#but i've been staring at it for a solid hour trying to decide so
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Got Me Snoring pt.2
A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long... I've been doubting doing a part two simply because the first blew up like... crazy... and I'm afraid this one isn't going to measure up to the first. But THANK YOU to everyone for the love on part one... it's wild how much you all liked it. I appreciate all of you thirsty fuckers.
Summary: Ghost is set on giving you the same change of perception on reviving head after figuring out just how bad you are at taking care of yourself.
T/W: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, cunnilingus, size kink if you squint, spit?, lots of fem! fluids, a little male fluids..., cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and I'm still terrified this is gonna suck.
You woke up with a sore throat.
No doubt or haze in your mind about how it happened or why. And the only thing you could think was the word big…. big… big…
God, Ghost was so fucking huge. You nearly mistook the images in your mind for a dream. One so goddamn filthy you’d not be able to look him in the eyes. Only one of those big hands was sprawled over your belly. Fingers digging possessively into the little bit of pudge under them. Denting your skin and steadily reminding you of the rest of his body melted against the back of yours. You’d not moved an inch all night. Highly unusual on a normal day, but not with your Lieutenant sharing the bed.
Sharing a seat on the plane home wasn’t familiar either.
He felt inhumanly warm with his arm rubbing yours as the jet stream rocked the cabin of the plane. And the looks shared between the others as they watched the pair of you didn’t make your skin feel any cooler. Gaz staring at the spot where Ghost’s thigh rested against yours nearly made your pants singe. You couldn’t believe Ghost was just sitting there with his head leaning back against the wall. Maybe sleeping… he wasn’t really moving much. But you couldn’t tell. Nor possess enough confidence to look up or nudge him and find out.
Your sore throat ached a bit too. Raw, and making your voice scratchy, it’d been hard to give a solid ‘good morning’ without everyone asking if you’d come down with something. Your only thought was how Ghost came down something… and you had swallowed. A thought that felt good to hear in your own head… at least when Captain Price wasn’t looking at you with sharp, observant eyes.
Surprisingly, Ghost wasn’t the one who made you feel anxious. He’d been… different in leading up to the flight home. Having your bag packed before you’d noticed, getting you up before the others…. ‘Answer their questions later, little one.’ he’d whispered, masked mouth heating up your ear as he murmured so closely to it. Thoughtful… you’d decided. Realizing only after he’d solved the problem that waking up in bed with him would’ve caused a stir amongst the boys. He even made you tea… the way you like it; With some thick honey at the bottom. No doubt for your rasping voice.
No. Ghost was different.
No one had the gall to mention the Lieutenant strangely shadowing you though. Like you’d suddenly gained a massive black phantom tagging alone at your heels. On missions he would linger close by without anyone noticing, but that just felt… professional. Watching his wide shoulders slump towards yours while sitting on a shitty, makeshift, bench in a cargo plane? That was a whole different look. Even Price spent a good half hour chewing on an unlit cigar, trying to work out what you two had talked about the night before for Ghost to act like this. It was clear though. None of them suspected anything close to what actually happened.
Sitting next to him felt surreal. Especially when he’d been the one who silently insisted that you sit next to him. Having snatched you by your belt and tugged you onto the bench beside him instead of letting you find somewhere mushed between Gaz and Soap like normal. A low grunt of a sound and a firm nod pointed in your direction once he got a look at you sitting next to him much more shyly than normal.
You could smell his cologne, and memorize the tattoos peeking out close to his wrist. Feel his leg twitch to steady himself in his seat when the plane shook a bit. Even listen to the sound of his steady breathing. A whole new experience you’d not really thought about trying before. You nearly felt like you were learning Ghost all over again. Taking every small movement and reexamining it. Because… you couldn’t deny that he had readjusted his view of you.
A blowjob shouldn’t have felt that… intimate, you thought. Remembering the undeniably filthy things Ghost had said. It should’ve left you fulfilled… but not like you actually were. Some warm, expanding feeling, filling up your chest and making you want to hide your face and giggle. A grade school crush level of nervous energy you’d never felt towards a man before. Yet here you were, sitting there half-dumbstruck, watching your Lieutenant stretch his long legs and sigh softly as the landing gear rolled to a stop on the tarmac.
“Comin’?” He muttered, voice level. Maybe a bit impatient as those dark eyes settled on you.
Normal… you reminded yourself. He wasn’t talking you differently; No need to over analyze everything. Letting him lead was the smartest thing. The only way, really.
“Yeah,” Your voice makes you hesitate to say anything more. “Just got stuck staring…”
Ghost doesn’t show any real reaction. Just nods, and grabs his rucksack off the floor next to him. Wordlessly taking yours along in the same hand, walking off with -essentially- everything you had. Suddenly motivating you to not only move your ass off the plane, but follow his long strides to wherever it was he was possessed to go. And whether or not the others even noticed, you didn’t have the luxury of worrying about.
The Lieutenant had your weapons… and your only clean pair of pants.
You didn’t have to follow him far though. Only walking a few meters past your own quarters and down a hallway. Staring at the wide gap between his shoulder blades and the heavy sway that rocked the belt clipped around his hips.
He had your bag tossed next to his on a desktop inside his room without a single trace of the fact it wasn’t a habit. Sitting down heavily and reaching over stiffly to tug at the laces of his boots. Toeing them off with small squeaks of new leather and sitting them under the desk. Either purposefully staying silent to listen to your brain working, or totally unaware that you were stupidly standing there, watching your Lieutenant do a decidedly human thing with wide eyes.
“Come’ere…”
Ghost took off your boots just as simply as his own. Quiet, leaned over your foot propped up on his thigh and not even mentioning your hand resting on his shoulder to steady yourself. Feeling him tug the blouse out of your pant legs, and gently squeeze at your ankle to hold your foot steady.
You didn’t know how to feel about it.
Mortified… maybe. For the simple fact that you had worn the same socks for two days and his head was too close for comfort. Touching you. At least, touching you in a way that wasn’t meant for sex. It didn’t feel like you were doing enough. Weren’t providing him anything.
Guilty… yes? This wasn’t something normal in any situation. You hated a return. It’s what made you feel like you were causing a problem. Made laying low and staying quiet a habitual behavior. And Ghost being the one bent over and struggling to undo the tight knots in your laces? Nearly unacceptable. He didn’t need to… shouldn’t lower himself like that.
Ghost noticed it and you tried to beat him to the punch.
“You don’t have to-”
“Look like you’re gonna faint.”
That hand squeezing softly on your ankle tightens a little before releasing, gliding up your calf and patting you softly before guiding it off his leg. Those dark eyes look up and down your clothes, over your decidedly nervous expression, and back down to your boots before sitting them right next to his.
“Don’t tell me…” he mutters, leaning back in his chair, hands resting on his hips. “You’re not a fan of receiving… are you?”
~
The next two days, you leaned quickly that what was his, suddenly had made room to account for you as well. Almost instantaneously you’d been accounted for in just about every single way you could think of. You washed laundry… you found it put away in one of his drawers. You ordered food to base… it was in his room, not yours. Tried to get into your old quarters… the key wouldn’t open it anymore.
How he’d managed it, you didn’t even want to know. But, Ghost effortlessly took into account every single thing necessary to move you into his life without even a single question. And managed to do it perfectly. You couldn’t question it either, since he’d accomplished the endless tasks to such a degree of attention that you weren’t sure a man could even reach.
“Um, have you seen my black jeans?” The question felt a bit odd, and so did standing in the doorframe of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.
“Top drawer. In the closet, next to my pants.”
You couldn’t quite adjust this easily. Not that it wasn’t what you wanted per se. You’d enjoyed Ghost’s company more than anyone else the past couple days. And while he’d been accommodating, it wasn’t like he was bowing to your feet. He came and go as he wanted and didn’t crowd you like he was clingy either. However he did make you feel uneasy with how little he made a fuss about doing something for you.
You never asked for him to do anything. Yet he managed to do everything you ‘hadn’t gotten around to’. And worst of all, when it was time to sleep, he wouldn’t lay down until you eventually caved in and crawled under the blankets first. Almost like he was letting you get settled exactly how you wanted before even thinking about moving closer. No sex. No outward attempt at it. Not even a subliminal hint that he wanted more of your mouth, or anything else for that matter.
It nearly broke you. Or, better spoken, broke your perception of how you expected him to act. Which, made sense considering Ghost wasn’t anything close to the men you’d been with previously. They were always pushy… and he didn’t even push you to your side of the bed when you unconsciously wormed your way to his side at night. Your exes treated sex like a favor needing to be owed. And Ghost wouldn’t begin to act like he’d ever thought about the possibility despite having fucked your throat like he owned it.
Your jeans were indeed in the drawer next to his. And he did ask you to grab a pair of his as you retrieved yours, adding on that you’d be leaving in fifteen minutes… unless you needed more time to get ready.
You finished up in less than ten.
