Did he really just shush the king of hell? Before Lucifer had a chance to raise a flaming fist at Alastor's infuriating smile, a muffled groan came from inside your room. With a blink, his previously reddened glowing eyes returned to their usual hue. He made no effort to comfortably drop Alastor, forcing him to land on the ground with a thud.

His other demonic features disappeared as he reached for the entrance of your room, already seeing you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. But something stopped him. Something ominous. Something.. forbidding. It felt like a barrier that weighed heavy on him just by looking in your general direction.

Lucifer stumbled backward at the overwhelming sensation. Catching his breath, he blinked his eyes to their inverted ruby hue, again. He didn't use this often, but on occasion, there were some evils in the world that even he couldn't comprehend without thorough examination. He stood in awe at what he saw. Your room was fumed with some glowing green haze, it was impossible to see anything inside. And good lord, it smelled awful. Covering his mouth and nose, he looked over at Alastor, who was still recovering from being thrown to the ground.

"What did you do..?" His voice was layered with growls, an inhuman filter that forced flames from his lips as he spoke. Alastor's only response was a casual chuckle, he stood and brushed his coat off.

"It's simply a precaution. Just taking care of my dear friend."

"Aaal- shut the door it's too bright..!" You called out, pulling the sweater over your head with a groan.

"Speaking of - it’s best you keep your distance, your highness. I'd hope you have her best interest in mind." You shout Alastor's name one more time, the sound of your voice making Lucifer's heart drop. Even when it was some bastard's name, he missed hearing your voice. 

"Coming! My love-" With a final sinister grin, Alastor carefully shuts himself inside your room. Doing who knows what. Twisting and turning the returned corset in his hands, he let his head droop to examine the accessory. He recalled how it looked on you, in that pretty little dress, how it hugged your curves. Then the actions that led to you removing it.

With a flustered groan, Lucifer finally gave up. He returned to his quarters without another word. He would've torn Alastor to shreds right then. But so many things told him not to. He was helping Charlie, and he had no idea how he would explain to his daughter why he was torn piece by piece and fed to some sinners in Cannibal Town; a plan he considered in the heat of the moment. He hated to remind himself of another factor; he was close to you, as well. That made things much worse.

"What was all that noise?" You grumbled, sitting up and clawing at your aching head. Letting out a pathetic groan, you fall back against your bed and lift the sweater to cover your still-straining eyes. Pulling the collar to your nose, you took in another intoxicating breath.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, dear. Are you feeling well enough to finally attend that 'lunch date' you've been avoiding?" You sigh in response to his question, shrugging your shoulders.

"Yeah, I haven't seen Rosie in a while. That could be nice.. and shut up, I haven't been avoiding it.. just been busy.." your voice was muffled by the knit over your nose. With a sweet sigh, Alastor hovers over you, lightly tugging your face free.

"I'm so sure. I'll come find you once you're ready." He said it so gently, fiddling with your hair and staring deeply into your eyes. He reveled in the sight of you turning red by his words. You nod your head, watching him fade into the inky shadows in the corner of your room.

You finally started to wake up, yawning, stretching, doing anything to ease your tired mind. You looked through your phone again, still no new messages. That didn't seem to bug you as much as it would've a few days prior. You focused on the fun activities you had planned for the day. Rosie never failed to cheer you up.

You just had to keep going. You couldn't let some silly fling stop you from enjoying your eternal damnation. Or from trying to be redeemed. Alastor's voice was constantly in your head. Any doubts you’d have, you'd recall his words: It was probably for the best.

-

You did your best to move on, but what especially helped you through these trying times? Drinks. You were drinking almost every night at this point. It would be a real problem if you were actually able to die. It wasn't so bad when you had some of the other demons join you, it was easier to keep your mind off of.. certain things when you would hear Angel talking about how shitty his day was and going into painful detail, or when Charlie was going on about some passion project. She somehow manages to talk more after a few drinks.. you didn't realize that was possible. But you still loved her either way. You owed her so much, after everything you've put her through. That's what you were thinking when you weren't drinking at least. All those thoughts went away after a few shots.

A golden drink slid into your hand with a sudden stop, causing some of its contents to spill over your fingers. With a quiet curse, you run your tongue across your knuckles. Clearly not noticing the pair of eyes that have been on you the whole night, you down yet another round of drinks from Husk. It was you, Charlie, and Vaggie just having a little nightcap after you had gone out with Alastor to see Rosie. It was a nice little catch-up, even if it consisted of Charlie droning on about something you didn't have the strength to listen to.

Oh, and not that you would have noticed, but Lucifer sat across the bar from you. He couldn't keep his damn eyes off of you. For some reason, that strange barrier was weaker and he’s finally getting the chance to see you, really see you, for the first time in weeks.

You rest your cheek on the counter, listening to Charlie get into a passionate rant about something that would help the hotel. Every now and then, Lucifer would have to break his eye line from you to nod and smile at whatever Charlie could be going on about. He could care less right now.

"Dad. Dad!" A sudden shaking of his shoulder forced his attention to Charlie. An immediate guilt washed over him, as he clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Were you even listening..? Doesn't matter.. I guess.. but, Alastor’s gonna join us, so can you.. play nice? Pleease? I'd love for you guys to get along.." She whispered in his direction, her questioning finally bringing his attention to a casually seated radio demon who appeared at the barstool just next to yours. He looked back to Charlie, with an agitated expression.

"I-I don't know, sweetie, maybe I should just head back-" Ready to drop everything, he watched Alastor run a hand down your back, you let out a little groan in response. You sat up, stretching your arms upward then turning to Alastor.

You smile exhaustedly, greeting him with a quiet hum. You then attempted to beckon another drink from Husk. As the bartender slid it your direction, a hand came up and quickly stopped the glass before it could reach you. Alastor held the drink upward, just out of your grasp. 

"I'm sure you're having fun, dear, but I believe it's about time you head to bed." Alastor says. He lifts the drink farther away from you, watching you lean forward in a sad attempt to take it back. With a sigh of defeat, you nod, taking hold of his now extended arm to stumble off the barstool without falling flat on your face.

"No, wait!" Lucifer practically shouts, he pushes himself away from the bar, ready to sweep you off your feet. To save you. That dreaded smog had reappeared with Alastor's presence. But assessing the newfound silence in the room, everyone turning to him for some kind of explanation of his actions, he caught Charlie's eyes. They were confused and worried. He quickly clears his throat, straightening his posture.

"Alastor, buddy! You just got here, why don't you stick around and chat or talk about your feelings or something? I can take her to bed no problem!" He says smoothly, nudging Charlie with his elbow at the mention of talking about feelings. That seemed to work. She agreed, clarifying that as long as you got to bed safe then, she'd love to have Alastor stay and chat.

"Ahahah, I do believe she'd be more comfortable with me taking her away. We've become rather close, truly a relationship I cherish!" That also seemed to work. Charlie was a sucker for the idea of Alastor developing any sort of positive relationship.

"Are you sure about that, pal? Maybe she just needs -" Lucifer is determined, he speaks with clenched teeth, struggling to ever consider him a “pal”.

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I doubt she'd want your help. After everything you've done to her." He hissed out his words, willing to say anything to get a rise out of Lucifer. Oh, and that definitely did it. How much could he possibly know? Lucifer had no problem with you confiding in a friend about.. everything.. But him? And for him to have the audacity to mention anything in front of Charlie? Lucifer was ready to put him six more feet under the ground.

"Dad..? Is- uhh.. everything okay? What's Alastor talking about?" Charlie was quiet, almost nervous to ask any questions. Luckily, before she could worry about that, she got distracted by something else. A little tune you were singing. It wasn't a hum like it's been all these years. You slurred out a recognizable song, as Alastor continued to take you up the stairs. A tune that immediately made Charlie go quiet.

"I-I know.. I know that song...Holy shit, Vaggie!" Charlie frantically grabs her partner’s arms and shakes her vigorously, a pent-up excitement forcing a smile from her.

"Ah, it was so long ago, but - she.. kind of raised me, didn't she?" Charlie forgot who she was with for a moment, quickly swiveling her chair to face Lucifer.

"Dad! What was her job? At home, I mean- I can't believe I've never asked that.. what did she do?" Lucifer caved to her questions, Charlie's pure adrenaline shocking him.

"W-Well, I uh.. she was.. " He finally let out a sigh. "You're right, she did raise you. I mean.. for a few years, at least. Then- uhm! That's it! Then she left for some reason." This was no place for big confessions. Everyone had something to drink, and you weren't even sober enough to stand on your own two feet. We'll get to it later.

-

Alastor was near your room, still treating you with as much tender love and care as usual. You continued your familiar tune, giggling and hiccuping as you struggled to walk. He eventually swept you off your feet, causing your flushed face to turn even redder. Finally entering the safety of your room, you were carefully tossed into your bed. Sweet Alastor took the time to conjure up your coat from wherever you had left it, draping it over your shoulders yet again. You held onto it, gripping the sleeves and smoothing the plush material through your fingers, then smiled at Alastor.

“Come here, please.” You said softly, moving over to have him sit at the side of your bed. He did so without a complaint, propping himself up with his hand against your blankets and leaning towards you with his usual smile. “You're always so sweet to me, Al.” You slur your words, placing your hand overtop of his and leaning in with a content hum.

