#no i did not forget to answer asks...! you have not been forgotten :] i'll get to you all soon

[3vocatio]

i love how awful simeon is, not that it's attractive in any sense because it's horrendous how he rejects anything that will lead to confronting himself, but because it's interesting and it surprises me how it's not more spoken of. something so human and something that plays into the reason why solomon told diavolo that he doesn't fit into the storybook role of a perfect celestial realm angel back in season 2.

in his first birthday event, no one amongst the cast batted an eye when he tricked the brothers into practicing the virtues that they had as angels, nor did anyone notice how he mirrored them by indulging in their respective sins. no one questioned why he never spoke much about himself since season one. without a clear goal, the concept of kindness is simply the absence of cruelty for simeon. a passerby, a bystander, because that has been his role since the celestial war.

knowing this and that simeon is an author, it's curious how he seems to assign roles to everyone in his life, and adopt their traits to fill the places that he lacks. that way, he can find parts of himself in them, just as a creator does with their original characters.

but he cannot figure out what role solomon or barbatos play in his story, and it's why he is relentlessly frustrated and intimidated by what they have to say.

they haunt him, because they represent the reality.

[formosusiniquis]

This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

[woahjo]

katsuki rarely drinks. it's not something he enjoys. but one one night, he shows up at your once-shared apartment, smelling like liquor. something sweet and fruity, liked he'd tried to wash a bitter taste from his mouth. to someone who doesn't know him the way you do, a tired sobriety may be assumed. he's that sort when he drinks.

he smiles when he sees you, a bashful kind of smile, despite not having spoken with you for months and you realize that maybe he's forgotten. maybe he's forgotten the last few months when he moved his stuff out of your place, the period of time after the break up where no one would bring up your names in front of the other.

"katsuki? it's the middle of the night," you say to him through the half open door. "what are you doing here?"

katsuki looks at you, clearly tired, and he swallows thick before opening his mouth and closing it again. you wait for him to find his words.

"i wanted to see you," he says.

"you don't live here anymore," you remind him gently, though you're not sure why you assume that he believes he does.

katsuki glances at the ground and then uses the doorframe to steady himself. you can tell that he's trying not to scare you, trying not to use the sheer size of his body. there's something cautious and equally careless about his motions and you tilt your head.

"katsuki?"

"why don't we talk anymore?" he asks you, swallowing again. you wonder where his friends have gotten off to and at what point int he evening they'd noticed that he wandered off.

the question tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the man in the doorway. it's a pathetic sort of feeling, a weak longing in your chest. you're not sure how to answer. after the break up, things just sort of... fell off. there was nothing to say anymore.

"I want to talk to you," he admits.

this is a side of katsuki that only you are privy to. a quieter, gentler side of him. one where he can openly admit his wants and faults. an exposed bleeding wound that katsuki has never really been able to sew shut.

you shake your head a little.

"talking's hard," you tell him. you're being honest. talking to him is hard. there is so much history there.

"we used to be friends," he reasons, almost as if he's reminding himself.

"yeah," you nod, "we did."

"and now we're not," he adds. "and that fucking sucks."

you nod again.

"it's late, katsuki," you say to him. "you should get home and sleep this off."

katsuki nods, but he lingers. his eyes wander past you into the inside of your apartment, almost as if he can picture himself wandering in. you keep the door half shut.

"we'll talk soon?" he asks, something hopeful in his voice. this vulnerability makes you ache.

"yeah," you respond. "we'll talk soon. fix things."

katsuki nods and then, as if something sobering has come over him, he straightens his back. you furrow your brows as he looks at you, a pink tinge over his cheeks, and wait for what he has to say next.

"sorry to- sorry to bother you so late," he says, a little less gently. he's let a mask slip carefully over his features.

"it's fine," you shake your head. "get home safe, okay? do you need me to call someone for you?"

katsuki shakes his head insistently. "no, no," he says firmly— soberly. "i'm good. i'll see you around."

"okay."

he turns from your step and you watch his back for a moment before quietly shutting the door to your apartment. it feels too quiet now, and you briefly miss the light from the street as you turn back to the empty, darkened rooms.

you wonder if he'll remember coming to your door tomorrow and kick himself for it. you wonder if he'll wake up in the morning, his head pounding, with the mortifying memory of having shown up on your doorstep, telling you that he misses you in a set of different words. or, you wonder if he'll forget. will he wake tomorrow with no memory at all of the first conversation you've shared in months?

it's probably best if he doesn't remember it. then, there'll be nothing to follow up on and nothing to apologize for in the sobering light of day. you won't have to talk to him and be reminded of just how painful every aspect of this is. you have no intention of keeping your promise to talk soon, as much as you might like to fix things. it's best, for the both of you, if you let him fade into the background. then, you can meet him again as strangers—friends of friends—and pretend that the history between you both never happened in the first place.

[dearhargrove]

Heyyy!! I have another eddie diaz request if that's okay? This time Eddie is planning to propose to reader and is a bit nervous but possibly gets chris involved holding a sign and turns around to eddie on one knee? Or they're at home getting ready for bed and he just proposes there and then as he can't think of a more perfect time. The first idea could be at home or the firehouse? All cute adorable and fluffy. Thank you!

Proposal

summary You're scared when Eddie calls you and tells you to urgently come to the firehouse - turns out there's no reason to be scared.

word count 1170

tags just pure fluff, Chris is a precious angel and I'll fight for him w my life

a/n unsure about this but here we go!! Thanks for the request <3

masterlist

You're preparing dinner when your phone rings - the ringtone you'd picked specifically for Eddie.

“What's up?” You ask, putting him on speaker so you can keep your focus on the vegetables you're chopping.

“Can you come over? To the station?” He doesn't sound relaxed - as you'd expected - but instead he sounds stressed and nervous, speaking hushed and fast. “Uhm, yeah. What's going on, Eddie?”

You hear him clearing his throat but he doesn't answer your question, “Just please come over.” Now you were actually freaked out. Wasn't he in the middle of a shift? Why would he need you to come over? Chris was at school and all of your mutual friends were with him.

Before you can try getting him to talk and explain what's going on he hangs up, leaving you in the dark.

You shove the vegetables into a Tupperware box and store them in the fridge before grabbing your keys and hurrying to your car.

When you arrive about ten minutes later you almost forget to lock your car, already calling for Eddie. Noting how instead of the usual buzzing around of several people, the firehouse seemed empty.

“Eddie?” You call out again, walking between the firetrucks with your phone clutched in your hand as you'd forgotten your purse in the hurry.

Huffing when you can't find him you stop walking and look around again, “Eddie! I came as quickly as I could, where are you and what was so urgent?” You hope he's the one hearing you and not some colleague you'd never met because that would just be embarrassing.

He looks over the railing of the loft, a pinched expression but otherwise fine expression on his face. He didn't seem to be in pain nor in any haste - you were getting gradually more annoyed by the fact you had sped here, expecting some grand emergency.

“Come up,” he says and licks his lips, a habit of his when he is nervous. You squint suspiciously and walk up the stairs.

When you do, he stands at the end of the stairs, blocking your vision from the rest of the loft.

“Eddie? What the hell is going on?”

He swallows and you can see some sweat beading on his forehead and temple. Worriedly you put the back of your hand against his forehead, not feeling any high temperature which simply confuses you more. He stares basically blankly at you before finally moving again.

“Baby,” he starts and at any other time you would've immediately smiled and melted into a puddle of adoration for this man, but right now you're slightly pissed he'd stressed you for seemingly no reason.

“We've been together for almost two years.” He keeps going and you nod slowly. What is he getting at?

“I love you. More than anything else.” You smile and chuckle a bit, “Excluding Chris…” He looks down with a short laugh and nod, “He loves you too.”

“Eddie, this is super cute and wholesome but why did you want me to come here for that? Any near death experiences I should know about that prompted this?”

He bites his lip and shakes his head. He slowly and gently intertwines his hand with yours and kisses the back of yours, holding eye contact. It makes you smile and fluster, looking to the side with a shy smile.

“There's no one in this world I could imagine being a better woman to me than you. You complete me and Chris. And I want to… I want to ask you something.”

It feels so surreal what he's hinting at that you don't believe your own intuition, simply wiping your eyes, “Eddie, don't make me cry I'll look like a panda,” you warn for a lack of a reaction, hoping your mascara at least survived the first few tears.

He chuckles and then slowly gets on one knee, your hand still cradled in his. You can't contain your sob when he kneels, making it clear what he's going to ask you.

Instead of asking the question he looks over his shoulder where Chris starts walking your way, a sign in his hands with that exact question on it. When Chris stands next to Eddie and looks at you with that adorable smile you can't help but sob, quickly reaching out to pull him into your arms and kiss the top of his head.

Catching Eddie's gaze you nod your head and bury further into Chris, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

The boy in your arms giggles and drops the sign to wrap his arms around your waist. “Told you, dad!” He calls and you laugh tearily.

“Yeah, you did, bud.” Eddie smiles fondly and wraps his arms around both of you. You see Buck motioning Chris to come to him, which he gladly does, considering Buck is still Christophers hero, and you hide your face behind a hand as Eddie slowly slides a ring onto your left hand.

There's an applause behind you from the rest of your closest friends, Chris sitting on Bucks hip as he giggles.

However you're focused entirely on the man in front of you, his hazel eyes teary as well when he kisses your knuckle and leans his forehead against yours.

“Te amo mucho, mi amor,” he mumbles against your forehead and kisses it, making you laugh happily. He wipes the last of your tears tenderly and you look at him with pure adoration.

“I love you so much.” He smiles and someone yells - you're pretty sure it's Buck because a smaller, high pitched voice echoes the same word - ‘kiss!’.

You shake your head in amusement but are caught off guard when Eddie surges forward and passionately and deeply kisses you, one hand holding you by your neck and the other still holding your left hand.

“Ew,” Chris says loud enough for everyone to burst into laughter and you and your now fiancé to laugh as well and break the kiss.

“What?” He asks offended when Buck pinches his side (though he looks like he could very well be the one to make Chris voice their shared distaste for the PDA).

You smile at the people you considered family, especially when Bobby clears his throat and points to the already set table, “Dinner’s ready, so let's eat!”

You sit between Eddie and Chris, the former's hand never leaving your thigh, yours laying on top.

“I just realized this means we're gonna have to deal with their PDA every day now…” Buck mentions, looking genuinely scared.

Hen seemingly kicks his shin under the table because he yelps and flinches before pouting and raising his hands in mock surrender. And wow, you couldn't be happier.

[fictionally-driven]

You Deserve Better

Pairing: Calcharo x f!reader Word count: 4020 words

Trigger warnings: Injury mention, stress, anxiety, implied relationship, angst, heartbreaks

Plot: Calcharo, burdened by his dark past and aware of the danger he poses to (Y/N), is unable to see how his choices hurt her. To ensure that she gets the life she deserves, Calcharo makes an impossible choice.

Author Note: I am not paying for anyone's therapy and I apologize in advance for hurting y'all :3 This fic was inspired by the song You Deserve Better by James Arthur

The door creaked open with a hesitant groan; its sound amplified in the dead silence of the house. Calcharo stepped inside, every movement deliberate, every step weighed with the exhaustion that clung to him like the grime and dried blood matted against his skin. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and iron, mingling with the faint aroma of alcohol wafting from the living room.

He paused, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. Calcharo moved with practiced stealth, mindful not to disturb the peace. Yet, as he stepped into the living room, a sharp scent of alcohol pricked his senses, cutting through the familiar mustiness of home.

In the living room, he saw her—(Y/N). Her head was bowed, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. A nearly empty bottle of wine lay cradled in her lap, her fingers gripping it like a lifeline. The sight pierced through Calcharo’ s hardened exterior. His heart clenched painfully at the sight. He had been supposed to return two days ago, but complications had delayed him. The mission had been brutal, and communication had been impossible. He knew she worried, but seeing her like this, shattered and vulnerable, was worse.

The sound of his footfall drew her attention. Her head snapped up, and the relief that washed over her face was instantaneous. "(Y/N)," he breathed, the single word heavy with unspoken apologies and unexpressed emotions.

For a heartbeat, she simply stared, as if ensuring he was real and not a figment of her desperate mind. Then, in an instant, she was on her feet, the bottle forgotten as it clattered to the floor. She crossed the space between them in a few quick strides, flinging herself into his arms with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of him.

"Oh, thank God," she murmured against his chest, her voice trembling. "I was so worried... I couldn't reach you... I feared the worst..." The grime and blood smeared onto her clothes, but she didn't seem to care. All that mattered was that he was here, alive.

Calcharo held her close, his arms encircling her with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the brutality of his profession. He could feel her trembling, her body wracked with the remnants of her sobs. He rested his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes as he soaked in her presence. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget the bloodshed, the danger, and just be here, with her.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice roughened by exhaustion. "I'm here, (Y/N)."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands cupping his face. Her thumbs traced the lines of dirt and blood, her eyes scanning his features as if reassuring herself that he was truly there, in one piece.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Two days, Calcharo... I didn't know if you were ever coming back."

He could see the toll those two days had taken on her—dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and drawn. The weight of his absence was etched into every line of her expression.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words falling heavy and sincere. "The mission... it took longer than expected.”

(Y/N) nodded in understanding, her eyes softening with acceptance. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked.

Calcharo opened his mouth to respond, but she already knew the answer. "Of course, you haven't," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "I'll whip something up quickly. You should shower and get cleaned up in the meantime."

She always did this—pushing aside her own worries to care for him. She was a good woman, far too good for a man like him. He'd put her through situations like this too many times already, and every time, she was patient, loving, unwavering. He simply nodded, retreating to the shower to clean the grit off him while she headed to the kitchen.

The shower hissed to life, and as the hot water cascaded over him, he could smell her shampoo, her soap—those familiar, comforting scents that grounded him, reminding him that he was back home. He scrubbed the grime and blood off his skin, but he couldn't scrub away the memories, the guilt, the deeds he'd done. The water turned pink as it swirled down the drain, a cruel reminder that some stains never truly fade.

Patting himself dry, he slipped into a pair of pants and draped a towel over his shoulders. The mirror reflected a man weary beyond his years; his eyes shadowed with memories too dark to recount. With a heavy sigh, he left the bathroom, the comforting scent of her products still lingering on his skin. He couldn't delay any longer. He needed to check on (Y/N).

Walking into the kitchen, he found her standing by the stove, her hands moving deftly as she prepared a simple meal. Despite her woozy state from the alcohol, she was focused, determined to take care of him. Calcharo approached quietly, his presence announcing itself only when he was close enough to touch her. He took over the cooking process without a word, gently nudging her aside.

Her eyes traversed his form, widening as they fell upon a gnarly cut on his forearm. "Calcharo, you're hurt," she gasped, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and reprimand. She clicked her tongue, rushing to get the medical kit.

"Let me see," she said, her tone shifting to the professional calm of a medic. (Y/N) was a former medic, and dealing with injuries was second nature to her. She laid out the supplies with a precision born of habit, her hands moving swiftly but with a tenderness that belied the severity of the wound.

Calcharo watched her work in silence, the ache in his chest deepening as he realized how much he relied on her strength, her compassion. She cleaned the wound methodically, her touch gentle yet firm.

"It's deep," she murmured, her voice tinged with concern as she applied antiseptic with careful precision. "You should have taken care of this sooner."

"I didn't notice," Calcharo replied quietly, his gaze fixed on her face. "I was... distracted."

She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his as if trying to read the depths of his soul. "I worry about you," she admitted softly, her fingers wrapping gauze around his arm to secure the dressing. "Every time you go out there..."

Calcharo’ s heart clenched at her words, the weight of her worry pressing down on him. He reached out, cupping her cheek gently with his clean hand, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "I know," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I am sorry, love…”

She didn't protest. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly as if seeking solace in his warmth. For a moment, they simply stood there, bound together by unspoken words and shared experiences.

Calcharo knew. He knew in the depths of his soul that his profession, his life as the leader of the Ghost Hounds, was a poison seeping into (Y/N)'s veins. It wasn't just the worry etched on her face every time he left, nor the fear that gnawed at her when he returned battered and broken. By being with him, by loving him, she willingly walked a path fraught with danger. She put herself at risk, entwined her fate with his, despite the inevitable peril that shadowed his every step.