A bar on a Saturday night was Soap’s idea. Drinks, a few cigars, and the whole task force was his way of ‘team bonding’ and no one had a good enough excuse to deny him. Especially when there was a new mission lingering in the next couple weeks, and Price already had the files on hand. You thought it was a bit cliché. Sitting in a musty bar, listening to Price talk over the music about terrain, entry points, possible back-up, and the preemptive teams he was putting together.
It seemed his mind had been working just as hard as yours over the past days. Only you were preoccupied with Ghost’s hand firmly kneading at your thigh under the table. His thumb working at a sore spot just up and to the right of your knee. Forefinger squeezing to alternate the pressure and resist from making the movements feel too harsh. Looking far too relaxed while scanning a document and flipping through the pages with his free hand.
You’d resisted for hours at this point. Forcing yourself to stay quiet and not say something about it. Reminding yourself he was just doing it because he wanted to. Not because he thought he’d get something out of it. He wasn’t holding out. Every time his skilled fingers found another sore spot that made you twitch, you needed to physically clamp your mouth shut or take a drink so you didn’t tell him to stop.
“Another round?” Gaz held up a few bills in his hand, looking around the table.
When everyone agreed, you lost the willpower to sit still. Straightening up and trying to scoot towards the edge of your seat.
“I’ll go up since you’re paying.” The rush in your voice was lost on everyone. Everyone but the man who suddenly locked down with a vice grip on your leg.
Ghost didn’t even flinch. Still looking at the file in his hand, but that cold grip on you didn’t hesitate. Gluing you to your seat and enhancing the sudden sensation of his fingertips dipping under the ripped material stretching over your thigh. You couldn’t understand it. Dumbly trying a second time to stand up, only for it to earn you a side-eyed glance and a slight pinch to your exposed skin.
“No.” he muttered, chin jutting out in the direction of the man, already heading towards the table after seeing Gaz pull out cash .“The waiter’s comin’.”
And right on cue, a younger guy walked up and began taking orders. Going around the table, and stopping at Ghost was a very familiar kind of apprehension on his face after seeing that black mask stretched over his face. If only he could see under the table at the way your thigh was shaking from the soft touches.
“Nothin’ for us,” Such a cool dismissal of the guy that you hardly even notice what he said. “Price, leavin’ out.” He added, moving his hand to palm the back of your neck easily. Giving the slightest tug to get you up out of your seat as well.
“Little one’s comin’ with me.”
Not a soul at the table questions it.
~
Against the wall yet again.
Not unlike the first time… Ghost has a pattern. You’re breathless, but much more unaware of how this situation is going to play out. He hadn’t said a word in the drive, and kept the tightest sightline out the windshield you couldn’t even see his irises from your profile view in the passenger seat. The second he could spot the door to his room? His big body bullied yours right where he wanted it. Keeping you pacified by a hand over your mouth and dark, plotting eyes glaring down.
“Why’d you do that?” His question further raised the questions in your head. It’s all you can do to shrug, as if you had much autonomy over the rest of your body at this point anyways.
“At the bar,” The clarification deepens his irritated tone. “Why’d you take orders like that, huh? Like some fuckin’ maid.”
“You all wanted drinks.”
Unfortunately it’s not the answer he wanted, and you’re hauled that much further up the wall. Only now, you’re suspended fully off the ground. Balanced on his forearm jammed between your thighs; feeling his palm flat against the wall. God, it felt fucking ridiculous. He shouldn’t been able to do it, but he wasn’t even shaking. Dead calm and just watching you unintentionally grind down more on his arm the longer you’re forced to stay like that.
“I got my own.”
You nearly catch an attitude. Wanting to mention that it’s just ‘polite’. And for that matter, you’d not paired for a single drink all night. So, naturally it was only fair you go get them… You settle on saying something a bit more safe. Maybe more manageable even with how little your mouth wants to function.
“I didn’t pay.”
Ghost just snarls, head tilted and looming closer.
“I don’t fuckin’ care,” His hips flinch forwards, jamming against you to send the point home. And you’re not stupid enough to ignore that he’s hard. The long, thick line of his cock disappearing under the edge of his belt; tucked safely to have been able to escape the bar without anyone throwing looks his way.
“Stop doin’ shit just because.” He growls out a bit more directly. “Do it because you want it.”
His point skims over your understanding. “I do what I want!”
“Sure, sweetheart.” The dismissal is soft enough you know he’s not totally pissed.
“When’s the last time you made yourself feel good, huh?” He pauses, giving you a glimpse of his tongue licking his lips under that mask. “I think I remember you sayin’ you’ve faked it plenty of times… How many times is that? How many times you ignored that pussy cryin’ for attention?”
You get it. Oh, you finally understand… And damn it your face doesn’t burn hot with the realization that he’d caught on to just how bad you were about prioritizing yourself. Not even the dull, thudding pressure of your cunt sitting directly in his muscled forearm is enough to distract you from it. The mind game over, and Ghost holding yet another victory in his hand.
“I.. I don’t know,” You look away, unwilling to admit it. “A few times.”
“Bullshit,” He grunts, jerking his lower body against yours yet again. “You might not know that… but you do know how many men… don’t ya, sweetheart?”
Chest caving in defeat, you answer. “Five.”
Ghost’s chuckle is almost patronizing. A deep, rumbling one low in his chest that makes chills run up your back. Purposefully his wrist rotates a bit and your clit rolls over a thick muscle. You’re helpless to hide the pinched yelp it earns him, and it only makes him chuckle for longer. If you’d been in any other position, it would’ve been music to your ears. Now it just felt… punishing. Arousing beyond belief, yes, but still a bit of a sting to your pride.
“Five boys…” He muses aloud. “Not a fuckin’ one with enough sense to breathe without thinkin’.”
He stills for a moment, eyebrows furrowing over dark brown eyes. A debate in his head.
“Then i’ll teach you…” He nods once. Firm and resolved to the decision. His free hand coming up to trace your jawline with a reverent, almost scared touch. “Now that you’re mine… I’ll teach you how to be selfish.”
“S’not like I don’t know how.” It’s a wonder you’re able to sound that confident between the pressure to your cunt and the way he’s talking to you. Unflinching as always, he just smirks under that mask.
“Gonna show you how easy it is… to take pleasure. How to enjoy it.” Each word falls from his lips like thick honey. Whatever he’s planning so fucking rich in his kind that even his mouth slows and his accent thickens at the mere imagination of it. “You’re gonna learn to be good for me… and M’gonna start with that little pussy…”
One dangerous look down at where your thighs are trying to clench together freezes you.
“Not gonna let her be ignored anymore…”
~
Ghost’s tongue curls through your swollen, sensitive, lips; helping guide himself to your pulsing clit. Humming victoriously when your stomach flexes and your body jerks away from the steady pressure. Each lick is the same. Dragging up your slit and purposely spitting against your hole until you both can feel it dripping between your cheeks. Taking his time like this was almost painful. Feeling the twitch of his jaw against your inner thighs and hearing his thick swallows as he drank down your arousal.
It almost made you feel queasy, being the sole focus of this. Your hands unable to find somewhere to rest. Feet unwilling to settle on his back or off to the sides, like you knew you probably should be. Ghost was so intense that you shook. Muscles tremoring around his head and exciting him that much more. You were still stiff though, and it showed. Much to his excitement, it meant that he’d have that much more time between your legs. More opportunities to take you out of your head and throw you into a totally new one.
“It ain’t my mouth makin’ you shake, little one.” He murmurs, almost like he’s talking to your cunt instead. It’s hard to reply when those dark brown eyes lay locked on you from between your slicked thighs.
“I… I don’t know…”
Ghost just chuckles, kissing your inner thigh. Both hands slipping between your legs and using his thumbs to spread you open for him. Heavy eyes looking at your glistening hole covered in his saliva. Spitting on you yet again, and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh when your breath evaporates from the sheer sight of it.
“M’gonna make you feel everythin’ they couldn’t,” your eyes nearly roll back in your skull when he blows a soft, cool, breath over your hot skin. “You’ll memorize what my tongue feels like in your cunt… never gonna come empty again…”
You clench when those words come out more like a threat than a promise. Having heard that tone so many times sitting in on his interrogations. Always relating it to pure torture and the promise of wishing for death over being rested in Ghost’s hands. Only now it was startling just how badly you wanted to hear him speak like that again. Never having heard anyone sound so fucking serious about sex, or find yourself reacting so desperately. Your eyes scrunching shut and your head falling back against the bed, nearly pained with anticipation and a healthy dose of the most fearful arousal you’d mustered.
“Ghost - please, please… just, god take it easy on me.” Your voice is soft, pleading. Actually a bit timid of how far he planned on taking this. Of course he wouldn’t hurt you. You trusted him that much. But pleasure could be just as effective of torture, and Ghost was well-versed.