“Anything for you, love. I've enjoyed your company just as much.” His voice didn't hold its usual static filter, allowing you to appreciate his natural tone. You've never heard it before. The idea of him trusting you with this side of him caused an ache in your stomach. You sat up, the sweater hanging loosely off your shoulders as you climbed towards him with a glazed-over look in your eyes.

Alastor had a suspicion that you felt some sort of romantic attraction to him. Even with his charm and wits, he wasn't prepared to feel your lips meeting his. He could taste the drinks you had been downing all night and made the slightest effort to lean away from you. It went unnoticed, as you hummed into the kiss, moving even closer to him to cup his cheeks and keep his attention on you.

You were aching for this sort of attention. And unfortunately, your strength to suppress this underlying feeling for him just wasn't there at that moment. He reached forward, brushing your hair away from your neck and placing his hand on your shoulder. He couldn't let this go on. For several reasons. He shifted his hand from your shoulder to pull your sweater back up, then gently pushed you away. 

“I-I’m sorry..” You were hot to the touch, your heated skin becoming worse just from sheer embarrassment. You leaned back, quickly wiping some tears that had welled in the moment.

“It’s.. alright, dear. No need to be embarrassed. I simply haven’t felt.. that way, in quite a long-” A loud crackle interrupted the awkward moment, coming from the radio on your nightstand, and just quietly from his own lips. The sound had you reeling away, your hands pressed against your ears in shock. His own ears shot back, a twitch in his eye showing his own pained reaction.

“A-Alastor? Are you okay? Did I do something?” You stammered out your concerns, seeing a line of his blackened blood drip from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it free before examining it on his thumb and letting out a scoff. He sighed, keeping his eyes off of you as he left your bed.

“Al, you're bleeding..! Maybe you should lay down, or.. or, I-I don't know-” You scrambled off your bed to follow him, taking a hold of the back of his coat to keep him from leaving. He spun on his heels, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I'll be just fine. If you want my honesty, I seem to have made a minor error is all.” His voice was laced with static again, he ran his hand up your shoulder to your neck, then delicately kept your head lifted towards him by your jaw.

“W-What do you mean? Will you be okay?” You asked nervously. He seemed to be examining you, his eyes scanning over your entirety.

“I'll be fine. How are you feeling, love?” He sounded nervous, a shock to you.

Alastor did in fact make a mistake. In his attempt to rile Lucifer up just moments ago, he indirectly disclosed some information about your past. Charlie now knew what you were.

The deal was that Charlie wouldn't find out about your previous job and Alastor would do anything in his power to keep that from happening. In exchange, you owed him a favor. He doomed himself, really. The mention of your history with Lucifer and coaxing the lullaby from your drunken rambles, made Charlie connect the dots. With a poorly made deal, no written contacts, or souls on the line, some loopholes can cause the whole thing to fall through. But, Alastor's never had issues before, he's incredibly careful, even with the smallest exchanges.

The idea of him losing any composure and having it cost him, forced labored breaths from him. Now that Charlie knows, your owed favor is no longer valid. Your favor of staying away from the king. But now, that sickening barrier that had been surrounding you all this time was broken.

You didn't realize what it was, but you did feel that something was off. Like a headache that's been ignored for too long suddenly hitting you. You groan, running a hand through your hair and slipping away from Alastor's grasp. And you're not the only one who felt the deal break at that moment.

-

Lucifer could feel the environment in the hotel change. It was like a cool, refreshing breeze hit his face, finally clearing out a pesky scent that had been lingering since the hotel was refurbished. He assumed it was just due to the new renovations.. But after connecting this newfound clarity to the musk that's surrounded Alastor - surrounded you - since the extermination day battle, he was anxious to find you. He quietly muttered your name under his breath with wide eyes. Finally slipping from his seat, he rushed to your room immediately.

“Dad!” Charlie was one step ahead, standing up and blocking Lucifer who wasn't even trying to conceal his eager pursuit. He shrunk in front of her, finally realizing his wings had sprouted from his back and had swept a few bottles off the shelves. “What's going on? You've been acting strange ever since you moved in, and I'm-” Charlie was nervously fiddling with her hands, looking over to Vaggie for a reassuring smile. “-I'm worried. About you. And.. our guest..?” His eyes widened, fear running through his veins.

Charlie was smart. She may have the princess bleeding-heart thing going for her, but seeing you and him get along so well always made her the slightest bit uneasy in the back of her mind. After you started drinking more, going out on the town with Alastor again, and generally seeing Lucifer less, she realized something had happened. And this strange behavior from him wasn't helping your case.

“Charlie, don't worry! We’re friends! And I'm worried about her because of all the drinking and the.. uhh.. Anyway, no need to worry about that! I bet she’s fine now..! But I better head to bed, long night, just uh- really tired, yeeah.” He stammered through his words, throwing in a fake yawn, then leaping with the assistance of his wings to pat the crown of Charlie's head. He started off again, making sure to take his time and not cause another scene.

“Dad, wait!” With a frustrated groan, Charlie is left clutching her face in his hands. With a deep breath, she smooths her hair back and puts on a wry smile to face Vaggie. “I think he loves her, Vaggie.”

-

Spreading his wings as soon as he's out of view, he rushes to your room. It was so much easier to sense where you are now. How could he not notice? It felt like hundreds of memories were flooding back into his mind. Memories of passing you in the hallway while he ignored you, writing texts but never sending them, hearing you talk to him but never responding. He went from constantly longing for your presence, to just.. nothing. But now, it's all back. All the pining had finally erupted And he needed you- to see you- immediately.

“I'm sure you just drank a bit too much tonight, go on and rest and I'll be sure to-” Alastor couldn't even finish his sentence before your door was sprung open. You were sure the force broke your lock with its intensity. 

Alastor panicked. You've never seen him panic before. He attempted to fade into his slimy shadows and slip through the darkest corner of the room, but Lucifer quickly put a stop to it, stomping his heel into the black trail before it could disappear. An ear-piercing screech came from all corners of the room. You gasped at the sight, watching Alastor materialize back to his usual self. He laid on your floor, clutching onto the almost forgotten wound on his chest that had been stressed by Lucifer's heel.

“Al!” You stumble off the bed and onto your knees, hovering your hands over him but not quite touching him, like you were nervous he’d break. You watched blood pool and stain his shirt as he hisses at the reopened slash. “Hey, hey, it's okay..! It's um- you'll be okay..!” Your shaky reassurance did little to ease his pain. If anything, he felt ridiculed. Another embarrassing defeat. You helped him at least sit up and lean his back against your dresser.

“Lucifer, what the fuck! what are you even doing in here?” You scolded, still seated at Alastor's side. You looked up at his demonic figure, your anger suddenly replaced with a suppressed and unwanted attraction. You shake your head of any longing thoughts. “He's hurt. You have to help him.” You say, finally breaking your strained eye contact.

Lucifer is cringing at the sight. You were seated close to Alastor's injured form, an arm around his back and a hand resting on his own, helping to compress the wound. You were wearing his sweater, your eyes brimming with tears at the sudden intrusion. Lucifer hated the way you were looking at Alastor, with concern and genuine worry. Lucifer looked into his hands as if he had blood on them. And if you weren't there, that certainly would've been the case.

With a deep breath, his horns, halo, wings, and tail all subdued, leaving a very disheveled Lucifer avoiding eye contact out of shame. He kneeled down, still slightly disgusted by the smell that lingered around the radio demon. Moving Alastor’s coat aside, he presses his clawed hands against the blood stain. He admittedly put more pressure than he needed to, but if he could cause him even the slightest discomfort right now, that would keep his bloodlust at bay. A golden light glistened from beneath his hand, forcing a hiss from Alastor's forced smile.

“Jeez, this wound is from an angelic attack.. a strong one too. What have you been up to, Bambi?” Lucifer tried his hardest to keep a light tone, but despite his casual words, his unenthused frown was very apparent.

“It was Adam. before you came to the battle, Al got hurt. Bad. I.. we all thought he was dead.” You explained softly. You seemed much more put together than before, the fear from this whole ordeal clearly sobered you up. Your lip quivered and you held in a shaky breath, that was only released when you felt Alastor hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Was he doing this just to piss Lucifer off? Because it was working. Lucifer did his best to focus on his healing. It took a while to even stop the bleeding, but maybe he was doing that on purpose as well. Admittedly, he could have healed him with a snap of his fingers, even cleared that nasty scar, but he didn't. Alastor didn't deserve that in Lucifer's mind.

After just a few minutes, you were helping Alastor to sit up, and then eventually to his feet.

“Do you need to lay down? You can stay here tonight, I'll find somewhere else to sleep- or I can help you to your room if you need it..” you were shushed by his hand waving any assistance away.

“I'll be alright, love, no need to worry. I am a bit tired, though.. I wouldn't mind resting here for-” A whirring sound interrupts Alastor's words and draws both of your attention to a portal that leads into his room.

“..Right. Very helpful.” Alastor muttered, still using you as a brace as he approached the portal. He didn't need the help, he felt fantastic, actually. But he’s still having his fun, enjoying the pure jealousy coming from Lucifer. He lifts your hand and presses his usual subtle kiss onto your knuckles.