And yet, she didn't seem to mind. She stood beside him, unwavering in her support. She saw goodness in him where he saw only shadows. She believed in him, whispered words of reassurance that he was a good man, despite the blood on his hands and the darkness in his heart.

But Calcharo knew better. He had seen good men—General Jiyan, Mortefi—men with strong moral compasses who fought for justice and righteousness. They were the kind of men who did what was right, not just what was profitable. Unlike him.

As they cooked in silence, (Y/N) hummed a soft tune under her breath, a melody that spoke of innocence and hope. Calcharo couldn't help but contrast her purity with the darkness that clung to him. She was kind, selfless in a way he could never be. Since her arrival, many members of the Ghost Hounds relied on her medical expertise, freely given without any thought of profit. It was a stark contrast to his own dealings, where every transaction was a negotiation, every job a calculation of risk and reward.

The smell of alcohol lingered on her breath, a subtle reminder of her own struggles, her own ways of coping with the weight of their reality. Calcharo glanced at her, a pang of guilt tightening his chest. She deserved better than this life, than him. He wanted to protect her, shield her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both. But how could he, when he was the very embodiment of that darkness?

He finished preparing the meal mechanically, his movements precise but lacking his usual efficiency. Each chop of vegetables, each stir of the pot, felt like a ritual to stave off the inevitable conversation looming between them.

As they sat down to eat, she launched into stories about the Lawless Zone they inhabited, her voice animated despite the weariness that lined her features. Calcharo listened intently, his attention divided between her words and the weight of his own thoughts.

She spoke of the baker who had mastered the art of baking in makeshift ovens, of children who startled learning how to use grappling hooks to navigate the treacherous terrain. Her anecdotes painted a picture of resilience and adaptation in a place where survival was a daily battle. She found joy in the small victories of others, weaving tales that brought warmth to their otherwise harsh reality.

Calcharo ate in silence, marveling at how effortlessly she embraced life in the Lawless Zone. In this unforgiving environment where alliances shifted like sand in the wind, where trust was a luxury and betrayal a constant threat, (Y/N) saw good in everyone. It was a trait that set her apart, a reminder of the innocence she carried despite the injustice that had led her here.

But he knew the truth of her exile, the injustice that had ripped her from a life of healing and service. Some faceless bureaucrats in the New Federation had condemned her for a crime she didn't commit, tarnishing her reputation and casting her out. Yet, despite the bitterness that could have consumed her, she continued to trust, continued to give of herself without hesitation. The bitterness of the betrayal still lingered, a wound that hadn't fully healed. Yet, despite everything, she had found it in herself to trust again—to trust him.

As they cleaned up after dinner, (Y/N) moved to tidy the living room while Calcharo washed the dishes with a methodical precision. The clink of porcelain against porcelain echoed in the silence, a counterpoint to the tumultuous thoughts racing through his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, she deserved peace, she deserved better.

When they finally retired for the night, exhaustion weighed heavily on Calcharo, but sleep eluded him. He lay in bed beside (Y/N), her head nestled against his chest, her breathing steady and peaceful. His mind replayed the events of the day—the worry in her eyes when she saw his injury, the tenderness of her touch as she tended to him, the way she effortlessly navigated their tumultuous existence with grace and compassion. She trusted him, believed in him, despite the darkness that tainted his soul.

But he knew the truth. He was a man haunted by his past, burdened by the choices he had made and the lives he had taken. (Y/N) deserved better than the life he could offer her—a life steeped in danger, where every day was a battle for survival. She deserved peace, safety, and the chance to heal from the wounds inflicted upon her. The weight of his own inadequacies pressed down on him; a suffocating presence that threatened to consume him whole. He closed his eyes, willing himself to find solace in (Y/N)'s embrace, in the warmth of her love. Yet, despite her comforting presence beside him, sleep remained elusive.

As the hours slipped by, Calcharo stared into the darkness, wrestling with his demons. He knew he had to protect her, shield her from the inevitable storm that was to come for him. Beside him, (Y/N) stirred in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Calcharo tightened his embrace around her, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her back. He wished he could shield her from the nightmares that haunted him, from the harsh realities of their world. But he knew he couldn't.

As dawn painted the sky in soft hues of orange and pink, Calcharo lay awake beside (Y/N), his mind churning with resolve and sorrow. He knew what he needed to do, though he lacked the strength to follow through. The abyss stared back at him—a reminder of the darkness that had consumed him long ago. He had always known that staying in the kill-or-be-killed business was never the path to redemption. Despite numerous attempts to leave this life behind, each endeavor had failed. The Ghost Hounds relied on him, and so did the people of the Lawless Zone. They needed his leadership, his expertise in navigating the treacherous underworld they called home. He couldn't abandon them, not after everything he'd done, not after the lives he'd already taken, not after the lines he’d crossed and the enemies he’d made.

But she was different. (Y/N) deserved a life far removed from the danger and uncertainty that defined their existence. She deserved peace, safety—a chance to reclaim the innocence that had been unjustly stolen from her. There was no salvation for him, no redemption from the sins he had committed. But there was hope for her—hope in a future away from the Lawless Zone, away from him.

As the sun continued its ascent, casting long shadows across the room, Calcharo made his decision. He would hurt her one last time, knowing it would break her heart. But he had to do it—for her sake, because he knew she would never make that decision herself. Quietly, he disentangled himself from her embrace, careful not to disturb her peaceful slumber. He watched her for a moment, the curve of her cheek illuminated by the gentle morning light. She looked so serene in her sleep. Her chest rose and fell with her soft breaths.

With a heavy heart and a sense of grim determination, Calcharo quietly began packing his belongings. Each item he placed into his bag felt like another piece of himself being removed from their shared space. The room that once held their laughter and whispered confessions now echoed with the hollowness of impending separation.

He folded his clothes with methodical precision, placing them neatly into the duffel bag. His fingers lingered over small trinkets—a worn-out book she had gifted him, a bracelet she had made from scavenged materials—that held memories of happier times. Yet, these very memories weighed on him now, reminders of what he was about to do. Calcharo erased every trace of his presence in the house, wiping down surfaces, gathering stray belongings, and leaving the space eerily devoid of his essence. It was a painful process, akin to erasing a part of himself that had intertwined with hers over time. The ache in his chest grew with each passing moment, the reality of his decision settling heavily upon him.

Once everything was packed, he sat in the living room, waiting. The Ghost Hounds had swiftly removed his belongings from outside, leaving no visible trace of his imminent departure. He glanced at the door, knowing that soon she would awaken to a home that felt emptier, colder, without him. Hours passed like slow-moving shadows before (Y/N) stirred awake, her footsteps padding softly as she entered the living room, still half in the realm of dreams. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she greeted him with a murmured "Good morning."

Her smile faltered as she took in the expression on his face—the somber set of his jaw, the sadness that clouded his eyes. Concern knit her brows together as she approached, sensing something amiss in the air.

"Calcharo, what's going on?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with worry.

He gestured for her to take a seat beside him, his own features drawn with a mixture of resolve and sorrow. "I... I need to talk to you," he began, his voice rough with emotion. He paused, struggling to find the right words, knowing no syllable would make it easier.

(Y/N) sat down slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. Her concern deepened, a flicker of fear darting through her expression. "Calcharo, please," she implored softly, reaching out to touch his arm, seeking reassurance in the warmth of his skin. "You're scaring me. What's happened?"

Calcharo took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable pain he would inflict. He met (Y/N)'s worried gaze, her touch still warm against his arm, and he knew he had to be resolute.

"I... We can't do this anymore," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not right for you to be with me."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in disbelief, her grip tightening on his arm. "Calcharo, no," she protested, her voice trembling. "Please, don't do this. We can work through whatever it is. I love you.”

He shook his head, his own voice choked with emotion. "You deserve someone better than me," he insisted, his tone firm yet laced with pain. "Someone who can give you stability, peace... a life without constant fear and danger."

Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she fought against his words. "But I don't want someone else," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "I want you. I can adapt, I can learn. I can handle it."

Calcharo’ s heart clenched at her words, his resolve faltering for a moment. He gently detached her hand from his arm, standing up with a heaviness in his chest. "I don't want you to handle it," he said softly, his voice tinged with anguish. "I can't bear to see you caught in the crossfire, (Y/N)."

She stood up too, desperation etched on her face as she reached out to him once more. "Please, Calcharo," she begged, her voice trembling. "Don't leave me… I am begging you. Please…”

He turned away, unable to meet her pleading gaze. "I love you," he admitted hoarsely, pain lacing every word. "But this love... it's hurting you. It's not fair to you."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took a step closer, her hands reaching out as if to hold onto him, to anchor him in place. "I don't care about fair," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "I care about us. About what we have."

Calcharo closed his eyes briefly, the ache in his chest unbearable. “You might want me, (Y/N) … but I am not what you need. You deserve a righteous person by your side who can protect your innocence and kindness. That is not me.”

She gasped softly, a sob escaping her as she stumbled backward, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief. "No," she choked out, her whole-body trembling with the weight of his words. "Please don't do this..."

Calcharo’ s own voice wavered as he took a step closer, his hand hovering in the air as if torn between reaching out to comfort her and knowing he had to leave. "I love you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But this... this is the only way."

(Y/N) watched him, her entire being trembling with the weight of his words, with the finality of his decision. "Calcharo, please," she begged, her voice breaking as fell on the floor. "Don't leave me. I can't... I can't do this without you."

Calcharo stood before her, his heart breaking with every tear that streamed down her face. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to take her in his arms, to comfort her, to take back his words and pretend this moment never happened. But he knew he couldn't. Not for her sake. Not now.

"I've spoken to someone in Jinzhou," he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. "They've arranged housing for you. It is safe there and you can start afresh. You… you need to leave the Lawless Zone.”

(Y/N)'s sobs grew louder, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of his words. "No," she cried out, her voice raw with anguish. "Please, Calcharo..."

Calcharo’ s heart shattered into a million pieces at her words, but he pressed on, knowing it was the only way to protect her. "My people will protect you until then," he continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "But this... this is the last you'll see of me."

She collapsed onto the floor, her body convulsing with grief. "No, no," she sobbed, her voice raw with agony. "I can't... I can't do this without you."

Calcharo closed his eyes against the pain, struggling to maintain his composure. "I hope you find somebody else," he whispered, his voice barely audible over her cries. "Someone who will love you like nobody else." His words hung heavy in the air, a bitter admission of his own shortcomings. "I hope he gives you something real, someone who can put your well-being first." he continued, his voice breaking. "And I wish nothing but the best for you."

He knelt beside her, his hand hovering over her trembling form, wanting to touch her, to soothe her, but holding back. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with regret. "For all the pain, the hurt, the worry... I never wanted this for you. You’re the only person in this world that I cannot see get hurt because of my deeds." Her cries echoed in the room, reverberating off the walls as he apologized. "Thank you for welcoming me every time with an open heart."

He leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead, a silent farewell filled with a lifetime of love and regret. "Goodbye," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over her sobs.

With great effort, Calcharo stood up, his legs heavy as he turned away from her. Each step felt like a knife in his heart, tearing him apart as he walked toward the door. As he crossed the threshold, a single tear escaped his eye, and he quickly brushed it away, his face composed into its usual stoic mask.

He glanced back one last time, memorizing the sight of her curled on the floor, her heartache echoing in the empty room. It was the last time she would see him, but he promised himself he would always watch over her from afar, keeping her safe until she no longer needed his ghostly presence.

She would find someone to love her, he knew. She had so much love to give. And despite the ache in his own heart, he would be happy for her when that day came. Despite the agony that consumed him, Calcharo found a bitter solace in knowing that she would eventually smile again, even if it wasn't because of him. But for now, he bore the weight of their separation, the ache of leaving her behind. She would move on, and he would fade into memory. For her sake, he would bear the pain of being a ghost in her life, a memory of a love that was both profound and tragically unfulfilled.

And as he disappeared into the harsh sunlight of the Lawless Zone, he carried with him the weight of her sorrow and the echo of her cries, a haunting melody that would stay with him long after he had faded into the shadows.

[dreamy-demons]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

Pairing: Charles Lee Ray x Female Reader

CW: rough sex, rough oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, cheating, degrading, lots of insults, bad dom etiquette, slut shaming, kinda sorta dubcon(??? Could be read that way), overall very toxic relationship lol

Summary: Reader ditches Charles on a night out and hooks up with a stranger. This is the aftermath.

Word count: ~2000

He's the first thing you see when you walk through the door.

It's 3am and he sits illuminated only by the table lamp, casting harsh shadows across his face. He stands and slinks toward you and you try to swallow the fear that shoots through you.

"Where the fuck did you go last night?"

Eyes down, you try to push past him. He pulls you back.

"Oh no you're not walking away from me again. You bailed on me, I think I deserve to know where you went."

“I had to get some air, okay? I got some food and stayed at a friend's house. Not that I owe you an explanation.”

Charles had been a prick at the bar last night. You were sick of him flirting with other women and thought it would be fun seeing the look on his face when you gave him a taste of his own medicine. seeing him now, you realise it was not the case.

“Awww you needed to get some air?” He scoffs, “Is that what they're calling fucking some random prick from a bar these days? If you're going to play smart with me you can fuck off and sleep on the streets. I can find another whore like you on any corner of the city.”

"Do you want me to beg, is that what you want? Oh, please, Chucky, how could I ever make it up to you." Anger momentarily cuts through your fear, and you sink down to your knees, hands up in mock prayer.

"You've got to be shitting me." He groans, rolling his eyes. "Get up, you're embarrassing yourself…"

His words trail off as he looks down at you, so fragile beneath him. When his eyes meet yours something stirs within them. A hand grasps your chin and his eyes bore into you. Your heart skips a beat.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" You place a hand on his thigh.

"Let's see… You be a good girl and get me off real good tonight, and then maybe I'll forgive you. Okay? Maybe. How's that sound?" You quickly nod, sliding your hand further up his thigh until your hand ghosts over his dick. You feel his body tense.

"Shit, you're eager." He laughs pulling you up from the ground and dragging you across to the couch. Leaning back, he shoves you to your knees between his legs.

You make quick work freeing him from his pants. Spitting on your hand, you give him a few languid strokes before taking him into your mouth.

"God, that pretty fucking mouth of yours." He groans, possessive fingers grasping your hair. You work at his cock, taking him in deep, exploring him with your tongue. Charles is holding your hair so tightly it hurts, and you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him to alleviate the pain. His eyes bore into you, frenzied.

"Did you suck his dick like this too, babe?"

You whimper around him, not answering his question. He pushes your head down to the hilt, nose to his pelvis.

"I asked you a fucking question."

You struggle to let out an "mmhmm" as you nod. He pulls you off, spit dripping down your chin, and leans in close.

"You dirty fucking whore." He tuts. "This is the only cock you'll ever need, ya hear me? Because you seem to have forgotten that."

You're still gasping for air, but he pulls you back onto him.

"By the end of tonight babe, I promise you, you will never forget again."

He uses you like a toy, rutting into your throat, and all you can do is try not to choke and keep your aching jaw slack. Your eyes water with every thrust, leaving streaks of mascara running down your face. A thumb comes up to swipe away your tears, and if you didn’t know him better you’d almost be mistaken in thinking this was a sweet gesture. His eyes darken and his movements become erratic.

"That's. Right. Bitch. Cry. For. Me." He grunts out between thrusts. It’s not long before he spills deep into your throat. Charles pulls your head off him, and you make sure to keep eye contact while you swallow every drop.

He brings you up into his lap. You snuggle into his chest and he pets your hair. You relax, knowing you've satisfied him. He's forgiven you. Everything is okay and… wait. Why is he petting your hair? He sucks at aftercare. Fat chance he'd ever be petting you like this after the fight you just had. You pull back and he's grinning down at you, eyes dark.

"Oh you- you really thought" he can't get through his sentence without laughing. "Come on, did ya really think I would let you off that easily? Cause you really fucked me over back there, doll."