Another kiss presses to your thigh, “Nothin’ without your permission,” Those dark eyes gain crinkled lines at the corners though as he smiles. “But you’ll like it, little one. Every disgustin’ thing m’gonna do to make this pussy cream…”
His thumb glides over your outer lips, toying with you. Gentle to avoid sensitive spots and draw this out, but mean enough to remind you just how dedicated he was.
“Yeah, baby… you’re gonna look so good when I lick the fuckin’ come out of you.”
His mouth descends over you without another moment of hesitation. Still slow, but now it’s not just his tongue lapping at you. It’s his lips, rough with a couple days neglected of shaving. His teeth -which make you jump at first- pinching and nipping. But it’s all in the perfect pressure. Somehow fully aware of how sensitive you are right now and that the slightest move could be far too much. Reversing your twitches of apprehension into soft rolls of your hips against his face. Allowing you to guide him without a word. Learning how you want it whether or not you ever realized that it was guiding him better than a map.
You loved the slow, consistent pressure around your clit. Not rubbing right over it like he was sure you’d been subjected to before. No… you needed it softer. Sweeter. Just how a pretty girl like you deserved. Circles with a flattened tongue and his fingers working inside you. Even then, you got so fucking tight when he didn’t pull his fingers out all the way. Instead letting you milk them as the pads of his fingers curled against that textured, upper wall needing attention.
God, it was so easy. You had such beautifully clear reactions. What felt good, you’d nearly hold still for. As if you’d never felt it before and couldn’t withhold from the desperate curiosity. And when it didn’t, such polite grinds and roll of your hips would be almost too helpful in moving the bridge of his nose or his tongue to where you wanted it.
Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he ate pussy with such rapt attention. Enjoy it had always been easy. The taste, the sounds, feeling in control… any man in his right mind would relish in it. But you? You made his hard cock brushing up against the mattress fall to a true afterthought. He didn’t even care that there was enough precum drooling from his tip to soak through denim jeans.
Your first orgasm is a beautiful accident. Ghost’s body isn’t even what earns it. It’s his fucking mouth saying the nastiest things imaginable with a busy tongue stroking your clit. Rambling low and sluggishly, a thick lisp when his bottom lip tries to slide across your pussy on the right syllables.
Good job, tha’s it… s’good for me.
Keep fuckin’ drippin’ like that.
Stay right there -just like that- let me lick her clean baby…
You come quick and hard. Not even getting to relish in the feeling of release that wasn’t by your own hand before Ghost is working for another. It’s the most impatient habit he’s got and won’t deviate. Using the clench of your pussy around him to advantage by working you open all over again. Purposefully providing that “first touch” stretch throughout orgasms like a reset. Short term memory erasure of all his hard work just to massage at your shaking legs as gentle reassurance.
“Don’t — Don’t stop.” Your panting. Wanting to warn him as the second approaches a bit slower.
You’re still nervous to perform, but the edge is off. Having been given just enough reassurance that you can, in fact, come from someone else’s touch. But the slight tremor in your voice hints at the hesitation you have to come again.
Enough time elapsed to overthink what you sound like. How you appear from this angle and anything in between that has been a problem before now. Ghost doesn’t move an inch. The only thing he does is take a steady deep breath and move one arm to rest his forearm on the bed. Like he’s settling in.
Getting fucking comfortable.
And he stays just like that until you’re shoving yourself up the bed and away from his chasing mouth to try and take at least one complete breath. Your feet sliding in the sheets and the hair on the back of your neck getting cold once it’s not matted to the pillow. Previous experience anticipates that it’s the end. That Ghost isn’t going to follow. That he’ll take the credit for making you come twice, and enjoy a fluttering, wet cunt around his cock.
His face is next to yours and his swollen lips are kissing your temple over and over sweetly. One hand keeps his heavy weight off of you while the other gently reaches to your neck. Holding your head to ease the acute angle of it and shyly feel your pulse. You’re too dazed to see the look on his face. How relaxed he is, counting your heart beats and watching sweat slide across your temple and get caught in the baby hairs there. Observant, but utterly obsessed by this moment. Drinking in self-satisfaction and the much more addictive taste of seeing you fall apart under him.
“I got you. I’m here, breathe baby.” Keeping his chest close, he exaggerates his own. Pressing against you, grounding the feeling.
“It’s so much.” Admitting it makes you feel awful. Like you’re not enjoying it more than anything you’ve felt before. But you’re unable to explain just how raw your nerves feel. Terrified that if he touches your clit again it would bring real tears to your eyes.
Ghost moves closer, sharing body heat you didn’t know you even wanted. “I know, little one… you’re so sensitive. S’okay.” He answers, gently reaching down to pull both your thighs together and against him.
Curling you to his body and holding your legs to help ease the radiating pleasure signals thrumming in your pussy. His hand rubbing your outer thigh, squeezing at the stretched muscles in your hip. Dissipating the tightly-wound lower half of your body that is still expecting his fingers to touch you again. Split between wishing he would force another orgasm out of you and nearly passing out from overstimulation.
Ghost knows better though. You’d gone too long without someone else controlling your pleasure that it was going to be hard enough. And a second only compounded your body’s response. In the moment he felt possessed to prove a point. Really, the same one you had for him. But the moment you scurried back, that part of his brain turned off. Keeping you safe in this state was just as important as anything else. He didn’t want you faking anything again. That included when you felt like you couldn’t take more.
“We’re done, baby…” he kisses your cheek, tasting the sting of salt on his lips. “No more; jus’ easy touches… M’not gonna play anymore.”
It works wonders, simply taking the guesswork out of this. Allowing your legs to fully sag against him, trusting those fingers grazing up and down. Even your head letting go of the remaining tension holding you off the pillow. Ghost can’t help but smile. Kissing you yet again. And again. Helping himself to the sounds of your breaths evening out and the softness of your dewy skin on his mouth.
His hot body sticks to yours a bit, but it’s comfortable. Helps you feel secure, laying there balled up and trying to work through the multiple sensations still making it nearly impossible to open you eyes and look at him. Desiring to say a simple ‘thank you’ or at least, give him a smile just to show that you’re appreciative. Another one of those nasty little things you’re convinced is necessary right after the deed. Poised to give positive reinforcement at the first moment so the guy won’t run off.
“Th-thank you,” The way you say it almost sounds guilty to Ghost. Even the hand rubbing you doubles down, more firmly. Like he’s hoping to keep his own emotions in check by reminding himself of how skewed your perceptions are.
“S’not a ‘thank you’,” He replies, lips against your ear, feeling the easy, toothless, smile he’s got. “Told you the other day… I wanted it. Wanted you.”
Your eyes do open then. Hearing him refer back to the mission. Like he’s not the least bit affected by it in an embarrassed kind of way. Adding that much more reinforcement to the nearly unbelievable idea that he’s actually meant it and not just so he could get a bit closer to you. Surely he couldn’t, right?
“You mean that?”
Ghost’s eyes brighten, and he chuckles very deeply. Bumping his forehead against yours.
“You and your sweet pussy aren’t going anywhere.”
requests are thanks to: bvxygriimes bobochacha kmcmpmd simonsslvt verynastyspoon featherbrainedangel flower-olive riri-is-a-girlie bii-aan-ckaa mxshpitmom stormy-knight134 glocuseguardian3rd variety-fangirl and about eight anons that I can't tag unfortunately :(
you're all so lovely and I want to give you each a big smooch
reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
my ask box is always open, but fair warning I'm slow haha
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod#cod mwii#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#velvetures writes#velvetures#anon <3#velvetures answers#anon answered#anon ask
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Can you do a Syzoth/Reptile x reader, about him telling the reader about things they should know about him & his reptilian form before they date each other? Thank you!!!
Are You Sure?
Picture lightly edited by me.
Description: It takes all the courage in the world to tell Syzoth how you really feel about him. But Syzoth isn't so sure that you can handle a Zaterran as a lover. So he decides to tell you everything you need to know, before taking your relationship to the next level...
Warnings: Fluff, Pining, A Small Bit Of NSFW. (For brief mention of breeding.)
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: I am sooooo sorry this took so long for me to finish! I've been dealing with some health issues and other personal struggles recently so I've been having a hard time getting things done quickly. But I'm getting better so hopefully that will change soon. I want any other anons to know that I still fully intend on finishing your requests and to other readers, please don't let this discourage you from sending any requests. I love hearing all of your ideas! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this fic. 🖤
MasterList: 🖤
Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @bihansthot, @katiralovely.
(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)
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I slumped down under a shady tree after practicing fighting for a solid two hours. Lord Liu Kang told me the monks would be harsh, but I never expected training to be just as hard as it was. So I sat — the back of my head hitting the bark of the tree as it fell back onto my shoulders — and I let out a tired sigh. My eyes began to fall shut but then the wrestling of tree branches jerked me right awake as I let out a startled gasp. I looked up to find the source of this sudden commotion only to see Syzoth — in his human form — staring down at me from a high branch with a cheeky smile stretching his lips.