“You sure you'll be okay?” You ask softly, helping him step over the boundaries of the portal. He hums, then gives a quick nod. “And?” You add. He looks at you confused, before noticing your subtle nudging towards Lucifer. Alastor lets out a quiet groan and rolls his eyes. 

“I suppose I owe you a thanks, your highness. Just watch your step in the future.” Alastor says smugly. Having seen more than enough of him tonight, Lucifer shuts the portal without another word. 

The room is silent, but the air is clear. Lucifer breathes in, only catching the faintest musk of the sweater you were wrapping yourself in. It was still a relief. Reality hits him and he finally rushes towards you, his hands placed on your shoulders with a worried expression.

“Are you okay? Good golly, I missed you.. did he do anything to hurt you? How do you feel?” He questioned you frantically, scanning your entire body with his darting eyes, but you reeled away from his touch.

“What do you mean miss? We live under the same roof. You could have talked to me at any time if you just-” You let out a sigh, relieving some of the agitation in your tone. 

“Thanks for helping Al.. And I guess I missed you, too. Wherever you’ve been.” You muster a smile that's more genuine than you were expecting. You didn't have the same ability to sense the deal or the repellent that Alastor had drenched you in all these months. So to you, Lucifer had gone from your closest friend to ignoring you, then suddenly attacking the only other demon who was comforting you. It was all so confusing. And he was about to make it worse.

With a quick motion, Lucifer had you pulled into an embrace. It was tight and comfortable. You could feel his hands flexing and tightening on your back and waist, his breath just grazing the base of your neck. You didn't pull away. Not yet. You would never admit how good this felt, how much you missed his arms around you. Lucifer shifted his position to cradle the back of your head, hastily and thoughtlessly pressing a kiss to your lips. With a surprised yelp, you shove him backward.

“No! This is too much! You can’t just waltz in here and save the day, and expect things to go back to how they were! If this was all just a fling, finishing off the mistake we made years ago, then you should've made that clear from the beginning!” Your voice started cracking with each statement, tears falling as you spoke. “You've done enough, Lucifer. Don't make this harder for me.” You look away, still avoiding his touch when he goes to swipe your tear-stained cheek.

“No! That's not what's happening at all! That prick did something to you, I'm just trying to-” He stops himself midsentence, seeing the startled look on your face from the sudden outburst. He steps away, clutching his hands in front of him. “I'm sorry, I-” 

“No. You have to go, now. Before I change my mind.” You interrupt. He looks at you, slightly red in the face. With a final nod, he snaps a portal to his workshop and leaves your room silently. Falling to your knees, finally alone, your body only responded with quiet sobs. Too much had gone on for you to process the entire evening and you were in pain even attempting to do so. Before curling up in your bed, your radio was turned back on. Playing its usual tunes, you were at least calmed enough to drift to sleep.

-

Looking vacantly at his office, Lucifer sat down at his desk. He brushed his fingers against his lips, the inappropriately timed kiss from earlier suddenly hitting his consciousness. He let out an embarrassed groan into his hands. As he composed himself with a sigh, he noticed something strange. Smacking his lips together he finally recognized a foul taste in his mouth. It was his doing, Alastor’s scent, coming from your lips. The indirect sensation made it clear that Alastor had his hands on you in more ways than Lucifer had considered.

-

Another restless night went by, filled with its usual nightmares. You were woken up with your usual hangover and struggled to get ready for the day. As you dressed up, and went through your usual routine to prepare for the day, your memories of the previous night flooded your mind. You got drunk, then Alastor took you to your room, you kissed him, then Lucifer came and- 

You kissed Alastor.

“Fuck!” You shouted to yourself, letting your head fall onto your vanity at the realization. You have got to stop doing that. The rest of the night came through afterward, Lucifer's sudden appearance and affection causing you even more distress. You swear, one more nuisance and you'll have a breakdown. A knock on your door, followed by it opening a crack, and forcing you to greet your intruder.

“Hey! Morning! Your lock is busted for some reason, buuut we can fix it, don't worry!” a cheerful Charlie enters your room, smiling nervously at you. You muster up your best smile and turn towards her.

“Morning, Charlie. What's got you all worked up today?” You ask casually, running your fingers through your hair, too lazy to thoroughly brush it. You could tell she was nervous, it was obvious to you.

“Well! About that.. I actually wanted to talk to you about.. my dad.” She spoke softly, you did your best to hide your sudden nerves, and nodded. “Right! Well- I can't believe I never realized or even asked where you used to work, but.. I remember you. When I was kid? I remember you were there with me, taking care of me-” She began to explain quickly and nervously, pacing your room. Your mind was racing with a relief that she finally knew, but also a fear of what was coming next. “I don't know, I was so young and it was so long ago, but I felt like we had fun, right? What.. What made you leave..? Did I do something wrong?”

It was so much more complicated than that. How do you explain to her what you've done? The very act that cost you a dream job, that haunts you with nightmares almost every night? She could see your mind swimming for answers, she watched you struggle for longer than she needed to.

“Was it my dad? Did he do something?” She sounded so serious. But clearly she was on the right path with your wide eyed reaction. “I'm so sorry if he did anything to upset you, you know how he can be… What did he-”

“Charlie, no.. You’re right, we all had so much fun together, and.. he was my best friend! And I-I made a mistake and I kissed him, and.. and Lillith saw and-” you finally let the floodgates down, making sure to leave out any reciprocated feelings that Lucifer may have had for you. That was his discussion to have. Charlie was silent. Even though you didn't tell her that things were mutual at some point, things started piecing together. She could tell you two had rekindled some sort of feelings for each other recently. “It's all my fault, Charlie, I never meant to hurt anyone. I loved him. It was a mistake..”

A sudden hand on your shoulder forced your eyes to meet hers. She was smiling. whether that meant she understood you or forgave you, it was one of your favorite sights. It always has been.

-

Lucifer paced around his workshop, figuring out how to keep that deer demon away from you, while also avoiding the conjured images of his lips against yours. Before he could react, he noticed the floor underneath him disappear. Falling directly into a suddenly conjured portal, he looked around, before realizing he was suddenly in the lobby. He was greeted by you and Charlie seated on the couch, a confrontation he’s been afraid of for years. 

“Hi, dad..! I hope you weren’t doing anything important, I just needed to.. Talk to you..” With a snap of her fingers, the portal above his head vanished. She takes Lucifer by the shoulders and plops him down next to you on the couch. Can't have him running off again.

She’s struggling to get past her initial greeting. You take hold of her fidgeting hand and she seems startled at first, but your smile seems to calm her nerves for the moment. With a large inhale, everything that had been troubling Charlie finally erupted.

“I know you two have.. Some kind of history- Well, actually, I know exactly what kind of history- I know that you kissed her when she was my nanny and then she came to the hotel and didn’t tell me who she was! Still not super happy about that-” She interrupts her rambling to point out your mistakes, making you wince. “-Then! All of a sudden you two are friends? Again? Or.. something more, I guess! Then I noticed you haven’t been wearing your ring, you’re hauled up in your workshop all day, and whenever she’s around, you can’t keep your eyes off of her! And.. and that you’re more focused on her than this hotel! Than me!” The silence that followed her words were filled with nothing but her shaky breathing.

You and Lucifer were too stunned to speak. You took the time to examine Lucifer’s shriveling body language, seeing that he had in fact taken his wedding band off at some point. Charlie practiced this whole speech with you, but she seemed to run off the rails near the end there. Her words were harsh, but.. true. A relaxed sigh finally brings your attention back to Charlie.

“Dad, I know things weren’t great between you and Mom, I’m not a little kid anymore.. And… all I want is for you to be happy, but-” Lucifer has her wrapped in a tight hug before she can continue on.

“Charlie.. I am.. So sorry.” He waited for her to wrap her own arms around him, needing the comfort as much as she did. “You’re right. I haven’t had my priorities straight. I told you that i’ll support your dream, no matter what lies in store and I meant that.” He pulled her away, but only to wipe the absurd amount of tears that had fallen from her eyes. “I’m sorry things got so out of control. Think you can forgive me, sweetheart?” Charlie sniffled, with a small nod. They both turn to face you.

"Can you forgive me?" He asked. His eyes were so soft, still glistening with a few tears that had welled during his confrontation with his daughter. You couldn't help but get lost in them. Finally realizing he was waiting for an answer, you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out.

“I.. I don't know." Before either of the Morningstars could react accordingly, a familiar face interrupts the conversation.

“Now, now, don’t corner her! This is quite the dilemma, isn’t it, dear?” As he stands behind the couch reaching forward, you feel Alastor’s hand on your shoulder, yet he seems to be keeping his eyes on Charlie. “Oh, but how touching! What a great example of forgiveness! Quite commendable, Charlie!” Alastor slowly made his way around the couch as he spoke, trailing his talons across your shoulders before he went on to praise Charlie in this off-putting tone. Lucifer had his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his only annoyed demeanor, he was ready to snap at the slightest misstep.

“But- I don’t know if it’s that simple.. Would you really be able to consider redemption with your ties to the king?” Alastor adds. The three of you went silent, considering the possibility. You became nervous at the thought.