"I'm sorry Chuck, really. I'll be a good girl from now on."

"You think you've learned your lesson already?"

You nod, with the best innocent face you can give him.

"Yeahhh, I'm just not convinced. You need to be punished. And you know what?"

A hand slides between you, fingertips brushing past your stomach causing goosebumps all over your body. Your breath hitches when he slips under your skirt.

"I think you want to be punished."

You blush, averting your gaze.

"Look at how wet you are! I just had you choking on my dick til you couldn't breathe and you're getting off on it. You really are a whore." Two fingers slide into your hole, and he wastes no time finding that spot inside of you that makes you mewl. His thumb makes languid circles on your swollen clit, while he slowly pumps his fingers into you.

"More Chucky, please." You moan.

"More? You want more?"

"Please. I need it." You plead. It's nowhere near enough stimulation to get you close and it's driving you crazy. Instead of speeding up, he stops his movements entirely.

"Sorry doll, I don't think you deserve more right now."

You grip his shirt, whimpering. Your hips grind on their own desperately wanting him to start moving again.

"Stop fucking squirming." He growls, and you will yourself to stop. "Tell me again. What do you want?"

"I want more, Chucky. I love the way you feel inside of me, I want to cum on your fingers. I need it."

His fingers start to resume their motions, back at the same teasing pace.

"Ya know, I think I'm liking taking my time here." He grins.

Against all your better judgement you try again to move your hips, and you're met with a look that sends ice shooting down your spine.

Before you have time to react his hands are around your throat. You try to squeak out an apology but his grip is too tight. Your heart is beating so hard it feels like it's going to burst out your chest. Your life is completely in his hands. 'He could really do it right now.' You think to yourself, 'It was only a matter of time. Why did I ever think I was any different than all the people he killed?'

You pull at his wrists trying to pry him off you, pleading with your eyes. But he's stronger than you. And he's enjoying this far too much

"I already told you once to stop fucking squirming. You better think real hard before you try doing that again."

Finally he lets you go and you collapse against him. The air burns your lungs as you suck in big gulps.

"What do we say?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much Chucky, it'll never happen again I promise." God, how much more pathetic could you get?

"That was so fucking hot, my dick's already hard again. How are we gonna fix this now?"

Bastard. Of course he got off on that.

"Fuck me, please, I need it. I want to make you feel good. I'll do anything."

He finds his way back to your pussy and pumps quickly, fingers curling into you.

"Let's get this cunt nice and wet." He says, as if you weren't already more wet than you'd ever been.

"And don't even think about cumming without my permission, got that?"

His thumb on your clit moves in exactly the right way, tight circles that send shocks through your entire body. You rest your head on his chest, unable to do anything but let the pleasure wash over you. Your walls flutter around him as he rubs against the right spots with each thrust.

"God, I'm so close! Please, please can I cum now?" You're sure you've dripped all over his lap by this point. You don't think you can hold back for much longer. You're right there you just need- NO!

That asshole! He stopped. Again. The strangled cry of frustration you let out sends him into a laughing fit.

"Sorry babe, want you cumming on my dick tonight. That's kinda the whole point of this lesson. Hands and knees. Now."

You scramble off his lap and get on all fours. Chucky flips up your skirt and smears the wetness from his fingers all over your ass.

You feel his head nudge at you, but instead of entering, he slides through your folds, causing frustrated curses to fall from your lips.

"You look so fucking gorgeous like this." He groans, "This is where you belong. Spread open, dripping, desperate for my cock."

He keeps dragging through your folds, enjoying the way you twitch when he grazes your clit. Then, without warning, he sheaths himself into you in one smooth stroke. Both of you let out a groan as he holds himself deep within you, the feeling of being so full leaving you momentarily breathless. When he starts thrusting his movements are rough, hips slamming against your ass.

"You wouldn't even know what to do without me, you know that, doll? Nobody else fucks you the way I do.”

A stroke hits you in a way that makes you yelp. He takes notice, adjusting his angle so that every thrust nudges the bundle of nerves inside you.

“Nobody else is going to satisfy this needy pussy, and you'll come crawling back here begging for me."

You never understand why it turned you on to hear him talk like this, but he was right. You loved him having power over you. Your little hookup earlier that night had completely paled in comparison to what Charles was doing to you now. You hadn't even come close to cumming with that guy.

Even without him touching your clit, you can already feel your climax approaching. You feel his weight press down on you as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Fuck, baby. I want to fill up this sweet cunt.”

“Can I cum now?” You whine, tears pricking at your eyes. Please Chucky, I'm so close. I'm yours, baby, please. Let me cum with you.”

Charles lets out a pleased groan and his fingers find their way back to your clit. It only takes a few swipes for you to cum with a strangled cry, arms giving out beneath you. The spasms of your soft walls are enough to send Charles over the edge and you feel the warmth of his seed spread within you.

“That's it Doll, take it all. Good slut.” He rides out his orgasm and then pulls out, slapping you on the ass.

After catching your breath you sit up to find him lounging back, already reaching for a cigarette. Typical. You throw your arms around his waist and lay against his chest.

“I saw you leave with him, that little fucking prick.” He lights his smoke and takes a drag. “I followed you back to his shitty excuse for a home. I know where he lives”

You look up at him, pouting.

“It wasn't his fault, Charles. Can't we leave him out of this?”

He lets out a chuckle and shrugs you off of him.

“Don't play innocent now, sweetheart,” he says, pulling his pants back on. “I know you'd love to tear him apart just as much as I would.”

At that, you flash him a sheepish grin.

“Hurry up and get dressed. You've learnt your lesson. Class is in session for your little friend.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 21

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: have a wonderful day!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gate bell buzzes and you rush from the kitchen to answer, the porcelain clinking as you leave it in the sink. You flit into the hall and to the entryway. As you pull the door open, you sense a shadow and turn to see Laufeyson at the top of the stairs. He watches but does not speak. You waver before you find the strength to continue on.

You shut the door gently and try to breathe through your rattling nerves. You don't understand what's going on. The words Laufeyson said still don't make sense to you. He can't mean what you think. You have to be overthinking. Yet the tickle of his touch remains on your skin and fuels your doubts.

How can you say no to him? If you do, he might say the same...

You repress a shudder as you reach the gate and hold the button to roll it back. Ronan steers through in his truck, pulling in just behind Laufeyson's flashy ivory car. You let the gate close and approach the truck bed as the carpenter climbs out.

"Miss," he opens the rear door to grab his bag, "you look nice, special occasion?"

You look down at yourself and wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. It's sunny but it isn't the weather that has you fired up. You force a smile that makes your cheeks twitch.

"Uh, no, they're just...new," you sway as you push your hands behind you, "erm, so I guess... you should get started."

"I should," he checks his watch, a thick leather band with a tarnish face, "I hate to get in the way of your work. Or ruin your fancy clothes."

"Oh, uh, it's not... I'll bring you some water," you offer.

"Hmm," he hums as he shuts the door, "you're too kind for your own good. Nice to see you doing something for yourself for a change."

"I..." you swallow the truth. "Thanks."

"Not that you didn't look good before," he insists.

"Well, I..." you murmur, looking away bashfully.

"I'm talking a lot," he chuckles, "you know where I'll be."

He turns and stalks off towards the house. You blow out a breath as your eyes are drawn to the front door. Mr. Laufeyson stands in the frame, again observing you, his gaze narrowed to slits. He reminds you of a snake in coil about to strike.

The door shuts before you can reach it. You enter and he's gone. It's like some game. You return to the kitchen to finish tidying up the porcelain from tea. You set it away in the glass cabinet and fill a fresh jug of water. As you place it on the patio, Frigga pops her head up from the roses, a healthy bouquet in hand as she snips the stems with a pair of cutters.

"These will be nice in the dining room," she suggests as she shows the white petals, "Maybe a few for the study?"

"Uh, yeah," you plunk down the pitcher and glass. "Did you need any water? This is for the carpenter."

"Oh, he's here?" She says, "I didn't see him. Perhaps I can ask him about the flower boxes."

"Yeah, uh, maybe," you agree, "I'll be, er, upstairs working. Got a lot to catch up on from yesterday."

"No worries at all, darling," she assures you.

You retreat and stumble to get your shoes off once more, mindful of the rules. That's the problem. Everyone is forgetting the rules. Ronan does the gazebo not the flower boxes, you don't wear your shoes in the house, and Loki-- Mr. Laufeyson is just your boss.

You rush up the stairs, nearly too at a time, and reach the top out of breath. You hurry into the library and close yourself up inside. It's just you. It strikes you how much you missed being alone. These last few weeks have felt so crowded. Constricted even.

You finally make yourself sit still. You find it hard not to wriggle in the seat as you watch the laptop screen load. It feels so long ago that you did this. It's all backwards and you don't like it. You like clear lines. You are separate from Mr. Laufeyson. You are below. You have your tasks and he has more important concerns.

You focus on balancing his bills. There are a lot of outstanding invoices. You're still learning how to keep it all organized. You feel a bit out of your depth with all the numbers but you excelled at math all those years before.

A subtle click barely registers but nestles in your ear. You squint at the screen as you watch a tutorial on Excel functions. You're still figuring that out too.

"The carpenter has been dealt with?" Mr. Laufeyson states as much as he asks.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you confirm and pause the video. You glance behind him at the open door to his study.

"Very good," he says, "he will work faster without distraction."

You nod. You take his point. He is right. It might be better that the project is finished sooner than later. There's a big enough mess, the type you don't know how to clean up.

He strides around the library, perusing the shelves as if they are new to him. He feels along the spines of books and drags his fingers along the wood. You watch him, waiting. For what, you don't know.

"Don't let me distract you," he says without looking at you as he slides out a volume. "As you were."

Your eyes flick down obediently. You try to refocus but forget where you were. You open the ledger to make notes as you restart the video. You can sense him lurking around the room, closer and closer as his silhouette blurs the edge of your vision.

The narrator continues their instruction as you open the transcript to follow along. Mr. Laufeyson inches closer and closer, walking just behind your laptop, then around one side of your desk before doubling back. Again, he looms behind the screen and strolls along the other side. And at once, he's behind you.

You tense as you feel him watching over your head. You keep your hand moving as you take notes, writing down words you don't process. Your pulse thrums in your temples as you feel him leaning over you. His hands rest on your shoulders and he kneads them as you sit frozen.

He bends further and further until you feel his breath on your crown. He nuzzles your hair as his hands trail slowly across your shoulders. They close loosely around your neck as he exhales with a groan. Just like the one you heard earlier.

You gulp against his grip as your pen stills and you stare blankly at the screen, the narrator hazing to a drone and the colours fogging together. You drop the pen and drag your hand up to touch his. He tuts as he lowers his head next to yours, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks.

"I didn't say stop," he slithers as heat scalds over you.

You shiver and remove your hand from his, reaching for the pen instead. You pick it up, trembling as you try to read your own writing, your chin pressing to his knuckle as he tightens his hold on you. It's just scribbles, broken lines and squiggled waves.

"Notice too, you did not either," he whispers against the shell of your ear and draws away, all once releasing you. 

You gasp as he swiftly side steps and strides across the room. He retrieves the volume from the shelf and reclines across the chaise, lazily opening the pages with a sigh. You stare at him as he lingers, engrossing himself in the book as you forget all about the spreadsheets and negative balances.

👠

Mr. Laufeyson leaves without a word. A taunt in its own right. He’s toying with you impeccably. His every move, his every glance, even something as careless as breathing is a statement. He’s watching. He’s waiting. For something…

Your frustration boils over and you snap shut the lid of the laptop. You haven’t been able to focus since his intrusion. The weight of his hands on your throat remains even with him gone. At moments, it feels as if you are truly being strangled.

You get up and resign yourself to something less complicated. You near the door and stop to peek at the one attached to the study. It’s open still but you wouldn’t think to peer through it. Is he there still? Listening? Expecting something?

You go into the hall and descend, each step expecting Laufeyson to call you back, to reproach you for straying. You reach the bottom without obstacle and exhale. You hear noise in the kitchen and follow it.

Frigga is there, placing a rectangle tray on the counter. She is comfortable as she moves around lightly. She knows where everything is as she arranges her ingredients and tools. You admire her. You wish you had that confidence, especially now as you drown in uncertainty.

“Oh, darling, wonderful timing,” she praises as she looks up, “I thought to do some cooking before I go. I’m sure you know Loki is rather avoidant of doing so himself. Why don’t you join, hm?”

You blink and hesitate, glancing over your shoulder. It isn’t exactly work. 

“Don’t you fret for him, if he has issue, I will take it up with him,” she dismisses your unspoken doubts. “Come, come, I want to share with you my best recipes.”

“Okay,” you cross to her. She is undeniable, besides, you don’t think Laufeyson would be pleased to hear if you were to reject his mother. 

“Beer-marinated pork,” she announces, “roasted turnip and some hand-made bread, of course.”

You nod and twiddle your fingers. You’ve never had beer-marinated anything. Well, your culinary experience is lacking.

“Family recipes,” she explains, “adapted over the years. There was a time the bread was baked on rocks and the turnip would be roasted over embers. Imagine.”

She trills and spins around, gathering more supplies for her growing array. As she faces the counter again, she sighs.

“I much rather prefer the modern methods, of course. Not so tedious and Loki has ensured the best,” she goes to the stacked ovens embedded in the wall and sets the temperature, leaving the upper one to preheat. “A pity, such a nice kitchen and it’s barely used. That cook of his… she doesn’t know our recipes.”

You listen, too anxious to summon any sort of comment. She doesn’t seem to notice as she carries the conversation smoothly. 

“Do you cook? You must,” she answers her own question, “we will make enough for you to take home for your father. If he can’t stomach beer, I can make a sauce.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s okay–”

“I insist,” she overrides you, “it’s a labour of love for me. I love cooking. That is the one thing Sif– his ex-wife wasn’t fond of. She was always at the stable.”

You nod, trying to unravel the story from the stray threads. Little by little, you learn more of the woman who used to live here. In your head, she is sophisticated and splendid. And the way the speak of her, they seem to mourn her as much as you do your own mother.

“We will need onion and some spices, we’ll mix it in with the beer for our marinade,” she instructs, “a bowl…” she turns to take a silver bowl from the nested stack.

She puts it before you and directs you. She stands back as she lets you do it yourself. It’s nice to have the simple tasks set out one by one, even if it feels as if she’s judging your every move. You submerge the pork chops to marinate and she turns your attention to the turnip.

“Be careful chopping, turnips can be difficult,” she girds.

You shy away from the large knife and the hard rutabaga. It’s not easy to saw through as you rock the knife this way and that. You only get halfway through before the blade sticks immovably.

“Allow me,” she takes over and with a jerk, finishes the chop. The turnip splits in two as the knife meets the thick cutting board. “A bit of elbow grease…”

“Mother, what are you up to?” Laufeyson enters with a hand in one pocket.

“Oh, you know, dear, I can’t leave you without dinner.”

“I have a cook,” he counters.

“Mmm, yes, but nothing like a homemade meal,” she tisks.

He looks at you as he nears. You wipe your hands on a dish cloth and wring it tight. Frigga continues on unbothered, turning one half of the turnip on its flat side and chopping it into chunks.

“She’s helping,” she says, “please don’t take her from me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he shrugs, his lips slightly curving.

“You were thinking it,” she huffs, “she can take some time to cook. Perhaps, she should do so regularly. It would save you money.” 

“But not time. She has other tasks.”

“You being the most onerous,” Frigga chirps as she transfers the chunks into the pan.

“Perhaps,” he does not look away from you as you twist the dish cloth to its limit. He slips his hand from his pocket and lets it brush up his shirt, “I am what you raised me to be.”

“I was saying to the darling earlier,” she ignores his snipe, “the next time you visit, you might bring her along.”

“Eh, next time…” Laufeyson swallows as his lips fall straight, “maybe…”

“You are going to visit, aren’t you?” Frigga whines, “you and your father, I don’t know why you just can’t get along.”

“I tried, mother, I did. You saw–” he stops himself, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Very much. You’re family.”

“Are we? He’s disowned me more than he’s ever claimed me.”