"You scared me!" I laughed as I reached an arm up to swat at his feet, which hung down from the branch he sat on.
After responding with a huff of laughter, Syzoth jumped down beside me. He sat down on the ground so close to where I was that I subconsciously held my breath, now very weary of moving in his presence. But not from fear — because it was the closest I had ever been to Syzoth before. The soft touch of his skin touching mine when our elbows brushed together, being engulfed in a cloud of his natural scent, even being able to hear his breath was enough to get my heart beat racing. To say I liked the man was quite an understatement. In my eyes, he was beautiful; I just wish I knew how to tell him that.
"It's so nice out here," he breathed before letting out a relaxed sigh. "I could sit out here for hours."
"Yeah, me too." I agreed, looking in every direction but his. Of course, I wasn't subtle about it — despite trying to be — and he noticed instantly.
"Are you ok?" He asked as his tone dipped softer with more concern.
I simply nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."
I finally mustered up the strength to look back at him and make eye contact. But as soon as my eyes met those pale green ones, I could feel my cheeks burn with a sudden heat of desire. The expression that grew on his face was much like his tone moments ago: concerned and worried.
'Shit! He notices!'
"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" He asked while placing a hand gently on my own. The sudden contact did not help my rosy completion and I felt my skin burn even more.
I quickly pulled away and nodded my head, "Yes, yes — I'm fine." I assured him. "I just got too much sun today."
It was a good lie and I just prayed that Syzoth was as gullible as I had hoped. He did not answer me after that and for a good moment, peaceful silence had fallen over us and I was glad.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and finally felt myself relax again. Looking up at the sky, I noticed that not a single cloud covered it, allowing the sun to beam down upon us. The birds chirped happily and the butterflies fluttered in the air — watching them helped all of my stresses melt away and bring me to peace. It truly was a perfect day. I let my eyes flutter shut as a cool breeze blew passed us, and then I felt completely comfortable in my surroundings.
That was until Syzoth's voice broke the long-lasting silence...
"(Y/N)," His voice came out serious as he spoke. His sudden change in tone instantly caught my attention and I turned to face the man. "I have a question that I must ask—"
"Ok — what is it?"
"Do... Do you have feelings for me?" He asked hesitantly and almost... Shyly?
I froze as soon as the words came out of his mouth and I instantly felt my cheeks burn with intense embarrassment. The shock I felt was overwhelming and I had absolutely no idea how to respond. I just sat there, thinking deeply about a million things at once.
'Does he know? Am I really that obvious? There's no way! I mean, I've done so well to hide it!... Haven't I?
As humiliating as it was, I knew I couldn't keep the truth from him for any longer. So after heaving a deep sigh to gain just a little more confidence, I spoke my confession: "Yes, Syzoth — I do have feelings for you."
He stared at me with a blank and not so surprised expression for a moment. I felt as if I was under a burning spotlight while under his gaze. Finally — after a moment that felt like a lifetime — he let out a soft sigh. It didn't seem necessarily stressed or disappointed in anyway — it was just a normal huff of air.
"Are you sure? Because — as you know — I'm no ordinary individual. I'm not human like yo—"
"I don't care, Syzoth!" I cut him off as I raised my voice slightly. I didn't mean to come off aggressive in any way — I was just eager to tell him how I felt. I exhaled slowly and lowered my voice to a more calm pitch. "I like you for you; that stuff doesn't matter."
He looked at me for a moment, almost like he was reading over my words in his mind. Something told me by his expression that he did not believe me and would need further convincing. And unfortunately, I was right.
"No, (Y/N). You do not understand." He heaved a deep breath and shifted so he was facing me more before continuing, "There is still a lot about me that you do not know. Things you are not prepared for—"
"Well... Prepare me!" I basically demanded with an enthusiastic smile and he raised a brow at me for a moment. He seemed almost hesitant to let me into his world but eventually he did nod in agreement.
"Ok... For instance, our diet mainly consists of raw flesh of animals and humans. We can eat cooked foods but we don't prefer it." He paused for a moment to check my facial expression before continuing, "We shed our skin once a year. It's a very long and uncomfortable process and I will become very irritable at that time. I like warmth and do not do well in the cold — I can't handle it, in fact. I also have to keep my skin hydrated and... There's also mating season... Um..."
His eyes averted away from mine as he shifted uncomfortably on the ground while letting out a cough. I blushed at the thought of this "mating season" he mentioned, but tried my hardest to keep my composure for his and my sake.
"I may appear human sometimes, but do know that my reptilian nature still lingers within. Are you sure you want to engage in a romantic relationship with someone like myself?"
I smiled warmly at the man sitting before me and took his big hands in my own, massaging the backs of them with my thumbs to sooth him. It was obvious he was nervous and I didn't want him to be — he deserved to be comfortable with someone for once in his life and I was going to make sure that I was that person.
"Like I said before: I like you for you. And I would be more than happy to engage in a romantic relationship with you — that is, of course, if you want to engage in one with me?"
I gazed up at him through my lashes with hope blossoming in my heart for the first time that day. I felt his hands grow sweaty in my own and the look of concern on his face remained, causing a little bit of that hope to die off.
But then his worried expression melted away with a fond smile as his cheeks turned a faint tint of pink. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against mine — not necessarily molding them into a kiss, but just holding them there. So I decided to take charge of the situation and pressed mine into his in the way a kiss would be formed. And happily, he kissed back.
I knew that loving a Zaterran would be a challenge, but I wouldn't have it any other way. My heart longed for him and now that I had him, that's all that mattered to me. I had finally found the one for me and I knew I'd be happy as long as he was at my side — this I was sure of.
》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《
#mortal kombat 1#mk1#mortal kombat reptile#mk reptile#reptile#reptile x reader#mortal kombat syzoth#mk syzoth#syzoth#syzoth x reader#KassieMortalKombatFanFics
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Being a witch is a powerful thing. You can do pretty much whatever you want with a snap of your fingers. Sure causing death and destruction will get you as enemy #1 but most things will fly under the radar.
Savannah was going out for drinks alone. It had been that kind of week. None of her friends were available so she decided to have fun with it. She used her powers to grow her chest. A very manageable D cup. Just a bit more padding on her butt with more shapely hips.
One more snap and she had flawless hair and make up. Her normally frizzy black hair become a sleek style. Her make up was very glamorous. It would have taken hours. She completed the look with a dark red knee length dress and a pair of manageable heels.
The bar was decently busy. She was sure someone would buy her a drink. She sat at the bar with her cheap vodka soda waiting for a poor chump to come along. After a bit, a middle aged fellow sat next to her. He wasn’t the perfect ideal but free drinks were, well free drinks. His back was slightly to her in the bar chair. She was formulating a plan for how to work it when he ordered his drink and a second one.
He turned to her and said "Bartender said you were drinking the cheap stuff, I've upgraded you. No one should drink that stuff." This was easier than she thought. A glass was placed in front of her she inspected it and it seemed normal. She tipped her old glass back to chug the contents. She didn't catch him slip something into her previously safe cup. she lifted it to her lips and enjoyed much better taste.
"Tell me about yourself girl" he prodded her after she had a few sips. She normally made u stories for the men at bars but she found herself telling him her real life story. He asked more questions and she answered truthfully.
"Tell me what makes you special girl" he leaned back in the chair.
"Well I am a witch" she had never revealed that to anyone. She was shocked at herself even. He just laughed a bit but gave her a suggestion.
“Why don’t you give yourself huge boobs if it’s true? Like a solid J cup? I’m sure you’ll love them” He prodded her.
“Well okay” it wouldn’t hurt to show off a bit. She pointed at her chest and they began growing. She thought D cups were large before. These were comically so. She loved them though. A massive pair of tits looked so good on her. She should have done this way sooner. She was made to have j cups. Bigger boobs are way better.
She proudly showed off her tits to the stranger. Not caring that he knew her secret. That he just made her grow her chest to enormous proportions. She just simply listened. It felt good, She was rewarded with a shiver that began at her warm wet cunt.
“I think more jiggle and sensitivity will make you enjoy them more. Try it out” He calmly stated as he gestured to the bartender for another round. He was probably right as she worked her magic again. They didn't get any bigger but they felt so much better as the moved around and bounced. FUCK they felt good now. Why did she never do this before? This man was so smart. Fuck these tits were great.
She never thought about using magic to permanently change herself. It was silly really that she waited for this man to tell her. Why was she listening to him even. He noticed the confused look on her face. Like a thought was fighting to get through. He motioned to the bartender. He quickly gave a shot and he was able to slip the powder in as she fought with her thoughts.
"Drink this, and enjoy it like a good girl" She took a shot that had the same shimmer as her drink. She slowly took it to her lips making a show of staring him down. She tilted the shot glass in her lips and moaned like it was the best thing she ever tasted. She started licking every drop from the shot glass.
“You really love being controlled, don’t you pretty witch?” the words should have triggered her but she just giggled and stroked his arm. "It is super fun. I want to be a good little witch for you."