“I mean, m-maybe it doesn’t matter, I’ve still been doing all the exercises and-” Why were you trying to reason with him? Lucifer has done nothing but hurt you. He’s only shown you kindness just recently and even then, he had to confuse you with a damned kiss. Your reasoning didn’t last long, though.

“True! You’ve been making excellent progress, darling! You’ve just been an absolute pleasure to have around the hotel. You’re very.. Important to us here.” Alastor dares to lay another hand on you, bringing your pondering mind to his attention with the lightest tug of your chin to face him.

“Uh.. Thank you, I guess…” You respond, his grasp on your face causing your words to muffle. Lucifer was fuming. As soon as Alastor caught sight of his reaction, he tightened his grip for just a moment, before finally releasing your face.

“But! Your successful redemption could give us what we need to get those pesky angels' attention. Wouldn’t you agree?” He acted out a determined facade, now approaching Charlie and wrapping a hand around her shoulder.

“Sure, but..” Charlie nods along with what he’s saying, laughing nervously at the tension that’s accumulated.

“And you! I thought you, of all people, would know what has to be done to get their attention, your highness.” All eyes shot to Lucifer as soon as Alastor spoke out of turn.

“Watch it.” Lucifer growled under his breath, stepping away from the group.

“Haha.. Let’s just relax! Redemption is about saving souls, remember? The important thing is-” Charlie attempts to chime in, sensing that things are about to go very wrong.

“Do you want Charlie to succeed with her dreams? Or are you assuming she’ll simply give up? Like you did?” Alastor approached Lucifer, bending at his hips to meet his eyes and emphasize the insult he had just made.

“That’s it-” With a quick rolling of his sleeves, Lucifer lunged towards the radio demon, taking him down with ease. It's like he wasn't even trying to dodge the attack.. A crash into the nearest surface left a crack trailing up the wall, his hands rung around Alastor’s neck. Using his usual shadow tricks, he phased from underneath him, silking away. Lucifer quickly rose from the ground, his wings now encasing most of the room, he scanned the room for any sight of the shadowy being. 

“What's wrong, your majesty? Worried about your little nanny? Will you miss her once she's redeemed?” His questioning came from all corners of the room, only enraging Lucifer more.

“Shut up!” With a growl, Lucifer surrounded the room in a white light. In that fit of rage, he succeeded in forcing Alastor out of the shadows, but momentarily lost his vision. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, Alastor was fast approaching, his own demonic form growing behind the fallen angel.

You covered your ears at the shouting, only to have your eyes blinded by the light. With all of your senses overwhelmed, and your heart racing, you scramble off the couch to avoid some debris coming your way. All you comprehend is Alastor lifting his arm, ready to essentially slash Lucifer into pieces before the room goes silent. Now only hearing the blood pumping in your ears, you lifted your head up to witness the end of this useless fight.

Charlie had put it all to an end. Her powerful arm had broken through her sleeve, and in its grasp.. something you’ve seen before, out on the streets of Hell. You’ve heard about these sorts of situations, but never witnessed anything like this. A glowing chain was fastened around Alastor’s neck, effectively yanking him away from the fight. The other end was held tightly in Charlie’s demonic fist. The silence was deafening. With Alastor on the ground, essentially leashed by Charlie, you instinctively slid behind Lucifer’s still-powerful appearance. He held his arm out to keep you behind him. Alastor coughed, gripping at the illuminated collar he wore.

“W-Well.. I should’ve known better, I have to admit. Maybe I've lost my touch... But I’m proud of you, Charlie. You’re finally showing some authority around here.” Alastor speaks up. His crumbling voice was weak, his static filter flickering with every other word. But the severity of his tone still sent a shiver down her spine.

“Charlie?” She looked over to her father, more concerned for her than anything. But seeing your face not far behind, seeing your fear, the realization hit her. She let out a weak gasp, her arm returning to normal and the chain fading into nothing but a reminder of a binding contract.

“Charlie.. What did you do?”

♡♡♡

I hope it was worth the wait! ;)

Part 5 is in the works 🙏

!Taglist!

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest )

[suguru-getos]

//fractures// geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 3

links 🔗: part one // part two

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: after getting a fever from the injury, geto calls shoko to treat you — however, he ends up being conflicted and bruising your psyche again with his words & actions. you, (sorta?) fight back this time though.

warnings: signs of abu$e, heavy degradation, mean mean mean MEAN geto, reader also gets mean by the end of it. fluff if you squint-,-

a/n: i'm just writing off this chapter for my funsies :3 but please it is such a 'dead dove do not eat' story so i'd suggest people PLEASE read it after heeding through the warnings ;) also, not beta’d 🤺✨

"its 100 degrees." manami sighs, taking the thermometer out of your mouth. a soft pout on your lips, "then do something to get rid of it, where is the anti-fever medication?" suguru raised a brow. after having your hand carved, it was obvious you would get a high fever. it was too much toll on your body. ever so evident anyway. "and some painkillers." you added, frankly you were still sweating in pain, it hurt. everywhere hurts. "the doctor will be here soon." suguru huffs, looking at manami dismissively, he can't really show that his heart is breaking apart for a good for nothing monkey after all. manami leaves with an eye roll. she felt conflicted too, geto's feelings were enabling everyone to think a little about their actions.

soon, shoko was here to heal you. she glanced at your form, you were beaten and bruised. eyes mingling with suguru, "she is a non-sorcerer." she commented, and raised a brow. "geto, I am surprised she is alive here" she hums, no expression on her face whatsoever. suguru doesn't respond, and neither do you. it did not help at all that she was amazed at something like that. after a second or two, you hummed, "cus he wouldn't get the money from my parents."

suguru's eyes widen, it- is it? is it the money that's making him act this way? no, money is never above his moral compass. the whole reason you're so tattered is because money doesn't matter. his resolve is just being tested, that's all. "shoko, don't heal her." suguru's jaw twitches, he doesn't want to do this but seems like he has to. "I want her worthless self to remember who she is even after she leaves, I want that shit to scar." he crosses his arms, looking at you with predominant hatred.

your heart sinks, you hadn't even thought about how it would feel… to see the grotesque mark looking in your hand for the rest of your life. monster, geto suguru is a monster.

tears well up in your eyes, shaking your head no rapidly. "please don't- please s' hurting too much-" you begged, hands reflexively gripping at his gojo-gesa. "no- no- g-geto? geto- sama" you answered again, while suguru notices how your body shivers in pain and drenched in sweat. "did I say you could touch me? you piece of shit?" a snarl echoed through the room, geto's hand raised to hit you but stopping, you were cowering, all small and flinching. just like his girls. hot and cold, his behavior has been hot and cold. one moment he was hugging you to calm you down, now, he's ordering shoko to let you suffer in pain. "if you touch me again, you filthy monkey, I will make sure to break every bone in your body and leave you handicapped in the basement to rot and starve." his jaw clenched, while you couldn't do anything but listen. you don't want to die anyway. "I'm sorry." you mumbled, heartbroken. six more days with him. your broken voice shoves him back into his senses, he is trying so hard to ensure that it doesn't happen - that he doesn't feel like killing himself, so he is uttering shit, whatever helps to balm his own brimming rebellion against his own thoughts. your eyes are still kind, its just the way they are, you still can't look at him with anything except a silent plea for mercy.

"I think I should heal her, else she would die of an infection." she holds your wrist, a drastic change in your body immediately felt when she began to heal you. your internal injuries, popped lip, the carving, the cumulative blinding pain of it all fading away into nothing. geto only stands still, watching the way your creased brows turn softer, how your pained face turns neutral.

"thank you." you mumbled at shoko, and she smiles. "I don't know why he's got you kidnapped like some third grade movie's villain, but we have another certain someone who can save you perhaps." suguru raises a brow at shoko, the audacity was impressive. she leans back, watching the glimmer of hope in your face. her hand lands onto geto's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. "she's a human, didn't you say picking on the weak was not a good thing geto?" suguru rolls his eyes, gently pushing her away. "leave." he commands instantly, while shoko smiles at you, "see you, ne? y/n san!"

you were curious, who was this other person that she could send to help? then again, you're not sure if anyone could help you against this monster in front of you. suguru sighs, the way he speaks to you torments him more than it could ever torment you. which in-turn, makes him try harder to reach a state where he DOES NOT, feel this pathetic after abusing you. so? he mumbles again. "I wonder if you worked like a stripper mm?" you blinked, unsure where this was coming from. no, you weren't a stripper. you waited for him to continue whatever he meant to say. "I mean you certainly look the part, perky boobs, are they fake or real?" your face pales, so far geto has harmed you but nothing was remotely sexual, this turn makes you want to throw up. the expression of sheer panic on your face isn't gone unnoticed by him. he wants to stop, he wants to make sure he never says something like this ever again. then again, he just needs to 'kill' this kind, and caring part of him anyway. "maybe next time I can carve your insides up with the knife, leave you bleeding if you ever try to touch me again. since you want me so bad anyway?" you shake your head no, like a forced obedient pup in training. he was horrifying, absolutely fucking disgusting and every part of you wished he was dead.

to suguru… though, these were all just words. maybe now you will stop looking at him with hidden expectations that he would be kinder, nicer. more tolerable… you don't deserve that, monkeys don't deserve that!