“You’re too much alike, that’s your problem,” she chides, “and you’re both too stubborn to see it.”

“We will discuss this another time,” he says as he peeks at you again, “in private.”

“Should I…” you begin.

“Stay,” Frigga and her son command at the same time.

“I’m not sending her home empty-handed,” Frigga says, “so you will drive her home, yes? It will be too much to take on the bus.”

“Why, of course,” he accepts, “it would be my pleasure.”

“Mm, and the carpenter, he fixed the flower boxes already. A few loose nails,” she grins, “nice man, that one. I might recommend him to your father.”

Laufeyson pokes his tongue out as he squints. He turns his gaze back on you. You miss when he barely looked at you, when he hardly even acknowledged your existence. And yet, you're just the same. You can't say a word.

“I haven’t dealt with him much,” he says pointedly, “that is the house manager’s concern.”

“Probably better off,” Frigga snickers, “she won’t drive him away.”

[httpswritings]

We don't have to wait all night. - Katie McCabe & Hayley Raso.

Additional info: inspired in The Veronica's song “In My Blood”. You may want to check it out before reading.

Warnings: suggestive tone, not smut.

Summary: Katie and Hayley meet in Hayley's and Caitlin's hotel room.

Hayley had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a few knocks on the door. She only had a towel covering her body. Her messy, wet hair falling onto her shoulders, dropping some droplets on the floor.

“Caitlin, did you forget your key?”, Hayley shouted.

Two more knocks.

“Who is it?”, she asked.

Nobody replied, but the knocks kept coming in.

Stressed-out, she opened the door in a not too friendly way.

“Dear lord, WHO is— Oh, hello...Katie? Can I help you?”

But Katie did not answer instantly. Instead, she glanced at Hayley, from the top to the bottom, slightly aroused.

“Oh, yeah. I'm looking for Caitlin. She told me that she was staying in this room. Room 43, is it wrong?”

“No, no it's not. Come in if you want!”

As Katie entered the room, Hayley told her that Caitlin hadn't come yet to the hotel after the match as she had to stay to do some work related stuff, not specifying anything else more.

“You can wait for her here. I don't think she's gonna take long.”

“Better to wait here than in the lobby, but only if you're comfortable with the idea.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Katie kept silent but glanced again all over Hayley's figure and then smiled at her.

Understanding what Katie was referring to, Hayley said, “Oh, yeah, don't worry. I'll get changed in the bathroom. Take a sit on the be—, on the floor, or do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure you're okay with me staying here? You seem a bit nervous.”

“No! I mean, ye—, I MEAN, I'm not nervous. I find it funny. Not even one hour ago, we were on each other's throats during the match.”

Katie chuckled over Hayley's comment.

“Yeah, it's funny if you think so. I put you to work today.”

“You what? I put you to work. Don't get confused, McCabe.”

“That's not what the streets are saying. They all agree with me beating your ass.”

This should've made Hayley angry, it somewhat did, but she was also enjoying this conversation to the point that she had forgotten that only one medium-size towel was covering her body.

“Oh, so you wanna talk about what people are saying about you? Maybe you won't like everyone's opinions.”

Katie had a few ideas in her mind about what Hayley referring too. The Australian woman was right, Katie was not in the mood to talk about the gossip people have been tying her name to. Instead she tried to changed a little bit the direction of the conversation.

“What about you? What opinion do you have about me?"

The Irishwoman couldn't properly focus on the conversation. She had that one player, the one who had been fighting with during the match, almost naked in front of her, with a light brown towel around her body. Her hair falling down her shoulders in a messy way, some droplets falling onto Hayley's soft skin, and the essence of shampoo and body lotion impregnating the room.

“I've heard you are into Aussies.” Hayley said with a smirk, referring to Katie being linked to Caitlin Foord.

“Anything else?”

“You seem the type of person who's really sweet off the pitch. A little bit timid I'd say, in some occasions only. You probably hate feeling vulnerable, so you are very selective with whom you let to know your most authentic self. Very family oriented too. Am I wrong?”

“No. I'm actually impressed.", She didn't like Hayley almost perfectly spotting her personality, did she?

“Good. My turn. What do you think about me?”

“I haven't gotten a good first impression from you.” Katie lied. She felt the need to. Hayley was getting too close to see her soft side. She was right, Katie was too protective over people seeing her vulnerability.

Was she, Katie Alison McCabe, the one who usually intimidates people, the one who was feeling intimidated by Hayley Raso?

“I haven't met a lot of Irish people. Are they all these arrogant like you?"

“Hey! Watch your mouth.“ The Irishwoman said as she clenched her jaw, feeling a bit uneasy.

Katie felt such a pride from Ireland and from what it took to represent her country, that Hayley's comment didn't sit well with her.

“I'm sorry. It was not my intention to insult your people. I wanted to tease you, not to harm your identity as an Irish.", said Hayley sincerely, worried about having pushed the conversation too far.

Katie found herself smiling as a way of accepting Hayley's apology but immediately stopped as she felt a tingling sensation in her abdomen.

“Maybe I should get into the bathroom to get changed. You've had enough of me for today.” As Hayley headed to the bathroom door, Katie stood up.

“No! I mean, don't. I get it was a misunderstanding, and you didn't mean it. It was a good tease, tho. If that's what you wanted, you did succeed with it.”

The Irishwoman was going through such an internal conflict. Her rational mind was warning her about the consequences of what this conversation could lead to. But on the other hand, her irrational mind, the one who was being tricked by the lustful atmosphere and Hayley's presence, was aiming her to get lost in Hayley's teasing.

She bit her lower lip and took two steps towards Hayley, not too far away, not too close to her.

The Australian woman was intoxicated by Katie's strong gaze.

For the first time in a really long time, she felt unaware of what to do, so she kept in silence.

“So?”

“So, what?”

Katie noticed she had a little bit more of control over the situation, and she was starting to enjoy every second of it. It was her opportunity to tease Hayley back, and she was not going to waste the occasion to push it until the very end. No matter how it turned out.

“We, the Irish, are quite friendly as long as we feel comfortable with the other person."

Katie took another step forward.

“I know. I just told you I didn't mean t—"

“Shhh. Do you really know?”

Another step forward.

“Because maybe I'll have to be the one who shows you exactly how we truly are.”

Hayley's cheeks were started to have a reddish tone, so prominent as a contrast to her white skin.

“How— How are you— are you going to show me that?”

“Well. You've seen me on the pitch. Why don—”

“Caitlin has seen you too, and you were going to see her after the game. That's why you're here.” Hayley said in a sharper tone, cutting the lustful atmosphere off.

“Maybe we do have something going on. Maybe something not too serious. Maybe that won't make you deny my offer.”

“Maybe I do. I'm no one's sloppy seconds.”

“I know. I don't want you to feel as the second option.” Katie took a final step forward and took Hayley's right hand with her left hand, quickly squeezing it.

“Don't feel obliged to. Take your time to think about it. You can call me anytime, beautiful.”

As Katie headed to the door, it was now Hayley's turn to stop her.

As she grabbed her left arm, she asked her to stay.

“I'm curious about you. I've heard that you said you enjoyed our match being a really physical one.”

“I did. Being physical on the pitch is one of my strengths as a player. I thought it was well-known”, Katie dramatically said, as she gained a cute chuckle from the Australian woman.

“Don't worry. It is well-known.” said Hayley as she rolled her eyes.

“You said— You said it was always a battle to play against me. Did you enjoy fighting against me as much as I did enjoy being physical with you?”

“You can tell I did. Not my favourite way of being physical, but I did have a great time.”

Katie's eyes opened widely as she held a shocked expression for a few seconds. She was not expecting that kind of answer from a Hayley Raso that was slightly embarrassed in front of her not even ten minutes ago.

“Did I scare you, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“You seem—”

“No. I'm fine. Just curious about you too. Tell me which way you enjoy being physical the most.”

“I don't have enough time to properly show you that. Caitlin's gonna arrive any time soon. Does she even know you're here waiting for her?”

“No.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Tell me what do you want, Katie, and with whom.”

As Katie sighed, the door slowly opened, so she grabbed Hayley into the bathroom and locked the door”

“Rass, I'm here! Hayley?"

“Yeah, Cait, I'm taking a shower. Well, I'm about to.” Hayley shouted from the bathroom as she turned on the tap.

“Okay.”

As the sound of the water falling down in the shower, Katie whispered, “She's not leaving?”

“Why the fuck would she leave, Katie? This is her room too. Now tell me why have you locked us in the bathroom?”

They both tried to not be heard by Caitlin, who was laying down on her bed scrolling through her phone.

“What's the plan?”

“You're asking me? You are the one who has locked us in the bathroom, with me being almost naked and you being this near me."

The water kept falling down the tap, camouflaging Katie and Hayley's voices.

“Look, we need to get out of here. You can message Caitlin and tell her to meet you in your hotel room, or in any other place. I can't take a shower for too long, or she will eventually get worried.”

“I haven't answered your question.”

“Katie, this is not the right ti—”

“Shh.” the Irishwoman said as she placed one finger on Hayley's lips.

“I have a thing going on with Caitlin. Nothing too serious. Kind of a fling as we both have just gotten out of a relationship. But it's not easy to have you like this in front of me.” she said as she let her head fall on Hayley's right shoulder. “It's not easy to smell your skin, to sense how soft it is.”

She slightly moved her head, making Hayley shiver.

“I want you to show me your favourite way to being physical, as you said earlier. Not here, not like this, because as you've said, we don't have enough time. I'm not implying to wait until nighttime, because we don't have to, but know that I also have the urge to show you my way of doing things. Things I want you to enjoy without being in a rush. Slowly but steady.”

As Hayley was at a loss of words, Katie continued.

“Don't feel pressured to accept my offer. Have in mind I don't have anything serious with Caitlin nor with anyone else. I'm not prepared yet. As you've said before, I don't like feeling vulnerable in front of people I don't consider close to me, so—”

“But, you're being vulnerable now while telling me this.”

“I know. And it's not easy. But it's sincere. I have no idea of how we are going to get out of here because even if Caitlin and I are nothing serious, I don't want to put you through this situation. But know that I'll be more than happy if today, tomorrow or whenever you feel ready, we spend some time enjoying each other's company.”

“Hayley? I need to use the bathroom.”

Both women inside the bathroom looked at each other with a worried expression.

“The door it's locked Cait. I'm sorry. Wait until I'm done.”

As she heard Caitlin swear, she pleaded Katie, “God, Katie, message her anything. She needs to get out of this room so you can leave.”

As Katie agreed to do so, she looked for her phone.

“What?”

“My phone's out there. On the bed.”

“WHA—”

“Shh.”

As Katie rushed to cover Hayley's mouth, Caitlin asked confused, “You okay, Rass?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Are you always this noisy?”

“Katie, not the time for this kind of jokes.”

“I'm not joki—”

“Rass, I'm going to Sam's room to use her bathroom. Take your time, girl. Let's see if when I come back you're still playing The Little Mermaid.”

As they heard Caitlin getting out of the room, Katie rushed to grab her phone and left, not before leaving a soft caress on Hayley's cheek, “Keep me updated, beautiful mermaid. You know my Instagram.”

Surprisingly, Katie succeeded into getting out of the hotel without being caught by any Australian members.

As she was on her way to her hotel, she received a few messages from Hayley.

hayleyraso: It wasn't easy for me either to have you so damn near me.

hayleyraso: Let me know if you have any ideas for our meeting...today

Katie smiled.

katie_mccabe11: I'll book a room in a hotel where there won't be any football players staying. Not an easy task, though.

hayleyraso: okay, pretty girl

katie_mccabe11: see you later 🧜‍♀️🫧🛁

[bveckers]

Risk

"You can just talk and I'll stare at your mouth"

Morgan cheli x fem! oc

Synopsis: when genos granddaughter moves in with him abruptly she forgets that he was going to throw a barbecue for them she wanders downstairs and meets a certain tall brown haired girl

Warning: none

Word count :1071

oc: james auriemma

Not proofread but enjoy!

It was a relatively hot day today but she had no plans of leaving the air conditioned home so she slipped on some black wide leg sweatpants that she realized were getting too tight for her though she didn't want to throw them out yet and grabbed the matching black long sleeve shirt for the set while simultaneously slipping on her mini platform uggs.

Mornings were never really a James thing. She was aware of the fact it was almost noon by now and she had yet to get out of bed. Rolling over and grabbing her phone she quickly confirmed it was noon before texting eve to come over. Almost immediately her phone buzzed with a reply confirming she was on her way.

Making her way downstairs she did her best to be as quiet as possible. Ever since she had moved in with her grandfather she had felt like a slight burden. She knew she wasn't and that he would never think of her like that but the move had been so sudden and necessary that she couldn't help but feel slightly guilty.

Geno had always preferred to spend his summer days quietly reading or watching TV in the living room but as she got closer to the stairwell she heard laughter coming from the backyard. She realized that geno had people over. Peering over the ledge so she wouldn't be noticed she saw around fourteen girls spread throughout the living room to the backyard.

She quickly ducked so that she wouldn't be noticed. Instead of making her way downstairs she went back into her bedroom and made her way towards the bathroom. She had previously skipped brushing her teeth and doing her skincare telling herself she would do it later because she wanted coffee. Now that that option was out of the picture she quickly brushed her teeth and did her skincare.

Her hair was one of her favorite things about herself but right now she found herself wishing she was bald so she wouldn't have to worry about it. She figured her best bet was to put it in french braids so it would be out of her face. Suddenly she heard the doorbell ring and she realized she had forgotten that Eve was coming over so she quickly ran to the stairs before stopping and walking quickly instead in order to appear more nonchalant.

She winced as she opened the door forgetting that she would have to introduce herself to the girls downstairs and would most definitely be expected to hang around downstairs for a little by geno. For now she brushed that thought aside and hugged the only friend she had here in storrs.

“Oh my God I missed you so much” eve said pulling her into a hug

“Are they looking at us?” asked James already feeling incredibly anxious

“yeah”

James pulled back and took a deep breath before turning around. She was met with almost half of the girls gawking at her like she was some circus freak. It seemed that they weren't aware that genos granddaughter had moved in.

“Hi” she said waving at them “do you know where geno is” she questioned feeling slightly weird about calling her grandfather by him first name.

A tall blonde girl answered her “yeah he's out back grilling”

James quickly thanked the girl before grabbing Eve's hand and walking outside. As she passed by the other girls she smiled at them as to not make a bad impression.

“Gramps” she said, calling for her grandfather. He turned around

“James I was wondering when you were gonna wake up” he laughs before hugging her quickly

She leans into him and whispers “who are all these girls”

“The girls from my team” he responds as if it were common knowledge

“Ohhhh” she says realizing that's why there were so many of them and why they were so tall.

She nods before pulling Eve towards the couch. She sits down next to a tall brunette with long hair. She smiles at her before realizing that they both have french braids.

“Hey we’re matching” she says enthusiastically pointing back and forth at their hair. The girl giggles before turning a slight shade of pink.

“Yeah we are” she replies with the same enthusiasm “ did you do them yourself” she asks tilting her head slightly

James nods in response “ I wish I could french braid that good” the girl says sighing

“I could teach you some day” James replies smiling at her

“I would love that” she exclaimed

“So” James said, pausing for a second before continuing “can I get your number?”

Of course you can” she replied blushing

James pulled out her phone and opened her contacts and handed her the phone. She quickly put in her number as well as her name and handed it back

“Morgan?” James said confirming her name

“Pretty name” she quickly added in a desperate attempt to flirt. Morgan looked at her and nodded

“I'm james”

“Pretty name”

They both giggled before Morgan pulled out her phone and gave it to James so she could put her number in as well. As James handed the phone back she said “it was nice meeting you but we're gonna go upstairs now” motioning between her and eve “you're welcome to come it's the first door on the right side of the stairwell”

“yeah maybe” Morgan replied leaning back and putting her arms behind her back, which James found far too attractive. She quickly nodded before turning about hoping that Morgan hadn't noticed the blush that crept over her face.

Before she walked inside she looked over at her grandfather who gave her a look and motioned at Morgan as if asking “what's all that about” rather than going over to talk to him she just shrugged. She figured she could tell him later.