“Obedience powder. It’s so great, isn’t it?” He held a glittering powder in a bag in front of her face. It was so pretty. And it made her listen to master. She loved being controlled, there was something so sexy about.
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A cheerful hymn
"Jareth X reader who sings under her breath while working or out loud if she thinks she’s alone, and Jareth hearing her for the first time"
I'm making this one gender neutral just so everyone can read!! Also Y/N is a writer hehe
~~
I sat alone in my room tapping my pencil on my desk trying to come up with a good concept for my next novella. I write these small books for the goblins, as I'm quite fond of them and they need a break or two every now and then to do things on their own. But now, I've hit a wall in my mind. I just can't seem to create a solid plot anymore. I started to hum a small tune out of boredom just to fill the silence. It slowly turned into a little song after a while. I sang quietly, under my breath so Jareth couldn't hear from his throne room. I was embarrassed of my voice. His was so gorgeous I didn't want him to judge me.
"Y/N?" Jareth said as he walked into my room. I was startled because I was rather lost in thought when he suddenly walked in. Luckily I stopped singing before he could hear.
"Sorry, uh... You startled me a little, what is it, honey?" I asked.
"I just wanted to come in and say hi. You look tired, need a break?" He replied. God, he was so sweet.
Looking back at my blank paper I've been staring at for the past hour, I decided he was right.
"I suppose I do need a break. I'm not getting any writing done." I sigh as I get up out of my chair and take Jareth's cold and slender hand.
-- time skip --
I whistled as I organized all of my pens and pencils which were skattered across my pale white desk. Jareth was out running errands so it was just me in our castle. As I cleared my desk, I started to sing a little tune I had written for one of my books. It was a cheerful little hymn and I sung it louder and louder without even noticing.
I continued singing when I heard a soft knock on the door. I abruptly stopped and opened the door. It was Jareth.
"I heard you singing." He purred. He flashed you a smile before hugging you closely.
"Oh, lord I'm sorry you had to hear that... I'm certain I was off key or something." You blushed.
Jareth broke the hug briefly and held your shoulders, looking you right in the eyes. "Now what do you mean? That was a stunning little song you were singing. Why don't you ever share your talents with me?"
"Well, you know, your voice is just so beautiful and well, compared to yo-"
He shushed you.
"Don't talk like that, star. Your singing voice is just as magical as mine. I would love to sing with you. Whenever you like. Now, don't be shy, finish your number."
~~
The end!!
Please give me more requests I'd love to answer them 🩷🩷
#david bowie#david bowie x reader#jareth#jareth the goblin king#jareth x reader#jareth the goblin king x reader
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Imagine: Sam forcing you to go to bed
Okay. So you'd gotten a little obsessive. And, sure, that tunnel vision drive had robbed you of a real night sleep for three days straight, resulting in unplanned naps at an hour intervals at most, adding up to two whole hours. But was it really fair that your body demanded sleep when Sam and Dean habitually did the same thing? And that's how you got to day four, hallucinating every time you looked at something too bright or too dark.
"Y/n…?" Sam called out softly after coming into the room to see you staring blankly at your hand. "You alright?"
"Huh?" You could barely pay attention to him, much less summon the mental stamina to craft a proper response.
Sam hesitated. "I asked if you were alright…"
"Uh huh."
Sam glanced back, wondering if he should call for Dean, then decided to approach you first instead. "What's going on?"
"This spot on my wrist."
"Spot?" Sam blinked in surprise when you clumsily shoved your hand in his face. He gently took it wrist. "I see it. What about it?"
"It's a spider."
Sam's brows knitted. "What?"
"All spots are spiders."
"Uh…"
"Spider. Spider. Spider." You repeated, poking the visible moles on his skin. "It goes away when you touch it. Then reappears!"
"Are you high or something?"
"Let me take off your shirt." You didn't wait for permission, sliding your hands up his hard abs. You would have enjoyed it more if your brain didn't feel encased in cotton, but as a solid to your future self, you made sure to indulge in the experience.
"Why the hell are you taking off my shirt?" Sam's voice cracked as he startled back, hands wavering in the air, unsure of what to do.
"You have the cutest mole right… here." You caressed the curve of his neck.
Sam's breath hitched and his throat worked as he struggled to reply. "You didn't need to take my shirt off to see it- Y/n!"
You opportunistically slipped under his shirt, kissing the spot. "God, I've always wanted to do that."
"Have you been drinking?" Sam jumped back when your hand dipped under his jeans. "Jesus, Y/n! What the hell?"
You blinked at him, mind blanking.
"Y/n?" Sam stepped forward cautiously when you didn't respond. "When was the last time you slept?"
"Yesterday maybe?" You felt yourself swaying, but it didn't feel dangerous even when Sam jerked forward to keep you upright.
"For how long?"
"I don't know math." You scowled indignantly. "How dare you, Winchester? -Like twenty minutes or something."
Sam sighed. "How long has it been since the last time you really slept?"
"Um…" You closed your eyes to think and the swaying got worse. "Anyways. Take off your pants."
"What? No." Sam frowned. "Try to concentrate for a second."
"How can I supposed to do that?" You whined shamelessly. "Real Y/n wants to see the goods!"
Sam flushed and it took clearing his throat twice to find his voice. "Real Y/n?"
You nodded. "Awake Y/n. Not sleepy Y/n." You grabbed his waistband. "There's a pot going on amongst hunters about how hung you are. I'll keep it a secret if you do, but shouldn't I know since we're friends? You can't keep secrets from your friends."
"Okay. Bedtime for you." Sam threw you over his shoulder when your fingers started to graze downward.
"I'm not sleepy." You pouted. "My brain is too awake."
"I'll give you warm milk or something. Just get into the bed and stop touching me." Sam's voice was hard.
You stopped sliding your hands over the lines of his back muscles sulkily. "You're so bossy. Isn't it your fault that you're so damn fine? Take some responsibility! Coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel on…"
"I didn't know you were there!"
"That doesn't make me not want to lick every damn drop of water off of you." You suddenly became cheerful. "Stay hydrated everyone."
"Please stop talking." Sam swallowed hard.
"I'll show you yours, if you show me mine." You offered.
"That's not-" Sam broke off with a sigh, then pushed open your bedroom door and set you down. "Get some sleep." He sighed again when you stared at him in blank confusion. "Sleep, Y/n. Please?"
"I forgot how the bed works."
"You forgot…" Sam covered his eyes with his hands, scrubbing his face hard. "Go lay down."
You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, then toppled inelegantly on the mattress. Sam's face fell. Begrudgingly, he scooped you up and laid you further back on the blankets. He rolled you up tightly in an impromptu swaddle before you could do anything else.
"I'm a burrito. Eat me."
"Go to sleep, Y/n."
"But you and Dean stay up all the time." Your face crumpled with a wave of sorrow.
Sam softened. "You aren't us."
"But you won't want me anymore."
Sam's lips thinned with an empathetic smile. "We can talk about this later."
"You've got a cute mole by your nose too."
Sam turned off the light, but didn't leave. A moment later, you felt him sit next to you. "I never had anyone try to help me fall asleep, so I'm not really sure how to help you, but… I saw this in a movie once. A mom putting down her kid…"
You relaxed instantly as his fingers brushed back your hair in long, gentle strokes. Sam smiled at your satisfied hums.
"Good night, Y/n." Sam said softly when your breathing slowed.
#supernatural#sam winchester#supernatural fanfiction#sam#spn sam winchester#spn#spnfandom#supernatural sam winchester#supernatural series#supernatural fluff#sam fluff#sam winchester fanfiction#sam fanfiction#san fanfic#sam winchester fluff#sam imagines#sam winchester imagine#supernatural imagines#supernatural y/n#sam x you#Sam Winchester x you#sam x reader#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x reader
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23
"They haven't... breathed in six hours," the lieutenant whispered earnestly.
The captain raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I follow."
"I'm serious," they hissed back. "They aren't breathing. It's freaking me out. Please talk to them about it?"
They stared at the lieutenant for a few more moments, mostly trying to understand the bizarre request. At last they agreed, and the lieutenant left their office looking slightly less perturbed than when they'd entered a few moments before. The door had barely swung shut when the alien breezed into the room, looking... oddly translucent.
The captain stifled a confused cough and sat up straight. "So," they began, shaking off the eerie feeling of the alien's eyes on him. They struggled with this species; something about the shallow placement of their eyes made for off-putting eye contact. "One of our crewmates has informed me that you have stopped breathing and they are concerned for you." When the alien made no attempt to reply, the captain reluctantly continued. "Would you care to tell me why that is?"
The alien blinked with an audible smack of their eyelids. "Why is neglecting to breathe a point of concern?"
The captain didn't see that one coming. "Uh, what?"
"Why does my crew want me to breathe?"