"you will get your lunch and dinner here, don't move or I will chain you with your hands tied up and let my girls practise boxing on your pathetic rag of a body." christ, he was fucking insane. your mouth couldn't help it-

"you utter so much shit just because you're capable of killing me? maybe you're a frustrated eunuch, clearly looks from that disgusting, vomit inducing face. I hope you're killed like the dog that you are, impaled on something sharp since that's all you could ever think of, bastard." you widened your eyes after these words left your mouth. dead. you are to be dead.

suguru is stunned. "this is what happens when pets like you aren't trained well. as soon as the pain is gone, your mouth is on again hmm?" he's amused, you clearly can't do anything to him. still… your words… hurt. why do they fucking hurt? are you important to him? certainly not-

"mutts sleep on the floor." he yanks you outside the bed, throwing you on the marble floor and leaving.

six more days… and he will have you gone.

six more days, and you will never see the fucking bastard.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

You're Different

Crosshair x Reader

Summary- Ever since Crosshair made a snide comment about leaving a team member to die, you've had a lingering thought. Even though you knew he loved you, doubts rose.

A/N- Crosshair is my favorite clone, but also hard to write. Apologies if he's OOC! Feel free to LMK how I can improve XoXo

Word Count- 995

"Well I think you're letting your personal feelings get involved. You're just guilty because you left Echo at the Citatdel. Oh, I don't blame you. I'd have left him for dead too..."

The words sent chills down your spine. You couldn't pinpoint why. Crosshair says rash things all the time. He's always cold and negative, secretly you love it about him. But, leaving a team member- a brother for dead? Just because?

Well... he'd never do that to you, right? Crosshair loves you, you know that. But what was he capable of doing when he put his 'personal feelings' aside?

You came back to reality when Hunter instructed everyone to scout the area, look for a better way up the mountain into the tower.

You hurried in your step to walk next to Crosshair, something he preferred to keep you safer. His hands tightly gripped his rifle, a subtle way, you noticed, to release his anger.

He kept a keen eye for any kind of disturbance, more on edge than usual. You noticed, but was at a loss for how to bring it up. Your doubts clouded you.

'I'd have left him for dead too...' You brought a hand up to tug at your glove nervously. You couldn't even focus on the mission, 'Well I think you're letting your personal feelings get involved.' You had to clear your head, he wasn't talking about you. He would never.

Your head shot up at the yell of your name, followed by- 'Crosshair, scout the East terrain, we will go West." Hunter commanded.

"Yes, sir." You responded instinctively, Crosshair nodding and turning.

You didn't even notice that Crosshair stopped and waited for you to catch up. You squinted your eyes behind your helmet and pushed back any thoughts.

Everything went smooth for a minute, silence consuming the air. Just the gentle sound of rocks crunching under your feet. It helped you shift your focus back to your surroundings, eyes searching for any intruders or a possible entrance to the tower.

While it was usually a calm and comfortable silence between you two, this was not. The air was thick, and needed cutting. You wondered if he noticed it as well.

"What's wrong with you?" His gravel voice started. He did notice it...

You snapped in his direction, you could practically see his scowl through his helmet.

"Nothing. I'm fine." You continued to walk.

"Stop that, we don't do the whole 'lie' thing." He was right, he always seemed to be. You could hear him fiddling with his rifle, but you didn't turn to look at him.

"Lets just focus on the mission, I wouldn't want my 'personal feelings' to get in the way." You said, picking up your step. You hated the way you jumped to conclusions. Sarcasm drips from your words. Passive aggressiveness was something you and Crosshair shared with many people, but rarely each other.

"Cut the shit." He said, grabbing your forearm. This took you by surprise, but it shouldn't have. He made sure to glance around the area, then took off his helmet.

"What Cross?" You were sour, having been lost in your thoughts.

You took off your helmet as well, then crossed your arms. You challenged him with a look in the eyes.

"It doesn't take my defect to know something is bothering you. We can't let it affect the mission. What is it?" He says fiercely. While he did seem pretty rude and demanding, it was more care then he'd show anyone else.

"So it's just about this mission?" Damn it, why would you say that. Especially after Crosshair was actually trying to find out what was wrong.

He scoffs and leans against a large rock. "Fine, screw up the mission for all I care." He puts a pick in between his teeth, then cocks his rifle. You don't flinch a bit when he shoots a small surveillance droid behind your left shoulder. You keep your eyes trained on his.

"I wouldn't leave you." He says, chewing on the pick, and lowering the rifle.

"Wha-"

"I know when something is bothering you."

"Yeah but, how-" He cuts you off again, stepping close to you. inches away.

"I'm always watching." He says, a smirk present.

You give him a playful smack on the arm, he just laughs. With a sigh the situation becomes serious again.

"Really?" You looked up at him,

"I was just trying to get under Rex skin. You know we don't leave brothers behind." You smiled, bigger than you had all day.

"What if I was a reg?" You say, now pulling at his arm so he was closer.

"But you're not, you're different." He points out, flicking his pick to the ground.

He deeply inhaled through his nose, pressing his forehead down onto yours. You were silent and still after closing your eyes to enjoy the moment.

Suddenly you heard a third parties movement. You dropped into a squat, Crosshair bringing his rifle to balance on your shoulder plate. The two of you worked in perfect unison.

It was just Wrecker.

"What are you two doing?" He asks, dumbfounded on what he walked upon.

"Uhm, nothing. This side's clear." You said, slowly turning around.

Crosshairs rifle was still cocked and ready with his finger on the trigger. Even in the heat of the moment, he was able to defend.

You swallowed, thinking about how attractive he was in that second.

"Hunter needs us back at the cliff. They found a way in." Wrecker says before heading off.

"We're coming." Crosshair says, annoyed.

You turn and smile at him before putting your helmet back on.

He does the same and follows closely behind you.

"Hey," He starts, grabbing your attention. "You can pull that with anyone you want, but next time just tell me. It goes a lot faster that way." Crosshair was sweet and gentle in his own way. He was saying 'I love you.'

"I love you too, Cross."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I'm not super proud of this one, I think I rushed it. I love Crosshair sm, but I have no idea how to write him.

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[wrathofresistantx]

Some lesser-known facts about Bastian Bosse

He was kept down two years in school, leading him to graduate from GSS in 2006 rather than 2004.

After his graduation, he worked in a hardware store.

He lived with his parents, younger siblings and grandparents in a three-storey house.

His grandfather died of lung cancer in 2005, with it being reported that Bastian was his favourite grandchild.

Bastian drove a black Opel Astra, his grandmother's car. This was also the car he drove to GSS on the morning of the shooting.

Bastian once asked his uncle for an air-rifle to which his uncle responded: "You can have anything but that". Bastian's uncle told his father afterwards: "Something is wrong with the boy".

In June 2001, Bastian had a hot key pressed into his hand by some bullies. This incident led to the headmaster filing a report, but nothing was done further than that.

Bastian was nicknamed "Matrix man" or "Psycho", due to his style of clothes.

Whilst discussing killing sprees, one teacher who knew Bastian stated prior to the shooting that: ‘If anyone does something like that here, it's Bastian. I wouldn't put it past him if he continues to develop like that.’.

Bastian's parents were brought into the school during mid-2005, to which they stated that Bastian was normal at home, but spent too much time on his computer.

Another teacher that taught Bastian was glad when he left GSS, stating after the shooting that "We thought we'd finally got rid of him.".

Bastian never played counter-strike online, despite much of the media blaming the shooting on the game. He himself stated that he only mapped for the game instead of playing it with others.

Bastian's favourite film was Halloween H20, with his other favourites including Forrest Gump, Bang Bang You're Dead, Bowling For Columbine and the 4th, 5th and 6th Star Wars films.

He also owned 17 DVDs and 20 videotapes.

Bastian was a big fan of the Halloween films, with his MSN username being "Halloweenkiller2", him having a Halloween poster on his bedroom wall, and listing Halloween films amongst his favourite films, and the films he had most recently seen.

He also made a video called "HalloweenX" with his friends sometime in early 2004.

Bastian had been scheduled to go to court on the 21st November 2006, as he had been reported by a group of people for threatening them with one of his gas pistols.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

I thought of this idea and how it would be funny. Also these are my opinions!

Obey me brothers reaction to you comparing them to a fictional character

Lucifer

He never really did care for Levi's little shows he watched and cared slightly more when you said you were also interested in them. He only knew the basics of some animes thanks to Levi's rambling but still did not care much for it. You were now watching demon Slayer a pretty popular anime when you suddenly pause it. He looks up at you before asking "what's wrong?" You hum in response before smiling "you kinda remind me of him" you say pointing to the screen it was Muzan. After explaining what and who he is Lucifer was not happy only slightly liking the character due to his overwhelming power in the show. "He's like the same type of sexy as you" you say only agitating him more.