She was pretty sure he wouldn't have a problem with her talking to or even possibly dating one of his players. She felt herself flush at the idea of possibly dating her. As soon as Eve and her stepped into the room they started jumping around.

“YOU GOT A HOT GIRLS NUMBER” eve screamed at at top of her lungs

“ I GOT A HOT GIRLS NUMBER” James repeated before her face dropped at the realization that they were screaming. She quickly shushed Eve before they both fell to the floor laughing.

[obae-me]

A Taste of His Own Medicine- Simeon

Guess who's back, back again, back with sick-fic posts again! Sorry that it's taken me a god-awful amount of time to post an update after my little teaser. Life often has a way of trying to ruin things, but I'll be damned if I don't manage to claw my way out of the depths to finish my works one inching crawl at a time! Anyways, I pray that this was worth the wait! Please, enjoy!

Peace. These last few days, the whole of the Devildom seemed to be experiencing a lull of sorts. Curses, vengeful items, creatures from another world, monsters, mania, and overall magical mayhem felt as if they were in hibernation. Or at least giving you a wide berth. Or perhaps the brothers were repaying your sympathies, beating back problems with several well-intentioned sticks. A much needed break in your opinion. The stars shone brighter, and you had never slept deeper. It was quite like being on vacation despite you still spending most of your time holed up in the House of Lamentation. Even the brothers appeared to be quarreling less than usual. You’d even be tempted to say they were getting along. Yes…there was nothing exactly like this feeling of peace. You continued to rub the towel against the back of your head and neck as you moved down the hall, feeling nice and refreshed after a calming shower. It was rather late into the evening. Dinner was over with and everyone in the House had mostly moved into their respective rooms to get ready for the night. The last week or so had been so normal and blissful, you had completely forgotten about the several ‘events that shall-not-be-named’; a cheap title coined by the brothers to stave off embarrassment. One which you gladly accepted to avoid the risk of superstitiously summoning more incidents. There was something about fine health that you had forgotten to feel grateful for. In fact, you were quite excited to have another moment where you could just jump straight into bed, kick back, and enjoy the silence of the night.

So, with a gentle push of your door, you waltzed happily inside your room.

“Ah, there you are.”

The random sound of another voice had your muscles all jolt. You clutched at non-existent pearls (the towel would have to serve as ample replacement) as you caught your breath. A white head of hair and a small blond one. Two members of a home different than yours. Not exactly undesirable faces, but definitely unexpected ones. They both were sitting on your bed, feeling right at home as they set up a movie on your television, already in pajamas. As you raised an eyebrow, your eyes wandered down to two packed day-bags.

“I… Welcome?” There was clear confusion in your voice as you addressed them. Not to be rude or anything, but this was…your room as so many people seemed to forget. Maybe you should look into getting a plaque for your door… Plus, it wasn’t quite like these two to just show up unannounced. Solomon maybe, but Luke? Did they forget to invite you to a sleepover? A late-night tea party perhaps? The other human was hard at work getting himself settled and relaxed. On the other hand, the angel was avoiding your gaze a little, acting more fidgety than normal. “You both are here…why exactly?” you couldn’t help but ask.

At your question, the two guests looked at each other for a moment, like they were trying to determine who would answer. Both of them were stubbornly staring into each other’s souls. With a little bit of irritation, you cleared your throat, glaring at the more grown of the bunch. The sorcerer glanced back up at you and conceded. A little shrug was followed by a more slumped position as he leaned back against your pillows and started the show. To others, he would’ve come off as unbothered, but luckily you had come to know him better than that. There was a subtle frustrated tone to his voice, his limbs a bit stiff like he didn’t want to be resting, and his eyes seemed to be unfocused. There was something on his mind that was upsetting him, so his actions were attempting to overcompensate for his worries. “Let’s just say that the Hall is a little bit…overtaken at the moment.”

With a shake of your head, you sighed. One side shuffle brought you to stand in front of the screen in an attempt to get him to look at you. “That doesn’t tell me much of anything.” Begrudgingly, the movie was paused.

Then the angel spoke up. Luke stuttered at first, but then managed to find his words. A pillow was held tightly in his lap as he clutched it for comfort. “It’s Simeon! He- He’s been cursed!”

Panic seemed to flood your body. Your eyes went wide and your jaw opened just enough to prepare yourself for demanding more information. Cursed? Was it dangerous? Was he in trouble? Why were they both just sitting around when you all could be helping?! Or was it so bad that they had to escape to safety? However, before you lost yourself to stress, Solomon raised a hand. “Not a curse.” He rubbed away an itch at the end of his nose with one finger. “At least, I’m fairly positive it’s not.”

Luke didn’t appear entirely convinced. “But he’s…” Before finishing his thought, he just went silent. It was clear he was very concerned for his guardian, but didn’t know how to go about fixing it.

“In my expert opinion,” the human continued, “I believe he’s simply not feeling well.” A bitter sensation crossed over your tongue. “I noticed he was acting strangely a few days ago, but any time I tried to pry information out of him, he turned me down. And quite cleverly turned my attention elsewhere, might I add.” Familiar actions started to leave an itch in your brain. A creeping sort of dread covered your skin. But, as soon as you started to notice these details, you shook your head, flinging them off of you. Now wasn’t the time to be feeling that way. Solomon continued to explain the situation. “And then he began to…how do I put this? Become rather obsessive.” He narrowed his eyes a little and glanced downwards, looking at nothing in particular. “I didn’t think anything of it at first…” All the sudden, he sighed, his playful mask falling and turning quite somber and serious. “Simeon’s always been caring, clean, and precise, but its been as if those traits have been kicked up to exuberant levels. It started with just some extra angelic doting- you know how he is-, and then just a few hours ago, Simeon took it upon himself to start tearing the entirety of Purgatory Hall apart to deep clean it.”

Luke made a sad sort of sound, one that broke your heart. “We tried to help so it would go faster and be easier, but he wouldn’t let us.”

“Stubbornness isn’t inherently a demonic or mortal trait, it would seem,” Solomon quipped. “I tried talking him into getting some rest, but he didn’t appear to hear me. And I was…dissuaded from casting any spells.”

Two little eyebrows scrunched up in irritation. “No using magic on Simeon! He always tells us that we shouldn’t force someone into doing what they don’t want to do!” But, even as Luke exclaimed it, he couldn’t help but let a bit of shuddering doubt slip into his voice.

“Well…” The immortal man appeared a bit guilty. “I just hope he doesn’t get himself into trouble trying to potentially clean my room…”

That dug in a different sort of fear… You glanced at the both of them and sighed, glancing out the window. Simeon… If he wasn’t feeling well, why was he trying to convince everyone otherwise? Well, the reason why didn’t particularly matter. If this was…him being sick, he needed rest. The angel probably knew that deep down, but maybe it had been too long since he put his needs above anyone else’s. You’d just have to remind him that self-care wasn’t inherently selfishness. Enough of your own self-pity! You had been given enough of a break. Besides, since when did you get the chance to take care of an angel, especially one so kind and lovely at that? Yes! You were back in business! “Alright!” you exclaimed a little too loudly, almost making your guests jump. “Leave him to me!”

Solomon processed your words before he smiled. “I knew we could count on you.” Cheeky little… So that was why they were here in your room and not over at the castle which had enough rooms to house a gala. Ah well, he could be lectured later.

“Try not to destroy my own room while I’m gone…”

“No promises!"

After a short jog- more like a speed walk- you were in front of Purgatory Hall. For some reason, you expected some sort of… cursed aura to spring from the place, but it stood as it normally did. Fingers crossed that the lack of one meant that Simeon had yet to get his hand on any of the myriad of dangerous items Solomon possessed. Hands tucked inside the pockets of your jacket, you approached the front door. Part of you wanted to immediately let yourself in, but you kept yourself restrained. Not only was knocking first good manners, but you also weren’t quite sure of the state Simeon was in. Hopefully an easier one than the brothers had been. Your knuckles drummed the door a few times. There was no answer. You attempted the doorbell next. Aside from the haunting ringing echoing inside, there was nothing… Normally, that would’ve been concerning, but if you tilted your ear near the door, you could clearly hear some ruckus inside. Sounded like the tooth-achingly familiar squeak of furniture being moved across the hardwood floors. Once more you knocked. “Hello? Simeon? Can you hear me?” The following silence spoke volumes. “I’m coming in then,” you warned, giving the angel a few more moments before opening the front door.

Stepping inside the entrance hall, you could feel floods of angelic magic filling the halls, along with the smell of several cleaning products and also…cookies? The sugary scent mingling with the chemically one made your stomach churn a bit. The sight was also rather overwhelming. When Solomon mentioned the Hall being torn apart, you thought perhaps he was being melodramatic. However, one glance from by the door suggested otherwise. Furniture was pushed from their spots and tipped over, paintings were pulled off of walls and laid out on the floor, blankets and towels and sheets and cloths and clothes were hanging to dry on wires that were strung back and forth in zig-zag patterns across the walls. No wonder Solomon and Luke absconded away.

“Simeon?” You called out again, ducking under some of the clothes as you pushed through the rest of the dorm. The sound of rather aggressive cleaning seemed to get louder as you approached the kitchen, the obnoxious noise of clanging silverware making you cringe.

The kitchen was in a rather right state. Cupboard doors thrown open, every single item pulled off the shelves, a worrisome teetering stack of dishes- that already looked clean, mind- piled in the sink. The room was much too bright, your eyes rapidly blinking as your brain mistakenly thought of sunlight. It took you longer than you’d like to admit to remember you were in the Devildom. The more you adjusted your focus, the more it became apparent that Simeon was the source of the radiance. It was hard to see him clearly, worried about the effects staring right at him would have on your vision. You walked further into the kitchen, stepping over several glistening feathers and loose parchment with scribbled works from his next project. Heat radiated out in all directions, feeling as if you were wading through a sauna.

Several times you called out to him, trying to announce your presence but not even getting a huff of acknowledgment from him. In fact, it seemed that he was completely oblivious to anything in general. The only thing he could do was flit about the room in a panicked state, his fingers raw from all the scrubbing and work he was doing. Some kind of stress response? “Simeon!” The voice that trembled its way from your throat was more frightened than you meant it to sound. But it couldn’t be helped. You had never seen Simeon quite like this before. Was it simply angelic duty intensified by a thousand? A cleanliness is next to godliness sort of deal? Or maybe he was too similar to Lucifer in the sense that he needed to fulfill some sense of obligation to feel ‘normal’. Who knew? It certainly didn’t matter in this moment. Your feet closed the distance between you two in seconds, leaping against him, arms tightening around the angel’s waist. Simeon’s body jolted as your forehead pressed against the skin of his exposed back. Much like the brothers when they had gotten sick, Simeon was much hotter than he should be. It nearly hurt you just to embrace him like this, quite like having your face much too close to an open flame. But you’d deal with it for just a little longer. “Please… Just stop for a moment.”

The hug seemed to put a screeching halt to his momentum. He’d probably been running on fumes for hours now, knowing that the moment he stopped was the moment he would collapse. Even now, his legs were shaking, his body working into overdrive just to keep himself steady. He wobbled and clutched onto one of the kitchen counters. The Celestial light in the room started to dim a little. “MC?…” Finally, he seemed to notice you. “I’m sorry…I didn’t hear you come in. S-Sit down…I’ll get you something to drink.” He attempted to shift in your grasp.

Your hold on him tightened, your fingers curling into the fabric of his warm clothes. You cleared your throat, trying to eliminate the earlier squeak in your voice. “You won’t be doing anything.” Even if you had felt like playing along, you had to wonder how he would do anything with the state the kitchen was in. It was all you could do to keep from imagining that giant pile of plates toppling down on top of him.

“I… Well, at least let me finish up in here. I don’t want to leave it like this for Solomon and Luke.”

Your eyes softened even though he wasn’t facing you. He really was out of it, wasn’t he? “They’re not here, Simeon.”

His back stiffened against you. “W-What?”

“They’re not here,” you reiterated, releasing your arms from around his sides and coming around to face him. Taking in his countenance sunk your heart. His well-kept hair was frazzled and flat, his skin dry, hands calloused. Ink and grime coated the inside of his fingernails. Typically, his eyes held a particular light in them, a small halo around his irises, but now that light was gone, dulled. “They came over to the House of Lamentation to tell me what was going on. They’re still there, worried for you…”

With that revealed to him, his face twisted into remorse. “They left? Because of me?… I didn’t mean…” A sigh left his chest as he stepped behind you, stuffing his hands into two oven mitts as he pulled a sheet of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind you. “I’ll at least go take these to them…” Even now he was still thinking about caring for others…

“Simeon.” With his name being called, he looked over his shoulder at you. You reached out and took both his wrists in your grasp, taking the mitts off his hands. After you put them on the counter- which was positively gleaming, by the by - you found yourself acting impulsively bold. Without thinking, your touch went to his cheeks, feeling the flush beneath his skin. You gently guided his head down to lean on your shoulder. You tilted your cheek to press against his temple, your palm tenderly resting on the back of his neck. For a moment, there was silence. A comfortable, knowing silence. “I know it might be rather shocking to discover, but those two can handle themselves. At least for a little while.” You managed to chuckle, but he didn’t seem to find it amusing. Or maybe he was simply feeling too miserable to muster any mirth. “Listen…don’t you start feeling guilty over stepping back from those responsibilities for a little while. Your worth isn’t measured by your output…if that makes sense…I’m not the best at impactful speeches. You understand where I’m getting at, don’t you? And you understand that I’m dragging you to bed regardless, right?”

Two arms wrapped around you and ran up your back. “You’re right…”

Despite the situation, you managed a big grin. “Yes, I am,” you chimed. “Let’s go now.” You took one of his hands firmly in yours, leading him through the labyrinth of his own making and towards his room. Unfortunately, his domain didn’t seem to escape the chaos. So, you sat him in a chair and worked to try to get things mostly in order. You pushed the bed-frame back up against the wall, plugged the side lamp back into the socket behind the nightstand, found the bedding hung up in the hallway, and even went so far as to fluff the pillows. When you proudly turned back towards the angel with your hands on your hips, you saw that while you were busy, he had discarded his shoes, cloak, and gloves.

Simeon pushed himself out of the chair and up on his feet, his hand curling around his forehead as he staggered towards the bed. You held out your arms precautiously. He practically flopped onto the mattress, his face temporarily buried into the comfort of a crisp cold pillow. It pained you to see him like this, and you had the sinking feeling that he was expending most of his efforts to hide as much of the sickness from you as he could. A few of your fingers worked on pushing some of the hair from his face. Even his locks were rather toasty. At the very least, he took in a nice deep breath. “Is it wrong…” he started, his voice drifting into a whisper, “…that I’m happy you’re here?”

Those words left you frozen for a while. You just stared down at him, resisting the urge to just hop into bed next to him and hold him next to you. “Why would it be wrong?”

“I…remember how tired you looked.” Your eyes went a little wide at his answer. “I remember thinking at the time how unfair it must’ve been for you. But then…when I first started feeling…under the weather…” His eyes glanced up at you, his arm twitching against his sheets like he had half a mind to reach out for you. “All I could think of was how nice it would be to have you here with me…”

Your lips parted as you went to speak, but no words came out. Guilt swirled in your soul a little. Had he really kept this all hush just for your sake? If that were the case though, he would’ve told the other members of Purgatory Hall, surely. He was partially right though, with the fact that it would do no one good if you wrung yourself dry trying to help someone else. Finally, you sat by his side in bed, pulling a cooled sheet over his body and rubbing his taut shoulders. “I did seem to go a little overboard in the care-taking aspect when the brothers all turned ill, you’re right… But, you can rest assured that I won’t push myself too hard by taking care of you… After all, you wouldn’t let me do such a thing, would you?” His expression seemed to brighten, taking hold of your hand and pressing it against his own face as he shook his head. “And don’t you worry. Tomorrow I’ll be summoning Solomon and Luke back home to help put the Hall back in one piece. So for now,” you leaned forward and embraced him, nearly cradling his head against your body, “rest, and prepare to be fully cared for just as you deserve.”