"Breathing is important," the captain responded, utterly perplexed by this situation. "We are concerned you are trying to harm yourself by not breathing. Already you look... thinner?"
"Hum. Does it hurt you if you don't breathe?" the alien asked. They seemed to be thinking.
"Yes, of course it does," the captain said. "Does it not hurt you?"
"Not at all. It is natural."
"It's natural not to breathe?"
"Yes."
The captain remembered the labored sounds the alien usually made while breathing. It had not been long since they'd joined their crew, but they always exhaled with a great sigh as if they were clearing their throat every second. "Then why do you breathe sometimes?"
Now the captain was even more confused. "What does that mean?"
"To stay solid."
"I wished to sublime. It will be easier to access the caverns when we arrive tomorrow. I will deposit again once we are inside."
"You... what?"
"We are on a reconnaissance mission, correct?"
"Well yes, but—"
"And the embassy requires we destroy as little of the natural landscape as possible?"
The captain was starting to understand, they thought. "Yes..."
"Then my gaseous state will prove most efficient in this situation. The caverns are mostly sealed, as you know. I will fit through smaller spaces than I could in my solid state."
"... I see..."
"Is there still a problem, sir?" the alien asked.
"I—" The captain paused, shook their head to think. "No, there's no problem. Just... nothing I've seen before."
"Hum."
"Do, uh, let me know the next time you decide to sublime, though. Many of your crewmembers have no experience with your species and did not understand why you stopped breathing."
"I see," the alien responded. "Perhaps I may assemble a presentation on biophysical sciences?"
"For... what?"
"My crewmembers, to understand sublimation and the biological process of expelling heat. I will organize it for our 1800 debrief."
"...Sure. That's fine." The captain waved a weary hand to dismiss the alien, who walked out the door with a faint cloud trailing behind them. They let out a sigh and turned back to their paperwork, certain their hair would be turning grey after that conversation.
#what are you going to do with a degree in physical chemistry with a premedical focus#uhhh write fiction?? duh?#writing#fiction#snippet#writeblr#alien#space fic#outer space#fantasy#sci fi#my writing
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☀︎ 𝐣𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐞 | 𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 + 𝐬𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞
❥︎ - ; x ɢɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
❥︎ - 𝐭𝐰 : ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ; ᴛʜᴏ ᴏꜰᴄ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏʟɪɴᴇ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟɪʟ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴏᴏᴄ ʜᴇʀᴇ- :")
❥︎ - 𝐚/𝐧 : ᴏᴋᴀʏ ꜱᴏᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ɪ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇ-- ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴏ ʏᴇᴘ ɪᴛ'ꜱ qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ,, ヾ(･|
☾︎ - 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.
-✰-
It was night time in the current present time, and most of the other dragoons are already resting up in their respective camps from the events of the day; even more so from their daily training duties.
That is at least, for most of them, except for you, Dion and Terence being fully awake still despite the quite late hours of midnight.
So you were like, chilling on one of the chairs nearby inside of the spacious camp area that only you three have shared. Dion was reading some sort of an old book that he owned for some time now, and Terence was working away on something at the moment. Neither of you seemed to be paying much attention to one another, and simply just basking in the peacefulness of the present moment.
Though, the silence is broken when you decided to speak up, stretching your body a bit as you stand. "I think I'm going to the lake for a while. It's getting a little hot in here."
Your statement made Terence stop instantly at what he's doing, shooting you a sidelong glance, while Dion just continues at what he's reading for a bit more.
"You shouldn't go alone." The crown prince finally gave his answer at last, closing the book. His voice seemed lower than usual.
"And why is that? I can defend myself well, there shouldn't be a problem." Dion just sent you a flat look.
"If it was with anyone else, I might be inclined to agree, but you have an unfortunate tendency to let your.. 'natural charms' allow anyone within a twelve foot radius to take advantage of you."
You were absolutely perplexed by his remarks and the level of specificity that he had clarified as you stared at him for a few solid minutes.
Terence has his face covered with his hands right at this moment, trying to keep himself from breaking into fits of laughter even further. Your current expression doesn't help either.
"What does that supposed to mean.."
"Dare I say that you're a natural-born flirt." Dion says calmly, raising a brow at you. "Look, I suppose it's your natural style, if you get what I mean. Even when you're not trying, for Greagor's sake."
Did he drank any wine earlier or-- your brain can't even function properly at this point, and you're still unsure if it's because of the lack of sleep you're getting or something else.
It took you some time, before widening your eyes slightly as realization dawned upon you.
"Oh-- OHH I GET IT NOW!" You snapped your fingers with some attitude, placing one of your hands on your hip after.
"You're just jealous." His eyebrows twitch at your comment.
"First off, yes, but it's more out of a sense of duty to protect from whatever might happen." The blonde-haired male sighs, rubbing his temple with his hand. "And second, I'm your prince-- your superior, and it's my duty. You're not allowed to give me that attitude."
You once more gave Dion a bewildered look, which led Terence to finally burst into laughter at the banter he had been witnessing. He was obviously enjoying it and would have eaten some popcorn if he could.
"Oh, shut it. You're not the only prince that I've known." You retorted back, crossing your arms with a huff. "The last time I checked, I'm allowed to do whatever I wanted."
"Oh, is that so?" Dion has his eyes on you with a knowing look, tilting his head a little. Perhaps, he was actually enjoying this.
"Then prove it. Come here."
"No." You shook your head stubbornly, sparing a quick glance at Terence, who was clearly still entertained by the whole situation unfolding in front of him. "Hey, a little backup here, Terry?"
Dion immediately spoke before Terence could give his answer, "No backup allowed." He then puts his hands on the table nearby him, sighing slightly; earning an eye-roll from you.
"Oh, for Greagor's sake-- I just wanted to go to the lake!"
But just then, a sudden thought passes by your mind, causing a smug grin to form upon your features.
"Terence will accompany me then if you won't!"
At this point, Dion doesn't even feel upset as he slowly shifts his gaze to you-- rather finding the whole argument amusing as well as pointless.
Perhaps, he was trying to mess with you after all.
Moments like this-- no matter how insignificant they may seem; it made him appreciate his life even more. Especially when seeing Terence and you being with him almost as often as needed.
"I suppose he's rather busy right now."
"But I'm having some spare time, my prince." Terence added to Dion's words and sent you a rather cheeky smile; to which you responded with one of your own.
"HAHA SEE?! HE IS WITH ME!" You exclaimed as if to prove your point at the crown prince, to which he clearly raises his hands in surrender.
But then a light chuckle escaped from his lips. Perhaps, his duties can get a little easier with you two around and to support him in any way you can.
Right? Nothing could possibly go wrong with you two, standing by his side.
𝐞𝐧𝐝.
-✰-
© 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚜.
#ffxvi spoilers#ff16 spoilers#ffxvi#final fantasy xvi#ff16#final fantasy 16#dion lesage#terence#dion lesage x reader#dion lesage x you#fanfic#oneshot#aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖
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Hello! Could I request an angst with Kit Walker taking the blame for fem reader inside the asylum and being punished in her place? Thank you!
WHATEVER YOU WANT MAMA! Thank you for the request!! hope this is okay! i haven't written for evan in like three years. here is:
Rotten Apple (Kit Walker)
summary: Y/N begins to feel couped up and restless in the asylum and convinces Kit to attempt an escape but fail miserably.
Warnings: abuse, mentions of murder, angst,
"i cant do this shit anymore." y/n whisper yelled as she rubbed her face. kit giggled, glancing over at her from the sink. "what's eating at you today?" he asked her as he rinsed off the last few dishes. she thought for a moment. "everything.. the gross food, the unnecessary meds, the abuse, the annoying music, the clothes.." she answered, almost in tears. "I just want to go home." she said, standing up of the ground and hugging kit and laying her head on his back.
-
hours later Y/N and Kit could be seen sitting in the corner of the common room watching as everyone else bugged about, dancing to the one song on repeat or staring at nothing. "how many of the people in here do you think deserve to be in care?" she asked him, not daring to peel her eyes away. "no one. half of them have probably just been hit so hard their brains are mush." he said, scooting closer to her. She inconspicuously placed her hand on his, out of sight of the rest of the room.
"lets leave.." she told him. "what?" he was in disbelief. the many times he'd tried to leave in the passed and gotten caught, he was too scared to do it now. "yeah lets make a solid plan and just leave.. maybe we could come back and shut the place down." she was hopeful. but kit knew the possibility of getting away was so unlikely and the punishment for getting caught would be horrid this time around.. but he didn't want to just stop trying. he and everyone else in there knew he wasn't supposed to be locked up. and the question of what he would do when he got out made his skin feel like pins and needles but he agreed anyway.