Mammon

Alike Lucifer he found no interest in anime as you and Levi do so he didn't bother watching whatever you two put on. He did however perk up when you called a character hot. "Who's the character I bet they aren't as hot as the great Mammon" he gloats. You roll your eyes before pointing at the screen it was Issac(Zach) Foster off of Angels of death. He scoffs "he speaks so vulgur and idiotic! And he's loud and annoying! What do you see in him?" When you suddenly respond "you" he stops dead in his tracks and immediately pouted the rest of the show while Levi laughed at him

Levi

You two spent quite some time together after you revealed you are a nerd alike him with anime. He of course showed you all his favorites and now you're showing him your own. Demon slayer was playing and he was pretty interested. As you watched a certain scene you giggled to yourself. He looks over at you "What's so funny?" He asks you suddenly smile "well just Zenitsu reminds me of you a bit" you state. He didn't do anything at first then he immediately pouts. "You think I'm that much of a loser?" He says and you immediately comfort him "no no just how he is compared to all the other characters I see you in him" he again retaliates "I'm not that loud..." He mumbles.

Satan

He sat beside you on the couch in the living room. He read his book as you watched some anime. He wasn't bothered by it really but wouldn't go out of his way to watch one. You look over at him suddenly then back to the screen. He perks over his book and raises a brow. "What is it?" He asks. You just look at the TV and squint. "Well....it's just you kinda remind me of kageyama...". He looks puzzled and stares at the screen. After watching a few scenes he sighs. "It's because of his temper isn't it?" You nod "it's not as bad as yours but when he's really passionate about something he has this cute look on his face like you do" you say with a smile. He covers his face with the book and mumbles something as you clearly can see him blushing behind it.

Asmos

You and him were gossiping over something he found relevant. You also were watching your show. You stalled in a response when you suddenly see a character. He pouts from the lack of response and attention. He poked your cheek for an answer "what is it?" You look at him and giggle. "Well it's just with how this character acts it makes me think of you" he looks at the screen it was geto from jujutsu kaisen. He raises a brow "I don't look like him?" He states "well it's his cocky attitude of being better than others or well 'monkeys' and he is very beautiful ontop of it" he now was smiling happily "okay now I definitely see it" you just roll your eyes and go back to the conversation.

Beel

You and beel were laying in bed together watching a movie. Belphie was there as well just resting in your lap since he couldn't stay up long for the movie you and beel were watching. You smile and rest your head on beels arm. He looks over at you and notices your smile. You look up at him and realize he wants to know why you are smiling. "Hm well it's just Hercules kinda reminds me of you" you state since you were watching the movie Hercules. He looks at the screen and smiles "you think I'm that capable of greatness?" You just giggle and nod "yeah and other things but you mostly get it" you smile.

Belphie

(This is the one who got me into this idea because these TikToks would not leave me alone 😭)

You share a deep love for horror movies and belphie shares a deep love with you so you currently were cuddling in the attic together as you watch a horror movie. You were close to the end and you suddenly grin at something. He noticed and pokes at your face "what are you smiling at" he huffs. You just shrug "it's just well....he kinda has something similar to you I guess" he looks at you then the movie. You were speaking of brahmas from the movie The Boy. He scrunched his face in confusion "I am no where near that muscular" you shrug "yeah but how possessive and needy he is hits the mark" he pushes your head away and hides in the pillows. "Oh come on I'm just teasing!" You giggle and mess with him more.

[m00nsbaby]

Therapy.

(Marc Spector x F/Reader.) Warnings - Tags: Mentions of abuse, violence. Marc is kinda mean. (until he isn’t lol) Angst, but not that bad. Mentions of Steven. Word count: 960. Summary: The change was so sudden that you started to question if there was someone within it that you weren't counting on. That, or your best friend had been replaced with a highly unconvincing double. Because for exactly 4 months now, Marc Spector had been nothing but smiles.

You realized on an ordinary Thursday. Both of you were comically bumping into each other in Steven Grant's small kitchen, but he was two moves away from losing his patience.

You insisted on taking care of things yourself, and he refused, so stubborn that you had no other choice. Now, when your bodies collided and the plate in your hands went flying through the air, crashing loudly onto the floor, you stood there in complete silence, staring at him.

It was just a few seconds before your physical memory took over, expelling all the air from your lungs in a sigh. Here it comes.

You wondered what it would be this time. "I told you so" or "Look what you did," perhaps just a "Move" to get you out of the way and handle it himself without your interference.

"I'm so sorry." That's what came out of his mouth.

And you turned to him as if you had heard the filthiest word he could have uttered.

"Ah?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he bent down to pick up some of the broken pieces of the plate. Dark curls falling on his face as he squinted to locate every ceramic shard on the floor.

And that was your strangest interaction with Marc. Even after he talked to you about Khonshu, or about Steven.

Marc Spector has all those little and big points that people refer to when they ask you to promise to stay above everything else.

Sometimes it's the shouts. What was so striking about the whole situation with the plate was that you expected Marc to shout at you as he always did when he lost his patience, regurgitating the words his mother once said to him.

You had figured it out a long time ago, but you would never tell him what he was doing.

Other times, it's avoidance. Another thing you discovered over time is that Marc was engrossed in the idea of not allowing himself to feel any kind of affection for anyone. Not after Layla.

Romantic or not, he wouldn't allow himself to have his heart broken again. He couldn't bear the thought that someone would make him believe he wasn't as broken as he thought, only to prove him wrong.

Even after so many years together, his mind plays tricks on him. Sometimes he wakes up and decides that he no longer wants you in his life because the fact that you're his first thought upon waking up is terrifying. Or because he found himself smiling while responding to your silly 23rd message of the day, or because there isn't a spot in his house that isn't marked by you and how careless you are with your things.

So, he stops responding. He stops visiting. He stops existing. At first, it was worse, though. He disappeared enough to make you believe he was dead. Since then, the duration of these periods without him has decreased. The last time was just before this change, a week without any signs until he showed up at your door in the early hours of the morning with a bloodied t-shirt and a bruise on his eye.

The arguments, the alcoholism, that habit of blaming you because he can't stay away from you and accusing you of putting yourself in danger by being his friend as long as he continues to work with Khonshu, the number of times you've had to promise him that his alters are not more important to you than he is, the constant insecurity, his inability to communicate in a healthy way, and the fact that he never lets you use the blue plastic cup from his cupboard.

But you never wavered in your decision to stay. He never hurt your feelings; he just took care of filling a little jar inside you every time you realized how worried you should be about him.

And for the first time in years, you're seeing a favorable change in him that makes you feel good.

"You have to tell her, Marc." Steven's desperate voice echoes in his head, his own reflection doesn't look much better. Worry is imprinted on every part of his body.

That's what's been going on behind the scenes for the past 4 months.

"Why, huh?" Marc's aggressive tone is a good reminder that they are two different people, even though they share the same body. "So she can leave? Like Layla did, or like Mom did." The latter part is figurative; he was the one who left.

"She can help you."

"Steven." The mercenary runs his hand over his face a couple of times in despair. And it's not the other's fault for not seeing things his way. After all, even though they were as transparent as possible with each other, Steven would never know the emotional burden Marc carries. "Do you know how terrible it is to burden her with that responsibility? I don't want to drag her down with me."

And finally, the other falls silent. He understands.

Another gulp of his whiskey, and he's finished the bottle. "Well, I feel better." He thinks to himself now that the alcohol has clouded his mind enough to forget why he was crying in the first place.

That was his therapy, and it was proving to be quite fruitful from his perspective. Of course, on the days he wasn't with you, he would drink until he couldn't remember or until a burst of anger made him break a few things. Sometimes a lamp, sometimes his wrist from hitting the wall in an ill-proportioned strike.

But ever since he started lying to you, everything felt better in some way.

It was better until we reached exactly 5 months.

Only one thing had been treated suspiciously seriously with this radical change in Marc, and that was that visits were always scheduled. With a text message, a phone call. In fact, if you could send a carrier pigeon, Marc wouldn't even question why; he would just appreciate being informed that you were about to arrive at his apartment.

"Marc?" Your voice sounded on the other side of the door after two small knocks.

The bottle fell from his hands in a thunderous crash. His first reaction was to check his phone to make sure he hadn't missed any of your messages.

Nothing.

"I have Steven's book, the one he lent me." Somehow, your voice tensed his whole body, an anger he hadn't felt in... Well, not that long, maybe last week. "Can you let me in?"

No, he couldn't.

He felt like a mouse trapped in a glue trap; his feet wouldn't respond. How would he deal with your worried expression when you realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks and the smell of alcohol permeated his small apartment?

He chose not to open the door. He would stand there, waiting for you to leave.

Although the other occupant in his body disagreed, and he would let him know.

A few seconds later, and precisely the sight he didn't want was in front of him.

You, with your eyes fixed on him. Your brow furrowed and the small pout that formed on your lips whenever you felt worried.

Steven had given him the push. Although he almost vomited as he relived the sensation of the first few times they switched without realizing it, combined with the alcohol, of course.

"Marc?" You whispered his name for the fifth time, and his stomach churned even more.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you, the book." You waved it in your hand without taking your eyes off Marc, who seemed seconds away from breaking down in tears.

"You didn't let me know." His voice cracked. "Leave."

Well, there was the Marc Spector you knew.

"Leave, go." He placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you back enough to be able to close the door. And of course, the Moon Knight had skills, but being drunk wasn't much of a help.

It wasn't difficult for you to slip under his arm and enter the apartment again.

The slam of the door made you flinch, but once again, he would have to drag you himself if he wanted to keep you away from him at a time like this.

"Tell me what's wrong, Marc. Just tell me, I can help you."