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Remember You and Me Part 5/8

This chapter = 🥳❤️‍🔥🤯

Summary - After a traffic accident reader is left with no memory of her life with Ruben, who desperately tries to get her to remember him.

Enjoy!

You were sitting in the kitchen staring blankly at your phone in disbelief. Your parents were on the other end, wishing you a happy birthday. Another thing you didn't remember, your own birthday.

"Happy birthday, honey!" Your mom chirped, oblivious to your mortification. "We hope you're having a wonderful day!"

"Thank you." You awkwardly mumbled. Just then Ruben entered the kitchen. He frowned at your paused expression. "What?"

You pointed at the phone. "It's my mom, she's wishing me a happy birthday."

Ruben perked up in suprise. Seems like you weren't the only one that had forgotten about it.

"I'll talk to you soon mom, bye for now." You hung up the phone and welcomed the silence between you and Ruben.

"So it's your birthday." He said.

You didn't blame him for forgetting. You had both been so busy trying to get back on track with your lives.

"It's my birthday." You shrugged.

"What would you like to do?"

You didn't get to answer Ruben's question before there was a knock on the door, somone letting themselves in.

"Surprise!" Rachel exclaimed. She entered the kitchen holding up a giant birthday balloon. "Guess what, I'm throwing you a birthday party tonight!"

You looked to Ruben, who looked equally puzzled.

"Rachel, how did you...?"

"Remember Y/N's birthday?" She turned to you. "He forgot, didn't he? Just like last year."

"Rachel, what are you..."

"I'm taking Y/N shopping for a dress to wear to tonight." She came around the kitchen island, grabbing your arm, forcing you to get up and out of your seat.

"But Rachel, Y/N need to..."

"She deserves a party Ruben."

Ruben was brought back by her stern tone.

"She's been through alot and deserves to be celebrated, right Y/N?"

You were lost for words. You wanted to turn to Ruben for answers but somthing told you that he would let you make the decision for yourself.

"I want a party."

"You do?" Ruben frowned.

You nodded.  "It might help with my memory."

"Great!" Rachel jolted, her red hair bouncing with her jumping. She continued to drag you out of the kitchen, out into the hallway and towards the front door. "Ruben, you meet us up at the penthouse at seven, I'm throwing the party there. Everything is already arranged, food, DJ, you name it. But can you please make sure to invite some of your teammates." She paused in the doorway. "But only the cute ones."

"Rachel I don't think..."

"Okay, bye!"

The door was slammed behind your back. Rachel drove a black BMW with tinted windows, but offered to roll yours down as you wanted to see where you were headed. She took you into the city, to the epicentrum of where the shopping was done in Manchester. You were going along with things that your nineteen year old self didn't agree with, like trying on promiscious lingerie and dresses that barely cut below your waist.

"Try this black one. I know Ruben loves a woman in black."

Rachel accompanied you into the fairly large dressing room.

"Have you been friends for a long time, you and Ruben?" You asked.

"Ever since he moved to England." She smiled.

"Well, where is he originally from?"

"Portugal." Rachel laughed. "Hasn't he told you that?"

"No."

"Well you guys must have a lot to catch up on, with your memory being lost and all."

You nodded. There was alot that you still didn't know about Ruben, like how you two met and how far into the relationship that he purposed to you.

"I should tell you..."

You met Rachel's eyes in the dressing room mirror. "Yes?"

"He and I used to date you know... before he met you."

"You and Ruben?"

She nodded, helping you pull up the zipper to your dress.

"Oh."

You were not sure how you were suppose to react.

"It was only for a short while though. A mistake, Ruben calls it."

"He said that?" You frowned. Didn't sound like somthing Ruben would say.

"Either way, he didn't want you to know about it before, about us. But I figured that with your memory loss and all, its better if we both get to know each other without the secrets this time."

"Agreed." You said, respecting her honesty.

"I think this is the one." She said, stepping back to admire the way you looked in your dress.

You turned in the mirror. The dress was a bit revealing but undoubtedly gorgeous on you. "I think so too." You smiled.

Arriving to Rachel's penthouse was a quest on its own. As soon as you stepped through the door a sea of well dressed people shouted 'Happy birthday!'

"Thank you everyone." You felt awkward and very timid. You recognized none of the people that tended the party, no one but Ruben.

"Happy birthday." He emerged through the crowd like the sun on a cloudy day, dressed in a suit and bowtie. In that moment you realized how much you depended on Ruben. Depended on him to protect you and keep you safe.

"Thank you " You said, hooking your arm with his.

"Champagne for the twenty five year old?"

Rachel appared by your side, offering you the flute.

"You probably shouldn't..."

You emptied the glass before Ruben could protest. Rachel laughed at the wrinkled face you pulled right after.

"Let her enjoy Ruben. You only live once, right?"

The alcohol hit you right away, clouding your mind. "Can I have a another one?" You asked.

"Of course!"

"No, Y/N. I think one is enough." Ruben tugged your arm, wanting to pull you aside to talk in private.

For some reason you fought against him.

"Relax Dias." Rachel said, stealing you away from him. "It's her birthday."

Ruben did not look pleased with you, not at all actually. There was an unsettling feeling within you, the fact that Ruben wanted to control you.

"I'll be fine." You assured.

Although Ruben looked to want to protest, a group of well dressed men ambushed him, looking to jump him. "Eyyy Ruby. Why the long face?" They taunted. "Cheer up mate, it's a party, no?" Ruben still had his eyes on you until Rachel had you follow her out onto the balchony. There she had a waiter bring you two shots of somthing strong.

"At least you're allowed to drink again." She shouted through the loud music.

"Wait, I wasn't allowed to drink before? By who, Ruben?"

Rachel nodded her head. "I know some women do it, but Ruben would never let you try."

"Why not?" You frowned. Your nineteen year old self would never allow a man to make that kind of decisions for you.

"I dunno that's the way he is." Rachel shrugged. "He cares about you alot, you know. More than he cared for me."

Perhaps he cared a bit too much, you thought.

"Wait for me here, I'm going to check on the cake." Rachel left you with a view of Manchester City. It was breath taking and oddly familiar. And then it came to you, in the flash of a memory...

"Will you merry me Y/N?" It was Ruben down on one knee. His back turned to the very view that you were overlooking right now.

"Yes Ruben. I'll merry you."

And as quick as it came to you, the memory suddenly passed, leaving you with a throbbing headache and a urgent sense to throw up.

"You alright, love?"

A man came to see you whilst you were emptying your stomach in the bathroom. He was tall, blond and had remarkably striking eyes.

"Don't tell me I'm suppose to remember you because I don't." You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

The man smiled. "I'll go get Ruben for you."

The room was spinning. You couldn't stay in the bathroom because of the smell. People, no, strangers passed you in the hallway, wishing you a happy birthday. You nodded and smiled but felt sick to your stomach. Just as you were starting to feel like you were going to suffocate under the weight of all the balloons and well-wishes, Ruben appeared by your side. "Hey, you okay? John told me that you weren't..." Ruben caught you, just when you thought you were about to fall.

"Ruben I don't feel so..."

"What is it Y/N?"

"My head." You groaned.

Ruben pinned you to his side, draping your arm over his shoulders for support. "I'm getting you out of here."

You left the penthouse in a rush. Ruben brought around the car and drove you home. You didn't even get to say goodbye to Rachel, nor thank her for throwing you a birthday party.

"I'll go get your medication."

Just like that you were back home. You and Ruben, in your big big house.

"Here take these." Ruben handed you a glass of water and three white pills.

He watched you put the pills in your mouth and you knew he wouldn't leave you alone until you swallowed them. You sat on the living room couch whilst Ruben stood pacing in front of you, back and forth, forth and back. He looked deep in thought, running a hand through his already messy hair. You guessed that he was upset with you but probably didn't want to shout at you.

"Did you have any thing more to drink...on the balchony, did you have anything more to drink?" His pacing came to an end.

You looked up at him and for some reason you wanted Ruben to complement your dress, or at least the way you looked in it. He didn't really pay attention to the way you looked.  Perhaps he wasn't that attracted to you anymore.

"Y/N please answer the question."

"Yes." You admitted. "I had two shots of somthing. Maybe vodka."

Ruben closed his eyes and sighed. "Y/N, didn't I tell you that one was enough. Look what happned to you, it means you're not ready to..."

"To what, have fun?" You hissed. It was the first time that you were vocal about your objections. "Ruben, I was celebrating my birthday, why was that such a big deal to you?"

His eyes searched your face, not sure where all of this was coming from, why you were suddenly not agreeing with him. "It wasn't." He muttered.

"Yes it was, just admit it. You didn't want me to go out today,  you wanted me to stay inside like I've done for the past three months."

"Y/N, I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Ruben, I don't know who I am. I don't know what I want. And I have absolutely no idea what you want. Everything is just so fucking confusing to me right now and your not helping when all you want to do is lock me inside this house." Tears streamed down your face. Ruben seemed to want to reach out and touch you but ultimately hesitated. Instead he collected himself and said. "I'm sorry Y/N. I never intended to make you feel locked in. And I don't want to prevent you from getting your old life back. I just..." He looked to his feet. "...I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

You saw it, the hurt in him, in his voice. He was suffering too.

"Ruben look at me." You rose from the couch, approaching him where he stood. Ruben lifted his chin to meet your eyes. Like your eyes his were glossy too. He was crying too.

You placed a hand against his cheek, caressing his stubble. "There is no way you can guarantee that I won't get hurt again. No one can. Just like I can't guarantee that you won't get hurt. But what we can do is stop being afraid of life. I want to live Ruben."

He nodded, the side of his face pressing against the palm of your hand.

"I want to live with you." You whispered.

"What?"

You nodded. "I remembered." You said, recalling what happened to you on the penthouse balchony. How the memory of you and Ruben flooded you with such strong and sudden emotions.

"W...what did you remember Y/N?"

You smiled. "The happiest day of my life."

Ruben caught your back as you stood on your toes. You didn't have to tip far before his lips collided with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moving on to tangle your hands into his hair.

"Ruben." You gasped. He was backing you up against the couch. "Let's go upstairs instead."

Ruben grunted in response, refusing to detach his lips from yours. How you even got to your bedroom, you had no idea. Ruben had you step out of your dress and lie down on the bed. You watched him toss his bowtie somewhere in the corner, moving on to slowly unbutton his shirt.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, his bare chest seductive in the night light.

"Yes."

For the first time in a long time you felt certain about somthing, Ruben was the love of your life. The way your body wanted him, your insides screamed for you to keep him close and never let go. There could be no other explanation, Ruben was the one.

"Spread your legs for me."

You did what you were told, spreading your legs wide as you fell back against the matress. Ruben pushed his knee between your thighs, his body hovering over you.

"Take off your panties."

"Do you have a condom?"

Ruben bent down to kiss your belly. "No." He mumbled.

"No?" You brought yourself to rest on your elbows, watching Ruben trace wet kisses further down your body. The pleasure was immense. "Was I usually on birth control?" You asked.

Ruben raised his head to look at you, a slight crook in his brow. "Um...no." He answered. "You were....we were..."

"Ruben?"

He shook his head. "No, we weren't using condoms. We wanted to try for a baby so..."

Your lips parted in suprise. "Ruben, I'm so sorry."

He crawled towards you, collecting your face into the palm of his hands, kissing your mouth, your nose and the crook of your eye. "It's okay." He smiled. "I get that you want to use condoms now."

"But I used to want to try for a baby, no?"

He nodded.

The thought was hard to grasp, you and Ruben, having a baby.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to." Ruben was content enough to share a bed with you again, let alone hold and kiss you. You shifted to lay in a spoon,  Ruben's body cradling yours.

"I'm glad you remember us." He whispered, his voice laced with fatigue. "Just wait and see, there are many more happy memories to come back to you."

You said nothing, wondering if some of your memories were worth forgetting about. Like your desire to birth a child?

Tags list:

@christianpulisic10

@urmotheris

@magicalfundragon

[marzipanandminutiae]

ok yeah I'll bite what the fuck was Diane's problem because holy SHIT

What The Fuck WAS Diane's Problem, indeed. I lost contact with her since I quit that hellhole, and I'm not sorry. (Please picture a petite, thin, golden-blonde white woman around age 50 wearing high-end boho/athleisure clothes.) But her Fun Quirks included:

being like. weirdly dedicated to our crappy retail job at a company run by a former real estate bro. we sold fancy stone tableware and got commission, so she would hang around after her shift in case someone she'd talked to earlier came back to buy. to make sure SHE got the commission from the sale. we each had individual passcodes for the register, so she could clock out at the correct time and still get sales credited to her. a few times she got mad at me for "stealing" her sale (read: ringing someone up who she'd previously talked to, like an hour into my shift)

pushiness. EXTREME pushiness. she had amazing sales numbers, probably because she wouldn't take no for an answer. I once saw her chase a man down who had walked away from the shop, because she'd chatted with him but he hadn't bought anything. she chided me for "letting him walk away" afterwards

toxic positivity. I once commented, during a shift change, that the market where we worked seemed slow that day. with a big sweet smile, she told me to NEVER say that because we needed to be giving off positive energy that we'd get lots of sales. um. okay

as previously mentioned, being super-pumped at the idea of our boss taking our stool away and mad when I pointed out that that was, how you say, literally illegal in our state (because "nobody needs to be sitting; it doesn't look welcoming!")

her email was something like DianeLastnameSolutions@gmail.com. very business-y. I asked what her other job was. turns out that was just her personal address; she didn't have a business or a side gig or anything

She let everyone think she was a manager. We didn’t have a manager; just the owner and the salespeople.

She tried to gaslight me into thinking she had been there as long as I had (she hired on a year after me) and therefore had seniority. Again, none of us had power over each other

the stealing from the register thing, which was just bizarre. at 23, working my second post-college job, I was desperately trying not to get in trouble; at 31 I would stand my ground more. In short: the exact amount I’d taken in cash went missing a few hours into my shift, when Diane was hanging around as usual. She knew where we hid the register key when we went to the bathroom, nobody would have looked askance at her rooting around in the stall, and when I called her panicking after mid-shift drawer count, she was ADAMANT that I must have forgotten to take the cash from all three customers who had paid me that way.

To the point where, when I called the boss to report the incident and hesitantly said “I think I might have forgotten-“ she barked at me “NO. YOU KNOW. YOU KNOW THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED. YOU DON’T THINK; YOU KNOW.”

I did not fucking forget to take cash from three separate customers and if this happened today, her response would raise a huge red flag for me

There was no camera on the register area so I could never prove anything. But money went missing from the drawer “overnight” after two other people’s shifts, who hardly seemed like thieving types, and Diane was all too ready to cluck over their alleged crimes. And since she was always gunning for more shifts…I don’t know. It was just very weird.

She ultimately got her wish when almost everyone else quit- and then became burned-out by manning the stall single-handedly. Womp womp.

[feariteriu]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 — miles morales

— MasterList!

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Miles has been caught up with his Spider-Man duties and in result, has forgotten all about you. Will you guys be able to work it out?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Swearing? Angsty? Idk fr nothing really.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Miles Morales x female reader.

𝗔/𝗡: Hope you like it, feels kinda cringey to me…

—

All week you had been avoiding the Spider-man, Miles Morales. Your Boyfriend.

He never made time for you. And sure, you knew what it meant to be him, the obstacles he was hurtling daily, the responsibility. Of course, you knew. You were so understanding, so supportive that it hurt.

It wasn't until he started to forget important things. Like your birthday, anniversary’s, family dinners things like that is how you got here. He started pulling away and in turn, so did you. It took Miles a week to notice while the whole time it had been three months of that behavior from him.

One night while doing your homework, face buried deep in your textbook for Financial algebra. You got a text message from him. Your eyes double over in size as you read who the text was from, no way it was him. You unlocked your phone and it was him saying he was coming over with just a period at the end. No heart no emoji, no nothing.

But that stupid period.

You didn't let the message phase you, it wasn't the first time he said he would be coming over then he never showed. So you went back to your work. Completely erasing him from your mind.

An hour later you get a knock on your dorm door and roll your eyes back in your head, thinking it's your roommate and they forgot their key again.