He and Y/N put their heads together to plan an escape. they had the time, exit and distraction all in line.. but something was missing. they couldn't put their finger on it. "if we're not remembering it must not be important." Y/N said, making her first mistake.
sister jude plugged in the movie and left the room. Kit looked at her and nodded as he caught the door before it closed. once they both quietly followed her out Y/N turned the corner and searched for the tunnels. "Mr.Walker! Get back here!" sister Jude called after him at which point Y/N latched onto his hand and pulled him through the door. The lock on the tunnel door was secure this time causing them to look at each other with tears on their eyes. "I'm sorry." she said. "for what?" he asked, he took a deep breath. "I got overzealous." she said, slumping over on the ground. kit then had an idea. he stood her up and got behind her, holding broken glass to her throat. "kit? what- what are you doing?" she asked him. "just go with it." he whispered.
"ah walker and Y/N.. I'm not surprised. I've seen you both hanging out a whole lot. it seems walkers decided to take you prisoner. little girl thought a cold-blooded murderer was on her side." she laughed, causing Y/N to tear up. "let me out. I'll run and never come back." he said, knowing it wouldn't work but he wanted the attention to be off Y/N. two big guards walked in and detained both kit and Y/N. their grip being tighter on kit. "I'll give it to you, mr.walker.. you've got gumption but you need to understand you wont be leaving any time soon. taking another patient prisoner is not gonna do you any good." jude said and suddenly Y/N knew what he'd done. kit was taking the blame and made it look like he was holding me to escape.
jude dragged kit to her office and showed him her whips. "kinky huh sister?" he teased. he knew he needed to keep the blame and attention on him so he antagonized her. "you need to pray for forgiveness, walker. and maybe so does Y/N but for different reasons I'm sure. shes lost but you've run. you turned your back it seems. and its time to take what you deserve. sister jude bent him over and pulled down his pants to whip the synthetic leather to kits skin making him whimper in pain, gripping the desk, afraid that this time he'd be left with scars serving as reminders of his time in the hospital.
Y/N listened from outside the room, muffling her cries with her hand stuffed over her face. she had regret the idea, she had too much hope and look where it got kit. of course all she could do was blame herself as she listened to kits whines of pain.
"squirming will only make it worse." Jude let out through gritted teeth. She had enough of kit. she knew that if she could kill him she would but those thoughts alone scared her and had her knelt at the pews for hours longer than anyone else, her head dipped down as she prayed but it wasn't enough. and she let herself go as she took it all out on kits frail and pale body. "rotten apples deserve to be punished."
soon she stopped, realizing she'd gone too far. kit was slumped over on the ground hugging himself. Jude cleaned up and stepped out of the room, completely overlooking Y/N behind the door. she ran in when the coast was clear and she sat and pulled him onto her lap. "I'm sorry. you're going to be okay, kit. I'll never let them hurt you again." she promised him as she rubbed his head and whispered into his ear. "it's okay. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Y/N I love you." he let out causing her to fully sob. "no one has loved me this much." she giggled through her tears, running her fingers through his hair. "I love you too Kit. you're gonna make it out of here if it's the last thing I do." she told him and they sat there until they could muster up the strength to stand and go to their own rooms. knowing they would come up with a better thought-out plan the next time they decided to try and leave the asylum behind.
A/N: HIII i hope this was okay! i also hope its not too long!! i tried my best to keep it at a reasonable length. also like i said i havent written evan/ahs content in years nor have i watched asylum in a while so sorry if i messed up any show specific/ cannon details.
#request#ahs request#fic requests#evan peters x reader#requests#fanfic#i ❤️ him#dating#ahs asylum#kit walker#angst#kit walker angst#masterlist#evan peters fandom#evan peters
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Sleep - Tim Drake x reader
Tim and y/n are sleep deprived mfs
I finally left my room after hours of editing my essay to perfection. I looked at myself in the mirror, jeez I need to take care of myself. After staring at shit for a hot minute, I fixed my posture, brushed my hair and washed my face to refresh myself.
I miss my boyfriend so I drove over to the mansion. Yes, it might be a little late into the night but I'm sure Tim is in a crappy physical or mental state right now. I knock on the door and was met with the best butler to ever exist across all universes.
"Miss Y/n, it's a pleasure to see you this evening, you're here for Master Tim, yes?"
"Yes that's right, it's good to see you too." I make a lame attempt to smile, trying to defy my tiredness, at Alfred and he let me by.
"Master Tim is in his bedroom," I briefly thanked him and make my way to Tim's room.
"Tim?" Knock knock "Baby?"
A muffled sentence managed to make its way through the door. I took that as a sign to enter. The door opened effortlessly when I've only turned the doorknob.
"Tim?" I saw a small tuff of his hair just over the chair he sat on. Gamer boy. He has several illuminating monitors, they were the only thing lighting the room.
"Hey baby," his late response didn't even feel like it was directed to me. I proceeded to walk next to him. I turned around and leaned against his desk, my face facing his.
"You look like hell,"
"Yeah?" He spared me a glance, "I just got back."
I crossed my arms, "I assume 'I-just-got-back' was several hours ago." His pupil twitched to the bottom of the screen to check the time.
"Shhit"
"Ya shit, come on, let's go to bed,"
He opened his mouth to protest, "I'm almost-"
"Liar, you take another hour to finish up with work,"
He grumbled like the baby he is. He didn't say anything, soon after there were a few more clicks and taps from the keyboard and mouse.
He pushed away from his desk and turned to me, "happy?"
"Very," I smiled to him and gave him a peck on his forehead. "Thank you baby~."
"Ya ya, don't blame me if there's a war I could've prevented." I can't tell if he was kidding. I gave him another kiss.
He's got really dark eyebags, his eyelids are getting red too. Beneath the red and the black, he's got fair, pretty skin. He's so handsome, very pretty-. Well he hasn't been out in the sun for a solid 24 hours. Touch some grass dumbass.
I completely forgot that I was staring at him. "Y/n?" Oh he said my name.
"Yes?" I stared for too long.
"Quit staring, I'm going to the bathroom, we can watch a movie if you want?" He's so cute omfg-
"Of course!" I quickly kissed him and went to the kitchen.
After he washed up and I grabbed some snacks, we sat down on his bed to watch a movie. We sat there for 20 minutes deciding what movie to watch.
Kidding.
We decided to have a Matrix marathon. We watched it plenty of times, we both know the goal is to sleep. But why sleep when I can look at his pretty face.
No, no, I need sleep.
Tim glanced at me, "You're staring again. What's with you? Take a picture already." He smiled nervously. He's probably wondering if there's something on his face.
"Nothing, I just love you. You're an idiot for not sleeping."
He looked at me weirdly, "What does that mean!? You can't say shit about sleep either."
It wasn't long before we ended cuddling in the couch, legs intertwined. Tim's warm breath settled on my skin. It was so calming, I didn't realize I feel asleep with him.
-Jason's pov
Tim hasn't shown his face in the past 10 hours. That's not a problem, but he normally comes out of his room at this time.
'Watch him be dead in his chair.' I mentally groaned. It's time for him to touch grass. I walked to his room and saw an odd lump close to his chest. Upon further inspection, it's clearly y/n huddled against his chest, and the 3rd movie of the matrix was playing. I grinned to myself.
Get it ig🤷♀️.
I took my time taking photos, making sure they looked good. I can't wait to show it to everyone.
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Sugar
Natalie Berzatto x Pete, angst and fluff, pre-canon, 1.8k
for @drabbles-mc
After Pete’s first Berzatto Christmas, Natalie sleeps badly all night long, getting up to use the bathroom, pulling covers on or off, batting away half-remembered dreams.
Pete's on his phone for hours into the night, which is unusual for him. Usually she gets to stare at him, just something to do while she can't sleep, but tonight he hides with his phone under the covers so the light won't bother her, and as a result, he's become a soft glow and a lump in the bed, hardly a person to look at. At some point the outside world lightens, the birds start singing, and she's so tired she goes into the sleep of the dead and stays there, solid, until the light is pouring in cloud-whitened but strong through the curtains.
Opening her eyes, she sees the ceiling is white too, and perfect. She pulls the covers up over her shoulders a little more and looks over. Pete's gone. That was pretty much what she expected.
She looks back up at the ceiling and waits for it to hit.
It doesn't.
Okay, she thinks calmly. Weird. She's just lost the best boyfriend she ever had in her life, a goofy guy who loves her like it's his job and his hobby and his life's purpose all rolled into one, and she doesn't feel anything about it. She probes at it like the spot where a tooth got knocked out, tongue to tender gum, and decides that maybe she's run out of emotions. She used them all up yesterday and now they're out of stock.
That's good, she thinks. She can work with that.
She sits up. Across from her, hanging on the wall, is a large red and yellow painting of flowers that they bought together at an art festival. She didn't expect him to agree on it—there's a violence to the colors despite the subject matter, and the style is disjointed, borderline abstract—but he goes along to get along, Pete does, and that peace is so peaceful that she's never really wanted to question it. Don't chew your fingernails, Bear, you're not five anymore.
Pete actually peeks through the door, like a kid trying to get away with something. Then he sees her, and sticks his whole head in. He needs a haircut, she notices absently.