"You can't!" Steven's look on the other side only irritated him further. He looked at him as if he believed Marc capable of hurting you, and surely he did. "You can't, you can't help me." His voice broke again, and the tears finally started to flow down his face.

You raised your hand slowly, intending to touch his cheek, but he took a step back.

With fear.

"I won't hurt you." That's all that came out of your mouth. /What's it like living to fight when every blow leads you to a traumatic memory that marked your entire life?/ You think as you see him so vulnerable.

Because Marc doesn't think about the damage Khonshu has caused to his body over and over again. He thinks about his mother's angry gaze and the burning pain of the blows full of contempt, which hurt a thousand times more than those from a stranger in battle.

He takes a step closer to you, just enough for you to rest a hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing his jawline as delicately as you can. His eyes close, and his head tilts to seek your touch.

"We're best friends, Marc." He furrows his brow at your words but keeps his eyes closed. "You can trust me."

"Don't leave." His voice is so soft that for a moment, you have to check if you're dealing with Steven. It's not difficult; Marc's body is always tense.

It breaks your heart to see how unstable he is when these things happen. In seconds, he changes his mind, and you don't know if it's just his brain or the alcohol in his system.

"Don't leave, please." He repeats with a sob.

"You have to tell me what's going on." You don't want to pressure him. You never have, but you have no way of comforting him if you don't know what's happening.

His arms slowly extend, encircling your waist as he holds you tightly against his body. He's begging for a hug, and you give it to him without hesitation, even though you feel the air escaping from your lungs as he tightens his grip.

Marc has a moment to realize how bad things are with you. His body is familiar to you; Steven's love language is physical—he hugs you, holds your hand, plays with your hair, and other things. But for Marc, your body is uncharted territory.

He doesn't know that his arms seem to be made for embracing you, or that your shampoo smells like honey and it's easy to catch a whiff of it by breaking the distance a little.

"You can't go." This time he whispers as his breathing seems to calm down. "Don't go, and I'll be fine."

It's a lie, and both of you know it.

Was it time to confront it?

"Marc, I can't." This time your voice comes out almost inaudible.

His arms tighten around you; he doesn't want to let you go. But you don't mean that.

"I can't end this." He hates how coherent you are. How stable. "I wish I could take away all your pain. Truly." For the first time, you feel his body relax as your fingers run through his messy curls. "But I can't stop this. You need to understand that."

He sniffles, and you wonder if he's still crying. He won't let you see his face while you're in his arms, but he nods.

"I couldn't wish for anything more than for you to be happy." His weight starts to wear you out, but you won't complain out loud. "I'm worried." It's good for him to hear it rather than having to decipher the expression he has memorized. "I'm so worried. You need help."

Marc nods again, and the hug starts to loosen.

"I love you."

This time, it's your body that tenses.

"What?"

"I love you." And for the first time in a long time, when Marc confesses his feelings, there are no tormenting memories behind him or ghosts from his past telling him, /You know what's going to happen./

Maybe this is a new memory. A good one, in some way.

"I've loved you since you broke my favorite mug." Marc tries to laugh; it's one of those times when you exhale loudly through your nose accompanied by a broken smile.

You remember it well. It was one of those times of "Look what you did." Never in a million years would you have imagined that your best friend would treasure that memory in his mind.

You finally lift your head; you want to confront him, but his lips are on yours before you can react.

Automatically, you close your eyes, savoring the taste of tequila and the mint of the stupid chewing gum he uses to calm his anxiety. Your fingers still in his curls, messing them up even more as he arches your back again with the force he uses to hold your waist in his arms.

"I love you," you mumble against his lips as best you can. It feels like lifting a thousand bricks off your back.

"It's too early," you complained against his chest. You could feel him scoff by the way your head moved. It made you laugh too. "Baby, it's already 12 PM," you could hear his smile as he spoke, and you hugged him closer to you. "No nightmares?" "Not at all. I dreamt about us having the cutest puppy ever," he said, marking three months without nightmares."I really have to get up." "What time is your appointment?" "It's in about three hours, so move," he laughed again as he finally pushed you out of his arms, making you complain one last time. "We should celebrate." There was no hint of joking in your voice, just a sincere smile as you watched him get up and search for his shirt somewhere on the floor. "One year in therapy is a big deal." "Do you think they make 'I'm glad you don't cry until you fall asleep anymore' cakes?" He pressed his lips together as he stared at you, trying not to laugh. "You are an idiot, you know that, right?" You were definitely going to bake that cake and decorate it with pink frosting while he wasn't at home. "Yes, I know." He leaned in a little, enough to rest his forehead against yours. "I love you." The words rolled off his tongue easily. It had been like that for a while now. "I love you," you whispered back, kissing his lips briefly. "Now move, or you're going to be late."

[leonawriter]

It's a normal day in school - that is to say, school in Ekoda, Japan, since if he were in education in England he'd currently be attending college rather than the equivalent of Secondary education. More to the point, Saguru has been in and out of Japan often enough that the simple task of working in a teacher-assigned group was proving... difficult.

Their teacher must have noticed that although he could get along with almost any of the others merely by being polite, Kuroba did tend to act out less around him. Because they had been put in the same group, and expected to work together.

Only fifteen minutes in, however, and he could tell that things weren't working out. When Kuroba wasn't being belligerent, he was outright ignoring him.

Four and a half minutes later, and Kuroba wasn't even anywhere to be seen. Most likely he was somewhere nearby still, but the possibility remained that he'd simply taken off.

It was a state of affairs that had Saguru unable to stifle a sigh, no matter his relief that Aoko was still there with him.

"I get the impression," he said quietly, "that Kuroba-kun actively dislikes me. Perhaps I should have a word with the teacher and dissuade her from pairing us together, in future."

For an entire two minutes and thirty five seconds, Aoko didn't say anything. He glanced over, only to see her frowning.

"Really...? Aoko... isn't sure."

He blinks, confused and surprised. Surely she should have picked up on the awkward tension between them, by now-?

"Really?" He said dryly. "He can't ever seem to get rid of me fast enough."

It didn't matter how long it had been since the way he'd acted when they'd first met, or how he'd changed since then. Kuroba had made up his mind, and Saguru would be lying if he said that it did not, from time to time, hurt.

Aoko again took her time to think of how to respond.

"Kaito... Aoko thought he'd stopped doing that ages ago. He used to, after-" she cut herself off, but he could fill in the blanks. Kuroba's father was dead, after all, and grief did things to people. To children, especially. "He pushes people away when he thinks they're getting too close. He tried to push me and 'tou-san away too, but we're stubborn, and he doesn't bother anymore. But you didn't hear Aoko say any of that."

"Of course."

Kuroba didn't return for the rest of their classes.

Later that evening, Nakamori called with the news that a notice had somehow been delivered. Fairly straightforward, but in being so easily read it was also easy to read into it - the heist was due to take place once Saguru was supposed to already be back in London again.

The pieces were falling into place. He still had many missing, and it would be preferable to get confirmation from Kuroba himself (or Kid, if the case may be), but it was a working theory.

"It's a damn shame you won't be here," Nakamori was saying in the here and now, Saguru's attention snapping back to the problem at hand. "Could do with your help."

"No need for that," he heard himself say. "I'll be there."

It wouldn't take too much, to cancel his plans.

He was sure that the Kaitou Kid Task Force likely thought that the smile on his face was the result of him thinking of innovative new ways to trip Kid up - and in a way, they weren't wrong. Kid couldn't possibly be expecting Saguru to have decided that like hell was he just going to let himself be pushed away like that; now that he knew what was needed, he'd be as stubborn as it took.

[goodolddumbbanana]

[GOODGUY Nexus au] Meet Sun - The Depressed Asshole [1]

"What happened to my smile and my will to live? Gone."

"Remember kids, whenever you find yourself feeling trapped, feeling suffocated, that's okay!! Fish get eaten in the ocean and they choke on their own waste in undersized tanks everyday. If you are not dead, that means society has done its job." :))

***

They started out like the other Suns and Moons. Getting sentient, sharing the same body, and fighting for control until they nearly killed each other.

The only difference was that even when they were separated, Moon was still an asshole. They taunted and bullied Sun, and often used the threat of shutting him down to get Sun to obey.

They were like the king, and Sun was the sad clown who danced to the stick they would hit him with whenever he stopped.

Sun has tried to stay positive, but the more days go by, the idea of Moon love and care about him seems like a lie he is trying to deceive himself.

But things would get worse, Moon could kill him or he could tear himself in half until one day…

Anyways... Like a butterfly flapping its wings in the northern can cause a tornado in the southern.

Sun has changed, and the universe has changed with him...

It was a late afternoon, when the kids had all gone home and Sun was left alone to clean. The smell of cleaning filled the air, and with each ball he cleaned, he hummed a different tune.

"Hmm… Almost done, only 232 balls left. Haha… I hate my life."

His chuckle echoed in the empty space. The loneliness was like a cold pressing down on Sun's ribs and spine, making him unconsciously hug himself because of the sudden feeling of restlessness.

Moon wasn't here.

Who was he kidding, Moon never wanted to be here, unless his brother needed something, or wanted to push Sun into some dimension craps to turn him into a test subject again.

And it's not like he can say no...