You're surprised when you open your door to find your boyfriend drenched in rain, his clothes sticking to his skin. He looked up at you and your eyes locked for the first time in months you couldn't help but feel weak in the knees for him.

But you wouldn't dwell on that, he was not getting off the hook like that, no way. You harden your gaze at him and he just stares. His words got lost in his throat until, "Why are you avoiding me?" He asked in a small voice.

The answer you got was not what you wanted, was not what you expected. It just fueled your anger.

Scoffing and muttering a harsh ‘I can't believe you’ under your breath. You go to close the door in his face when his fast reflexes kick in and his foot stops it. You groan in frustration. "Miles just leave!" Turning away from the door letting it go, knowing Miles the way you do you know there was no way in stopping him from coming in.

"Y/N, you need to tell me what's wrong." You give him a look at his choice of words, "S-So I can fix it!" He then says frantically, panic overtaking his features. "No." Is all you say and Miles's jaw drops, you had never said no to him, at least not like that? Not with such malice and resentment. What had he done to you?

You sat down at your desk to get back to work, "Can you leave? I have homework." You sat down at your desk and looked back at him, like he was a stranger. And fuck, he would be lying if he said it didn't hurt him.

"No, Amor we need to—"

Not even giving him a chance to finish you jump out of your seat hands slamming down on your desk, "fine! I'll go then!" And off you went. Towards the door and slipping on your shoes not even caring about the rain enough to get a coat, you just needed to get away from him. This was too much all at once.

Miles watched you go. And it was as if something snapped in him as you closed the door. You were upset, yes, but that doesn't mean you had to act like this. You were being unreasonable and Miles felt like he was losing it. “She can’t be serious.” Rushing after you he slammed your door behind you and marched outside, you on his mind.

He pushed the building doors open and there he found you standing in the rain, cold and soaked. But that wasn't what caught his attention it was your hushed sobs barely noticeable. Good thing he had super hearing.

It was then that he felt his anger for you diminish into nothing but ash, it was like someone poured water over a lit candle. He was a fucking idiot. Whatever he did had you crying out in the cold rain.

And he hated himself for doing that to you.

Miles finally got out of his head and rushed up to you, your back was to him but he could still see you shivering under the dark sky and bright lights of new york. Miles wasn't sure what had you so upset, but he knew he wanted to be the one to comfort you.

He had this intense urge to grab you and hold you and tell you he loved you and that he’ll make sure everything will be okay.

He wishes he had a jacket to give you.

"This isn't going as planned." He worked up the courage to finally say behind you, he heard you sniff.

"What isn't going the way you planned?" You questioned wiping at your wet eyes a mixture of rain and your tears on the back of your hands.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N." He breathed out. Sadness takes over his voice as he reached his hand out to wipe the tears falling from your precious face. Taking a step back you don’t let him comfort you.

The air around you guys was thick. It was heavy and it was hard to breathe. Closing your eyes you finally caved. "Miles you ignored me, for months." When the words left your lips he felt his heart stop. You turn to face him and the look on your face breaks his heart, finishing the job. You were so torn, so distraught over him, over something he did to you.

You whimper at the sight of him and a moment later your eyes burst like a flood. Miles has to hold back from crying himself once he hears the sorrow that's been hidden within you.

He’s never seen this side of you. The devastation must be too much that you can't hide it anymore he thought, because it was.

How could he ever forgive himself?

"Y/N, I love you so much please never doubt that. I'm so sorry." He stepped towards you and you shook your head putting a hand out in front of you to keep the distance.

Mumbling a ‘I can't’ closing your eyes. This whole thing has exhausted you, at this point you weren’t mad at him anymore. You were just tired. So tired. You were more disappointed than mad now.

You go to walk away with the shake of your head, just wanting to go back to the comfort of your room and sleep off the rest of the day, like you always did.

"I am really fucking in love with you."

When it’s those words that make you stop mid step. It takes you a while to process the words. What they mean, why he said them. It catches you off guard at first. You turn around to look him in the eyes, about to dismiss what he claimed. But the severity behind his words, the seriousness his eyes held, how raw and uncut his eyes looked. He looked down at you like you were the air he needed to breathe.

And in a way you were. He needed you.

No one had ever looked at you how Miles Morales was.

That was the first time he told you he loved you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, your mouth going dry you shake your head eyes closing than opening, you couldn’t believe he said that, "W-What?" You finally let out. After standing there in the quite for so long.

He takes another step and this time you don't stop him. "I...I love you. And I know you're mad at me. And I know I don't deserve anything from you." Miles stopped. His eyes closed and he looked down at you with a look you couldn't read. "I put that distance between us to protect you. I'd rather let the world burn than put you in any danger." He finishes reaching for your hands.

And for some reason you believe him. You believe him because Miles Morales doesn’t lie to you. And because Miles Morales loves you. He loves you.

"I don't expect you to say anything. And I don't expect you to feel the same way. Believe me when I tell you I understand why you don't. You have the kindest heart, Y/N." He rambled on and on but you let him you wanted to know exactly how he felt, how he felt about you. You finally got what you wished for. Communication.

"You're more than anything I could've asked for, more than I'd ever deserve—" But it was that sentence that irked you, he can’t possibly be serious, right?

“You have no idea how much you mean to me!” You shouted out interrupting him. You weren’t going to let this slide is this how he thought of you? He put you on a pedestal that you didn’t deserve, that you didn’t ask for.

Squeezing his hand's, eyes shutting as you looked down to the side you finish what you’re trying to convey to him. "Whenever I was around you all I wanted to do was let go of everything. My responsibilities, my thoughts, my worries. I wanted to get lost in you in the best way possible..."

You trail off getting lost in thought but Miles pulls you back by the touch of his two fingers hooking under your chin, gently and guiding your face back to his. Upon opening your eyes dark brown ones stare right back at you with a love you can't find words to describe swarming through them.

"Please don't ever think you're undeserving of love, Miles. Because you're one of the strongest people I know."He lets out a long sigh just captivated by you, "I think of you so much it drives me crazy." And he did. He truly did.

His hands still holding yours pull you closer. His large hands circled your waist, his touch was warm despite the rain that soaked your clothing.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, attempting to bring his body even closer. And it was his lips that took your breath away. The way they crashed into your own with such a passionate force that you nearly fell over if it hadn't had been for his arms holding your smaller frame up. It was like a wave touching shore for the first time, a rush.

But this was different from your other kisses with the famous web-slinger, it felt real. Like all the barriers, all the obstacles that blocked you two were washed away. You weren't sure what your future would be like but you did know that you could see yourself with him. Living with him. Making memories. Loving him relentlessly.

The way he kissed you with such devotion but held your face so gently made your stomach flutter. He was amazing. In every possible way. Everything about Miles felt right.

Pulling away was the hard part.

Resting your forehead on his you catch your breath. "I just wanted to keep you safe." Miles starts, "I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you." He never wanted to think like this, think about this. But this is what you need from him right now. If him talking about your safety was what it took to get you to stay than he would gladly do so.

He would do anything you asked him. Even if that meant destroying himself from the inside out just to see you smile, because to him at the end of the day anything was worth it if he got to see a smile on your face. Anything.

“You'll always be worth it to me. I think you're worth the world. Worth everything. I'd go to the end of the earth to make sure you're taken care of, Y/N.”

You attempted to look away but his grip tightens around your chin so you couldn't. "There are times where it's hard for me to look anywhere else but at you." Your beauty was something Miles could never put into words, no matter how many times he’s tried, how many times he thought about it.

“Eres hermosa mi amor.” But for now he’ll settle for this until he can find the right words to express just how deeply he’s enthralled by you.

"Miles..."

He stops you with his lips and you can't help but kiss back, completely smitten by Miles Morales. He ran his hands through your hair to hold the back of your neck, keeping you close. It was such a protective, soft gesture that made your heart flutter.

Pulling away this time proved to be a struggle when Miles's lips just kept chasing your own. It wasn't till you said, "I love you," That got him to stop.

"You're incredible, Y/N. Being here with you ... it feels more like a dream than reality. Good things don't usually happen to me, but somehow you did. And I'll be damned if I ever let you slip away again."

You give him that smile that he loves so much. And it’s then he only had one thought in his head.

You’re it for him.

[adhd-merlin]

a lesson in manners

For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt: "Then go", Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, Established Relationship, Gen. Words: 500

“Well.” Merlin rises from his chair. “If there's nothing else.”

Guinevere turns to him – her disappointment clear in her eyes, even though she tries to keep it from her voice. “You’re leaving?”

“Sorry.” Merlin smiles apologetically. “I promised Gaius I would be back in time for supper.”

Which is fair enough. Merlin’s been dining with Arthur and Guinevere more often than not, lately. They have – perhaps selfishly – grown used to his presence.

“Hardly the first time you've kept him waiting,” Arthur observes. Just to be contrary.

“Precisely. He's starting to ask questions.”

“What sort of questions?” Guinevere asks.

Merlin looks at her with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “Ones I'd rather not answer.” Guinevere’s mouth curves into a faint smile. She closes her eyes when Merlin leans down to kiss her temple.

“I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.” Merlin nods at Arthur before going to the door.

Guinevere looks at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes – which, as a general rule, Arthur finds unacceptable. Guinevere should never look sad. Not in his presence. Not if he can help it.

“Merlin?” Arthur calls. Merlin stops, his hand on the handle. “Is that the way to take leave of your king?”

Merlin looks puzzled. “I'm sorry. Did I forget to bow?” he asks, and he does so, with a jester-like flourish.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes. Not that it matters. Come here.”

“Arthur…” Merlin protests, weakly, but he obeys his beckoning.

“Guinevere got a kiss. I was just wondering at the disparity of treatment,” Arthur explains – not because he cares, but just to keep Merlin there a little longer.

Merlin clicks his tongue. “She's nicer than you.”

Arthur just looks at him.

Merlin sighs, theatrically, and Guinevere giggles.

Good.

When Merlin bends down – no doubt to give Arthur a quick peck on the lips – Arthur grabs his ridiculous neckerchief and pulls. Merlin gasps, grasping one of Arthur’s arms as he tips over, and slamming his knee next to Arthur’s thigh to avoid smashing his face against the back of his chair.

“Arthur— ” The rest of his objection is rudely interrupted by Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur kisses Merlin until he’s breathless – maybe from the kiss, maybe from the cloth that’s pulled tight around his neck. Arthur doesn’t loosen his grasp. He knows Merlin likes it. 

When Arthur breaks their kiss, Merlin blinks at him vacantly. He moves his lips as if to shape a word, but seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

Then, he remembers. “Gaius is waiting,” he mumbles – eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth.

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s neckerchief and pats his chest. “Then go,” he says, amiably.

Merlin gets to his feet – a bit shakily. His ears are red. He walks to the door again, turns as if to say something, then frowns and closes his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaves.

Guinevere starts laughing.

Good.

“That was mean,” she says. 

Arthur takes her hand and kisses it. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it up to him.”

[phr3ia]

Love Game (Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 19 : LOVE]

"Good morning, Beautiful." Suguru greets you, propped up on one elbow, looking down at you with a soft smile. The blanket covers you both, but you can still feel the heat of his body next to yours.

You stretch, your body still sore from the previous night's activities. "Morning." you murmur, returning his smile.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "How did you sleep?" he asks, his hand gently caressing your cheek.

"Like a baby." you admit, snuggling closer to him. "What about you?"

"Better than I have in a long time." he confesses, wrapping his arms around you. 

"By the way, do you have work today?" Suguru asks, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

You blink, trying to focus on the time. "Yes, I do. Why?" you respond, still groggy.

"It's almost eight. You should probably get dressed." he says, his brow furrowing in concern.

You bolt upright in bed, your eyes widening in panic. "What? Already? Shit, I'm going to be late!" you exclaim, scrambling out of bed and rushing to the bathroom.

After a few minutes, you realize something and call out to Suguru. "Uh, Suguru? I don't have any clean clothes here. I can't go to work like this."

There's a pause before Suguru responds, "Oh, right. Well, how about I give you a ride home? That way you can change and I can make sure you get to work on time."

You emerge from the bathroom, wearing Suguru's shirt and your dirty jeans from the night before. "I'm just going to grab a cab back home." you say, avoiding eye contact with him. "But could I borrow your shirt? I can wash it and return it later, or maybe tomorrow?"

Suguru looks taken aback, but he nods nonetheless. "Oh, okay...Are you sure you don't want me to take you home? I don't mind."

"No, really, it's fine," you insist, grabbing your phone.

Before leaving, you turn to Suguru, giving him a tight hug and a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you for last night, it was amazing," you whisper, smiling at him. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Alright, alright. I'll be waiting  your call, then." Suguru chuckles. "But hey, before you go, can I at least get a proper goodbye kiss?" He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate, lingering kiss. When he pulls away, he smirks. "Now that's what I call a goodbye."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You step out of the hotel lobby, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding you. As you adjust your eyes, you remember to check your phone, which has been silent all night.

As soon as the screen lights up, you're greeted with a flurry of notifications - 56 missed calls, all from Toji. You cursed under your breath, realizing you'd completely forgotten to let him know you wouldn't be coming home last night.

You quickly dial his number, bringing the phone to your ear but he didn't answer.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you curse under your breath, pacing outside the pharmacy. "Why did I even forget about it?!"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. "It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything." you reason with yourself. "He doesn't need to know my every move."

But the guilt of making him wait lingers, and it's gnawing at you. You shake your head, determined not to dwell on it. "I'll apologize later. Right now, I need to take care of this."

You push open the door to the pharmacy, the bell chiming overhead. The pharmacist behind the counter glances up, giving you a nod of acknowledgment. You walk over, keeping your head down, and mumbled "I need a morning-after pill."

The pharmacist raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. "ID, please." she says, extending her hand.

You hesitate for a moment before handing her your driver's license. She scans it, then turns to the shelves behind her, searching for the medication.

While she's busy, you glance around the pharmacy, feeling self-conscious. A couple of people are browsing the aisles, but they don't seem to notice you. You let out a sigh of relief.

The pharmacist returns, placing a small packet on the counter. "Here you go." she says, ringing up the purchase. "Take it as directed on the package. And consider using some form of birth control in the future."

You nod, taking the packet and handing her the cash. "Thanks," you mutter, turning to leave.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

[Apartment]

"Where the fuck have you been all night?" Toji demanded, standing up and striding towards you. "I called you multiple times. Didn't you hear your phone?!"

"I had it on silent." you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Toji's eyes narrowed as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What the hell happened to you?" he growled. "And why do you look like that?"

But before you could answer, Toji stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin, tilting your head to the side. He brushed your hair away from your neck, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the hickeys covering your skin.

"What the fuck?" he snarled, releasing your chin and stepping back. "You fucked him, didn't you? How many times did he mark you like this? Did you enjoy it? Getting fucked by that man?!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?! It's none of your business, Toji!" you snapped. "Why the hell do you care if I fuck someone? You don't own me, and I certainly don't own you. You fuck whoever you want, whenever you want, and I don't bat an eye. So why should you care if I have a little fun too?"

"Because you're not some random slut!" he shouted. "You're supposed to be better than that. You can't just go around fucking strangers, especially not ones like him!"

"Like him?! What's wrong with him? He's kind, and he treats me well. Unlike some people I know."

"That's not the point!" Toji roared, slamming his fist on the table. "Men like him, they're dangerous!"

"And you think you're any better?!" you scoffed. "At least he's honest about what he wants. You, on the other hand, you act like you care, but you're actually the worst! What am I supposed to think, Toji? What am I supposed to believe?"

"Tell me what you want!" Toji barked, his face contorted with anger. "What do you want from me? Huh? Do you want me to treat you like one of my whores? Is that it? Do you want me to fuck you like I fuck them?"

"Fuck you, Toji!" you spat, advancing on him. "You think you're so high and mighty, but you're nothing but a fuckboy! At least that man respects my boundaries, unlike you! You don't give a damn about my privacy or feelings! You treat me like shit, and you expect me to just take it? No, I won't! I deserve better than that!"