Suddenly, his internal organs rattled as he slowly stood up, the pain tearing like a torch melting the circuit board inside his stomach before pouring more mercury in.

Moon had shoot him with some stupid machine they had built, and the aftershocks had blown a huge hole in his stomach.

It hurt like hell and Sun thought he was going to die, but then Moon had smacked him in the head to shut him up before fixing Sun as good as new.

Though… Why does it still hurt now? Sun winced, trying to get up and falling again.

His hands were shaking, his body was convulsing. His internal systems were flooded with bright yellow error warning symbols, the fans were running at full capacity, but his core was still hot enough to make his head steam.

He wanted to call someone but for some reason his voice box wouldn't respond, only emitting a staticky sound like a broken radio.

"Moon… Moon…" Sun still managed to scream weakly. He struggled to crawl out of the ballpit and crawl to wherever the camera could see him.

"Computer… Help." It is exhausting, and Sun has struggled to scream, even though it felt like he had a knife stuffed in his mouth.

"[Warning: Someone is injured, contact nearest support.]"

The dinging response made Sun's heart swell with hope, only for the computer's voice to knock that hope down and throw it into the mud.

"Oh wait, it's just Sun. I was wrong." The computer's AI looked extremely disappointed as it recognized Sun. Its voice was filled with contempt, as if Sun had soiled its eyes.

"No need to contact Moon. He always say to avoid calling them unless it's important."

The second AI was no better, just continuing to agree with AI one, completely ignoring him as he groaned in pain. A wave of nausea hit him like a wire was being ripped out behind his head and his stomach was popping.

Everything was spinning and before the feeling of breathlessness began to overwhelm him, everything went black.

That was how Sun passed out, realizing, oh, he was worthless to anyone.

***

- This Sun is more meaner. He is not afraid to open his mouth, and usually just loves to throw hands with whoever messes with him.

- He loves to beat the crap out of Monty whenever he has the chance.

-His relationship with Moon became much frayer, but they still love each other. (Kinda)

- He likes to crippled his enemies, because it is easy to live and feel the pain more than just die and get peace. His sadistic side gets shown a lot.

- He killed his Moon, not accidentally but intentionally. (Of course he still feels guilty about it, but things have already happened and Moon has forgiven him when he comes back so they are cool.)

- He and Nexus at first have the : "Who is that sassy child?" Vs "And you are an ugly bitch!" But then they slowly warm up to each other and care and treat the other more healthier than Moon and Sun ever do.

- After turning Nexus into a goose, Sun keeps Nexus in his room and reads them stories for goose Nexus to sleep.

- Sun is still silly, he just hides his side very deeply.

[forwntrx]

GIRLS LIKE GIRLS ┊͙˚. 14. TALK?

𑁍┊let's stop for now (written portion)

"jenn?" you had just gotten home. you kicked off your wet heels and slopped onto your living room's couch. the rain had gotten you good, soaking you, and making you run inside for dear life. the dorms were almost dead quiet, aside from a hum of pop music coming from the bedrooms'. most likely ning. jimin had said she wouldn't be back until later, something about a sleepover, and you had no idea where or what minjeong was doing. the thought of your bandmate caused the stress to comeback to your shoulders.

you hated this feeling.

usually, you could bounce back from anything.

thousands of hate comments, death threats, insensitive remarks about your weight and style. none of that mattered to you, not like how minjeong's absence did.

"yes?" yunjin's voice was far away. you glanced at your phone screen. she had set up her phone for you. it was a sweet thing she did whenever you two facetimed, so you could always see her no matter what she was doing.

for the past thirty minutes, she had been cooking in her kitchen, and you swore you could smell the spices through the screen. chaewon had popped her head in for a moment, waved, and stole a treat while yunjin wasn't looking. melodramatically, yunjin had complained, proceeded to chase after her, and you couldn't help but laugh.

yunjin's company was nice, but you couldn't help but feel wrong. until you figured out this minjeong stuff, this (whatever it was) couldn't happen.

"can i talk to you about something?"

"oh shit! yes! wait! fuck! is this serious?" yunjin cursed. she dropped both of the pans she was holding. the pans shrieked across the screen so loud that you had to recoil.

you grimaced. "sorry."

"no worries! i saved them!" yunjin showed you the unharmed dessert, an array of cinnamon-dripped rolls. you had to stop your mouth from overfilling with saliva. your stomach wanted to run across seoul and devour everything she had made. but you reminded yourself of what was important right now. cinnamon rolls could wait. hell, everything could.

you took a deep breath. yunjin wasn't a hard person to understand, for the most part what you saw was what you got. that's one of the things you loved about her. she was effortlessly herself. but because of that, you knew how she would respond.

"what's up? are you oaky?" yunjin interrupted your thoughts.

"i'm fine..i.." you took a deep breath. her smile was wide, and bright, and terrified you. you didn't want to be the one to take away her smile.

"listen, yunjin. i love our friendship and i would never want to do anything to harm it, y'know? i'm going through a lot with my bandmate right now and i don't want you to be in the middle of it.."

yunjin's smile fell. she tried her best to hide it. she wasn't stupid. you guys had mutual friends. it was a matter-of-time before you confirmed what she had already known.

"she kissed you, right?"

oh. you hadn't expected that from her. you swallowed. you remembered it well. the moment had been replaying in your head over and over. the softness of her lips. the longing. the sweetness. but also the need for something more. the fear, and then, everything sweet between you two that turned bitter.

"yeah." you're not a liar, and you won't cover your ass.

yunjin is quiet on the other side of the line. you can't tell if she's thinking, seething, or upset. you hoped it was something else entirely.

"do you...have feelings for her?"

you sighed.

"i don't know." you really didn't. everything was new. you had never really kissed anyone or thought about the idea of a relationship. you also knew that even if you liked someone that you were an idol first. you had a reputation to uphold.

"okay." yunjin nodded her head, "i'm not upset with you. i had heard about it from ryujin but i wasn't sure if it was true. and i'm glad you care about me enough to let me know what's going on, but right now i'm thinking you don't know me that well.."

you titled your head. "what?"

"mhm, if you knew me you would know i already told misi that we were meant to be." yunjin said.

you shook your head. "seriously?"

"when have i ever lied to you?"

you laughed. her stuffed animal. a bird. she was unbelievable.

yunjin continued. "in the end, it'll be me and you. you know how i know that?"

you couldn't help but grin. she was so unpredictable, but in the best way.

"how, jenn?"

"i went to a fucking psychic."

you rolled your eyes. "i was expecting an actual deep-ass answer, not bullshit."

yunjin shrugged. "it's true! the cards said it~ can't argue with fate!"

you want to laugh again, but you're distracted by the sound of the front door creaking open. you dart your head backwards expecting jimin or aeri, and almost jump.

minjeong is standing right there. you stared. she was completely drenched from the rain. her clothes stuck to her body, and she was shivering. her eyes weren't on you, but on the umbrella she was failing to close up.

you looked away quickly and back down onto your phone.

yunjin is still on the line. "yn? everything okay?"

"yeah, let me call you back. okay?'

"yeah. see you." yunjin was disappointed. you could hear it in her voice.

you ended the call quickly. at the same time, minjeong looked up to you. she regarded you with a blink before throwing her umbrella down and attempted to walk past you.

god, she could be so annoying sometimes. you were used to the lack of communication and the blank stares, but the passive aggressiveness was something you would not deal with.

you grabbed her hand before she could get away. she stopped and looked back at your hand in hers. you expect her to pull away. run away like she always did. but this time, she staid.

"you kiss me. avoid me. then act like an ass." you accused. you could hear the music playing stop. whoever was upstairs was trying to listen now.

minjeong's eyes sharpened on you. "what do you want to hear yn? that i've been in love with your for years, resigned to the fact you would never like me back, found out you actually did like someone and it just wasn't and would never be me, and now can't stand to see you with anyone else? well, there it is. are you happy?"

you don't even know what to say.

minjeong searched your eyes for any type of response.

"do you even know what the word communication means, minjeong?" you finally said.

minjeong took a long sigh. "no, and i'm working on it.. i'm sorry."

you shook your head. "give me time, okay?"

minjeong nodded her time. "as much as you need." she said softly.

you didn't even fully realize what was happening until now. minjeong was in love with you. yunjin was...yunjin. and you were clueless, hopeless, and had no idea what to do. where was jimin when you needed her?

𑁍┊masterlist －previous — next

ngl winter might be a little unlikeable rn, but it'll get better LMFAOO

her communication will be MUCH better from this point on

hii guysss

yunjin best girl of the chapter?!

𑁍┊ a/n: yeah,, the written portion is a little unedited other than my eyes. i have a brain frying migraine and i promised to get this out for the weekend so i'm sorry for any errors!!!

𑁍┊ taglist: open :) @runawaymazola @wintersgff @winieter @luvjanexx @justme-idle @sewiouslyz @lcv3lies @yerisdumbass @nasyu-kookies @kchwnsgf @jeindall777 @dr-wholehearted @thoughtfulqueenlady @yunalvrrr @juhyunsthirdwife @haerinfangs @awkwardtoafault @idk-idc-rn @unforgiven-000-hotline @dream-chasers-things @pandafuriosa60 @1r3n31ty @lazysmushi @multiliker