Toji grabbed your arm roughly, pushing you against the wall and pinning your arms above your head. "Do you want me to treat you like a whore too?" he growled, his face inches from yours. "Is that what you're fucking asking for?"

"Fuck you!" you spat, struggling against his grip. "Let me go, you asshole!"

"Not until you answer me," he snarled. "Do you want me to fuck you like I fuck those other women? Say the word, and I'll gladly oblige. Any time, any place."

"Go to hell!" you screamed, thrashing in his hold. "You're pathetic, Toji! You think you're God's gift to women, but you're nothing but a piece of shit! You can't keep it in your pants for five seconds, and you have the audacity to judge me? You're a hypocrite, and you're disgusting!"

"Shut it." he hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"The fuck I don't!" you yelled, continuing your tirade. "You're a worthless, arrogant prick who thinks he can control everyone around him! News flash, Toji, you're not in charge of my life! I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

"Why Suguru Geto, of all people?!" Toji suddenly snarled, his voice dropping dangerously low. "Why a fucking Sorcerer?!"

Your eyes widened in shock, surprise written all over your face. "Y-You knew?!" you stammered, caught off guard.

Toji's grip on your arms tightened, his eyes blazing with fury. "Answer the fucking question! Why him?!"

"Oh, you mean the Sorcerer who was my first love?!" you sneered, wriggling in Toji's grip. "The one I lived with for four fucking years?! Yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that little detail, huh?!"

Toji scoffed, his grip loosening slightly. "So you ran back to your ex, huh? How fucking original. Desperate for attention, aren't you?"

"Fuck you, Toji!" you spat, finally managing to wrench your arms free. "You don't know shit about me or my past! Suguru and I have history, something you couldn't possibly understand! And you think I'm desperate because I chose to be with someone who actually cares about me? Someone who doesn't treat me like shit? Yeah, I guess that makes me desperate, Toji. Desperate for a decent human being in my life!"

"You're pathetic. Running back to your ex because you can't handle being alone. You're so fucking desperate for attention, you'll spread your legs for anyone who gives you a second glance."

"At least I'm not a fucking whore like you!" you screamed, lunging at him. "You're the one who can't keep it in your pants! You're the one who sleeps around like it's nobody's business! You're the pathetic one, Toji! Not me!"

Toji caught you mid-air, pushing you back against the wall with a thud. "Watch your mouth." he growled, his face inches from yours. "You don't want to piss me off any further."

"Or what?" you challenged, panting heavily. "You'll hit me? Go ahead, Toji. Show me what a real man you are. Hit me, you coward!"

Toji paused, his eyes boring into yours, the anger in them simmering like a pot ready to boil over. For a moment, neither of you moved. And then, with a sudden burst of rage, he pushed off from the wall, releasing his grip on you.

"FUCK YOU Y/N!!!"

You stumbled slightly, catching yourself before falling. 

"FUCK YOU TOO, FUSHIGURO!!!" you screamed, your voice echoing through the apartment. "And yes, I fucked Suguru last night, and it was amazing! Something you wouldn't understand, considering your idea of 'fun' involves fucking whores and beating the shit out of people for money!

Toji's eyes flashed with anger, but you didn't care. You were too far gone in your rage to stop now.

"I hate you, Toji!" you spat, your voice shaking with emotion. "I've hated you ever since I met you! You're a worthless, arrogant, selfish bastard who only cares about himself! I wish I never had to meet you, never had to live with you! You're a fucking burden, and I don't need you in my life!"

Toji was left speechless, shock etched on his face. But you didn't care. You were done caring about his feelings. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed towards your bedroom. You slammed the door shut behind you, leaving him standing alone in the living room.

Toji stood frozen in place, your words echoing in his mind like a physical blow. He felt a strange sensation in his chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. He stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the couch as he tried to process what he was feeling.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why does hearing her say that make me feel like this? Like...like my insides are being squeezed aggressively."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the sting of unshed tears in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to force them back.

"This is ridiculous." he told himself, clenching his fists. "I've never cared about anyone like this before. Why start now? Especially with her?"

But despite his attempts to rationalize his feelings, the ache in his chest persisted. He couldn't deny the fact that hearing you say those things, seeing the disdain in your eyes as you looked at him, had cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

"Why does it hurt so much?" he wondered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why do I feel like my heart is being crushed in my chest?"

("I hate you, Toji." - Y/N) Your words still echoing in his thoughts.

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. He'd never felt like this before, never experienced this gut-wrenching pain that seemed to consume him whole. It was terrifying.

"I must be losing my mind." he thought, rubbing his temples. "There's no way I could be...feeling this way."

But try as he might, he couldn't ignore the ache in his heart, the longing that filled him whenever he thought about you. He couldn't deny the fact that the mere idea of you being with someone else made him want to tear apart anyone who dared to touch you.

"Fuck." he breathed, his eyes widening as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. "I...I love her."

He staggered back, shock coursing through his veins. He loves you. He, Toji Fushiguro, the Sorcerer Killer, the man who had never cared about anyone or anything, is in love. WITH YOU.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End Of Chapter 19 🥀....

A/N : No more DENIAL for our Dadeeeh Toji.

@meowforluv @miizuzu @geniejunn @scorpiosugar

[eydi-andrius]

Fool Entire II

warnings: none, a chase but none at all

pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Highborn!Reader

summary:

If someone asked you who Prince Aemond was in your life, you probably would have said the love of your life.

Years have passed but still your heart yearns for him. 

But you were no fool.

It was a lesson learned for you not to give your heart to a man who knows nothing but duty. Highly inspired by the song Bitter Water by Oh Hellos.

a/n: thank you so much for all of your kind words. y'all know how to cheer up this duck. i also started watching chainsaw man and it helped me with swimming out of my misery. thank you and love you all, lovelies!

like always, LIKES are really welcome but this duck will do the duck dance if you also REBLOG and LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS about her stories. i love reading them and they inspire me a lot. ✨ Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

+++++

"He was looking for you." 

Mysaria's voice echoed throughout the room and your body went rigid by the mention of the word "he". 

Even without mentioning who she was referring to, your mind only sees one person. His silver locks and tall frame in your memory were as clear as the days you have him on your side.

That someone has been haunting your dreams and waking life for the whole year.

Someone you thought you'll forget sooner when he revealed who he truly was. 

However, it wasn't as easy as they've said. 

You can always hear him anywhere. Smell his familiar scent that once brought warmth and love to your heart. Feel his calloused hands clasping yours as he retold how his day had been. He always carries the air of comfort you believed was impossible to have in King's Landing. Yet, he did it with ease and regal. He was your sun. Bright, beautiful and restful. He was the source of your delight that you forgot how the sun can be harsh the longer you stay close to it. 

You thought of his light as gifts long ago but now it was the source of your nightmares and it blinded you from the truth.

The truth that he changed and the love you once shared was nothing but an illusion you created to protect your sanity from your crumbling life that once was an envy to others. 

It gets worse the more you try to push the memories away. It gets stronger and more vile. It was torture. 

You gulped and straightened your back before you looked at Mysaria. 

"Who?" You bite your lip to prevent it from trembling. You're nervous, scared and resentful. What does he need after all this time?

"You know who." Simple words came out of her lips but the impact resounded on your veins. Anger overtook you and with a bitter smile continued the conversation with her. 

"I do not understand why you are sharing this with me." You turned your back to her and continued the work you had forgotten for a moment. 

"Aren't you curious?" She said and you heard the rustle of her coat as she sat on the nearby stool. 

"Why would I be? We both know that when men look for the woman they discarded, it always ends poorly for the lady." And it always does. They mysteriously die or they get miserably imprisoned. Nothing in between. 

Silence remains as you continue sewing the clothes. The needle puncturing the cloth echoes loudly and fills the quiet between the two of you. But you can still feel her eyes trained on you, waiting. 

"Do you know why he was looking for me?" You finally asked. The thrill of ending the discussion was your only purpose asking. 

"I did not inquire. I do not want to know unless you tell me to." With a sigh, she responded and looked from afar. 

"I don't want to know." You replied.

"Then I'll pretend I did not hear about it." Defeated, she looked back at you again. A kind look passes her eyes. 

A soft "hmmmm" was your only answer as you reeled back your mind to focus on your current task. You do not need any more distractions. The thoughts of him will not fill you and your sister's belly with a warm meal. 

~~~~~~~

You huffed as you suddenly stopped, almost tumbling forward, you looked around thinking of where you must go.

"Why are we running!?" An angry shout was heard on your back as Simon tried his best to keep up with you. 

If you were still a lady, this type of run was not possible as you were taught to be refined at a young age, at all cost. But after what you have been through, running fast and smart was the first thing you learned in order to survive the harsh truth of living a poor life.

"Tell me where would you go if you wanted to run and not be found by someone?" You looked at him with fear visible in your eyes. 

His earlier scowl turned into worry as he looked at you. 

"Tell me what is going on?" 

"I-" You opened your mouth to explain even a little for him to understand your fear but then you heard your name echoed among the throng of people on the street. 

It was impossible to hear it especially if it was called among the busy streets and surrounded by the loud noises of the area yet you did. You’ve heard it growing up, all your life and you will not mistook it from anything else. 

You missed how your name rolled off his tongue. How his tone becomes softer and kinder each time he mentions your name even on the worst days of him. 

You turned around and saw his lilac eye staring at you. He was on the other side and only the people were his obstacles before he could stand in front of you. 

He was breathing heavily and hair disheveled, the hood of his robe flew away, revealing his beautiful silver hair.

You were standing on the other side, frozen. You have forgotten why you run away. You only see him. He had gotten older, mature. But still as beautiful as you remembered him. Silver hair is longer than before. He also wears a new eye patch. The leather is more refined than the ones you help him wear each day. 

He called forth your name once again and was about to step forward when Ser Criston tapped his shoulder and his attention was caught by him off guard. 

Like a cold water splashed on your face, you realized the reason why you ran and looked back at Simon again, begging. 

He looked between you and Aemond and was glad when he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the narrow streets to the center of the market. Running away from the company you did not expect to see today.

By the time you two turned the corner, your name was shouted by him again and hurried footsteps followed you once more. 

You expertly dodges the vendors who carry their wares and jump through the carts that blocked your way following Simon diligently. 

Meanwhile, you can hear on your back the angry shouts of those who surprised him or Ser Criston’s groans of apologies as they manage their way to the unfamiliar street of Street of Silk. 

You ducked when two men holding a pig blocked your way. They were surprised by your sudden appearance and completely stood still in the middle of the street, shouting curses your way. Without looking back you yelled a loud apology as you continued your legs to run faster and forward. 

However, when you were about to pass a cart full of fruit, a groan of pain caught your attention and you looked back. 

Aemond's hair was caught in between a wheel, possibly because he tried to jump on it but was pulled back when it caught his hair. 

You were contemplating whether to help him or not when strong arms suddenly hugged and pulled you back with him. Before you can open your mouth to yell for help, he covered yours and was pulled on a small opening behind a cart. The small door was shut off quickly and you caught a glimpse of Simon in front of you. 

The old man signaled for you to be quiet and you nodded at him. 

It did not take long before hurried footsteps were heard in front of the small wooden door. You can hear his familiar voice yelling "Qogralbar!" a Valyrian phrase you get used to hearing whenever he is frustrated or annoyed with Aegon.

The sound of your huffed breaths were loud on your ears as all your senses were fixated on any sounds that the men made outside. Until you heard strong footsteps halted in front of the door. 

"Have you seen a lady running towards this way?" His deep voice not only echoed through the tight space but also inside your head as it soothes something that you tried so hard to kill and forget. 

"You see….. It is normal for this street to see ladies and men running around, running away and running to get away from someone. You need to be more specific about that, ai?" The vendor that was asked replied and all his response was a loud gruffed of disapproval. Even without seeing his face you can imagine his usual sneer. 

"My prince, I'm afraid we must go and look now for your brother." Another voice can be heard on the other side, that voice belongs to Ser Criston. When he said brother? Does he mean Aegon is on the Street of Silk? Again? At least something never changes.

Their voices were quiet for a moment before you heard fading footfalls walking away from your hiding space. You breathed a sigh of relief and sagged down. Simon gave a light chuckle at your action. 

"I am truly amazed by your speed." He praised and even laughed at you. 

You laughed back at what he said and shyly said "thank you." 

You were startled when suddenly the door was pried open and a familiar round face of a child peeked at the two of you. 

"They're gone." He said and ate the apple he was holding. You nodded a silent thanks and crawled outside the space. 

When you were able to go out fully and stand up, a sharp whistle caught your attention and all the loitering people surrounding the area disappeared and sat down in places that will never bother those who will decide to walk here. 

You turned around when you heard the clanking coins and saw Simon giving the older man who whistled a bag of coins. 

The old man whistled again when he opened the bag and saw what was inside. The child who called forth you two was tiptoeing trying to check the contents of the bag. 

"She your mistress?" The man looked and pointed at you using his lips. He wears a goatee and his face has a large scar across his cheek. 

Your face reddened and was about to explain when Simon turned his hand to a fist and hit the man on his head. 

"We both know my wife is my only love. Stop joking around, Scar." He replied angrily and Scar just gave a throaty laugh. 

"She's Mysaria's, best to treat her well." Simon continued and the man named Scar looked at you and nodded. 

"Ah…Best to treat her right then. Anyway, I'll go. This will be used for booze, ai!?" He yelled and all the people around yelled "yes" in unison. 

You moved forward and stood beside Simon. 

"I did not know this existed…." His only response was a sigh and he looked at the retreating frame of Scar. 

"This existed not a long time ago when I decided to stay here. Scar is a friend and he is a people person. I'm glad he is doing well" He replied with a look of content and pride. 

"Let's go. I'll take you home to make sure you'll be safe so I can ask Mysaria for my lost gold again because of your mysterious Targaryen following you." He winked and you frowned at what he said. 

"Targaryen? You knew him?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. 

"I do. I am a mercenary. I knew what nobles looked like. And Targaryen was well known for their silver hair. I'll ask you about him at our next meeting. You must go home now and take care of yourself." His face was etched with worry as he stared at your hands. You looked at it and saw that it was shaking. You do not know if it came from fear or you were glad you were able to lose him but you know that you must go home. 

The walk home was quiet as Simon whistled a tune and you stared at the floor the whole time. 

Maybe you should have asked Mysaria to know why he was looking for you and maybe you could have avoided running around the market to get away from him. 

But it was also a fact that no lady who was discarded came out alive except you. You cannot risk it. 

So you pray to the new gods that this will be the last time you'll meet him. For your safety and sanity. 

"We're here." Simon announced while his hands were on his back. He was standing nearby your home. 

"Thank you. I cannot thank you enough for saving me, again." You smiled at him and he smiled back. 

"Oh! Don't thank me. I will be paid for running around and saving you. So no, thank you." He responded with a grin. “I beg not to ask for Mysaria’s, I’ll pay for it.” You told him when you realize the amount of debt you must have now with the mistress. “Nah! Mysaria treats you better than her girls. I bet she even liked you like her daughter.” “We both know she hated children.” “That I agree.” He nodded with confirmation and you chuckled. Remembering the way she discarded the idea of children so easily.

He waved his hand once more and you waved back as he walked away from your home. 

The small, almost collapsing house, was the home you had known since you started living your new life. It might be run down in someone else’s eyes but you were proud of what you had accomplished on this tiny stone house with a couple of holes on the roof. And you might be ashamed of your previous life in front of all the noble ladies in King’s Landing but no one can shame you for the hard work you did in this second life. You smiled before opening the door softly, afraid to destroy the hinges completely. You called your sister's name but was surprised when you were met with her worried eyes and figure standing in the kitchen. Body facing the wooden seat you had, the only seat you have.

Confused about what was going on, you stepped forward and was met by someone who stood up from sitting. His face was obstructed by his hair at first but when he turned…..you felt your face distorted into a frown. 

Your breath quickens with worry and eyes rounded from surprise. You tried to open your mouth to say anything but was too astonished to even form words. 

You looked up from your sister when she called out your name and asked you if you knew who the mysterious visitor was. It might be mysterious for her because she was way too young back then but you remembered him.

“Uncle……..what are you doing here?”