"Hey," he says, a little rueful. "Are you awake? Darn."
Pete is the only man left alive who still says darn unironically, and he's wearing a powder blue sweater vest over a collared shirt in his own apartment on a holiday, and Natalie really would have married him.
"Yeah," she says carefully. "I'm awake." If she stays very still, maybe her insides won't get jostled. Maybe they'll stay asleep, and she'll keep on feeling nothing.
"I see." He comes to stand in the doorway, no more comedy to him, and says, a touch nervously, "So, I've been thinking."
"Yeah, it's okay, Pete," she cuts in. She didn't drink much, but she still got a Christmas hangover. "It's okay."
He smiles, brow furrow, all puzzled. "But how—"
"It's okay, okay?" Her heartbeat is starting to get faster, and that odd thing in her stomach might be nausea. "It's okay, Pete. Just. Just go ahead."
She smiles, which is the worst moment to start feeling, and of so course it's the moment the hurt hits her in the chest.
"Okay," he says, a little befuddled still, but relieved. He leaves. There's some sounds from the kitchen. He's packing up.
.
.
.
Five minutes later, he's back, bearing a tray that he sets down on her bedside table very carefully. Then he sits down beside her, pointing, proud.
"So that's fruit juice, morning mix of orange, pineapple, and a little bit of lemon. That's cinnamon sugar toast with loads of butter. I put it in the toaster oven so it would get all, like, caramelized? And that—" Pete pauses. He clearly cannot think of any ingredient or process details that he can elaborate on. "—That's scrambled eggs," he says. He looks to her, hopeful, but all she can do is look at him, then back at the food.
It occurs to her that Pete is quite possibly not breaking up with her after all.
"Oh, are you allergic to pineapples?" he says, apologetic already.
"No," Nat says slowly. He wouldn't make her breakfast to break up with her, right? Because breakfast is kind, but breakfast in bed right before a breakup, that's deranged. "I'm just—" But isn't everyone deranged? "—I'm just wondering, what made you think of cooking today?"
"Well, I read that book Carmy was talking about," he says, and it's the earnestness that gets to her, the excitement. He's got a spiel all ready, he's ready to dive in.
"Yeah?" she says, a new smile breaking across her face.
“Yeah," he says, even more excited than before, smiling now because she's smiling, and that's it. She launches herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, holds tight. He holds her like he knows what he's doing, all big enveloping warmth, right hand rubbing her back. He doesn't question it.
“How’d you get it so fast?” she says, half-into his neck.
“Oh, I downloaded the Libby app ages ago. You know, it's like the best of both worlds. You get to support the library, but at the same time it's on your phone, so you don't have to worry about losing a physical copy, and—"
Nat's laughing now, so Pete turns his head a little and kisses her. Aims for her forehead, misses, gets all hair. Kisses her again anyways.
"You okay?" he says.
"Oh, I'm just all weird after last night," she says, peeling herself away a little, wiping her hair and tears out of her eyes in one quick movement. "So what did the book say?"
She knows, from the way he pulls one of the blankets up and around her, that he's caught the tears. But he just puts his arms around her little cocoon and keeps going.
"It's really interesting, actually. A little dense, but not academic. Kind of what you'd expect from Carmy?" He thinks on that for a second, then keeps going. "I couldn't stop thinking about this one part, which was less about cooking and more like this essay on personal history, and how sometimes, if there's something you really can't escape, like a thought or a memory or a person or a place, instead of trying to run away from it, you're better off trying to change the context. And there was a bunch of psychology stuff in there, but I'm not sure I really got all of that. Basically, though, it's about changing associations. Or adding associations."
His left arm still loosely draped around her, he reaches out, all six foot one inches of him straining, and manages to pick up the plate with the buttered cinnamon sugar toast on it. He holds it right under her nose, and she inhales. Her mouth waters.
"So," he says. "Sugar."
Nat gets it immediately.
"Sugar," she says, poking one of her hands out of her blanket cocoon to retrieve a slice.
"Sugar," he repeats, and then he sort of arranges himself against the headboard to be that much more convenient a human recliner, takes his own toast, and crunches away. "I'll run laundry today," he says, as if to pre-empt any comments about crumbs, though she wasn't gonna make them.
The toast is crunchy and decadent, with a surprising little edge of salt mixed in with all the sweetness, and Nat melts into his chest. It's a good silence, a long one, long enough to let all the residual doubts drain away.
.
.
.
Shortly after all the toast is gone, Pete's about to go for the eggs, and she intervenes. She kisses him.
The eggs end up going cold. The sweater vest ends up on the floor.
.
.
.
Some time later, right back where they were, though they're naked this time and sharing the blanket. Nat's staring at the painting again.
"We should get rid of that, right?" she says. "We should get something else. I don't know what I was thinking. It's not very you."
"No, I love it."
She looks up at him. He really is so funny, her man. "No, you don't."
"No, but I love the way you love it. Of all the paintings at the fair, this is the one that you stood and stared at the most. And I remember, you didn't even want to talk to the artist cause you wanted to stare at it for longer. You're so smart," he says, like that's not a non sequitur.
She can't help herself. "But you don't love it."
Pete looks from the painted poppies to Nat.
"I love you," he says. "That's, like, the same thing, right? Kind of like the transitive property in geometry."
Her forehead furrows for a second, and she just keeps looking at him. After a while, she finally says, a little slowly, like she's made a discovery, "My brothers think you're stupid."
"Yeah," he says, with the placid acceptance provided to him as a proprietor of two diplomas, a Chicago Stock Exchange salary, and childhood principally featuring a golden retriever named Noodles.
"Yeah," says Nat. "They're stupid."
Pete only laughs. "Oh, Sugar. They're your brothers."
She tilts her head to the side.
"How was that?"
"Sugar? That was..." Natalie thinks on it, then nods. "Pretty good."
"Didn't fix it," he acknowledges.
"But it was pretty good." She settles back into the crook of his arm and lets the twin comedowns from sugar and sex wash over her, warm and sleepy. She closes her eyes. Another silence, this one even better than the last, absolutely content.
.
.
.
The punchline comes months later, when they're both waiting in the hospital to for the chance to meet Richie's little girl. She was supposed to arrive hours ago. The labor's gone badly, Nat's nerves are shot, Mikey's nowhere to be found, and Richie's pacing the hall clutching an un-smoked cigar like it's a weapon. Donna arrives.
Pete says, going loud so she can hear him over the battling sounds of her mother and the nurse, "Now we just need to figure out how to put an Are You Okay in the toaster oven."
Nat laughs so hard that her mother actually stops arguing with the nurse to turn and look at her, but before she can say anything, Mikey comes sweeping in to say it for her: "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Natalie says. "Nothing." She elbows Pete, who's already spotted it too: Richie making a beeline for the nurse with an unhinged glint in his eye. Pete heaves himself to his feet and prepares to try for an interception, while she does hers without even standing up, throws her arm around Mikey and makes him bend down for his hug.
"Always something going on with you, huh, Sugar," he says. He smells awful, but he hugs just as well as Pete does, and she kisses his bearded cheek.
"Oh yeah," she says, with the placid acceptance provided to her as the proprietor of health insurance, half an apartment, and an engagement ring hanging on a chain around her neck, keeping secret till such a time as it will not upstage Tiff's big day. "That's me."
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Killer - part 4 (TobiIzu)
izuna's torture does not end
part 3
The psychologist takes a sip of the coffee that was offered to him before starting with the questions, composed and free of anything that could prove some sort of guilt in the matter. He keeps his narrative the same from the beginning, always providing solid and irrefutable answers.
"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE HE IS??!" Madara slams his fist on the table, tangible anger in his features and deep despair in his eyes. "YOU REALLY WANT ME TO BUY SOME BULLSHIT ABOUT HIM DECIDING TO RUN AWAY?! WITHOUT ANY KIND OF PLAN?! WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!"
He intimidates the witness with every legal weapon he can use inside the interrogation room, and if he has to put his job on the line to resolve this matter, he won't hesitate to do so. This is his brother we're talking about.
"Chief Uchiha, I think I've explained it to you a few times, haven't I? I showed you my CCTV footage, the irrefutable proof that demonstrates how your brother decided to flee. You must step out of your denial and-"
"FUCKING LIES!" He grabs the psychologist by the collar of his shirt and lifts him out of his seat, but it's Shisui who stops his hand before Madara hits him. The unit head doesn't move his gaze from the man he holds, teeth exposed in an angry grimace as if he were an animal about to devour him.
"Uncle, that's enough! Let me deal with this!" The younger Uchiha exclaims, knowing that not having his superior involved in the matter is impossible, yet it doesn't help at all either. Izuna disappeared after the first session he had with Hashirama, giving no explanation or warning, not allowing them to find him.
If he genuinely left of his own free will as the psychologist describes, it makes sense not to be able to track him down. If there is something else behind all this, then this guy has a macabre mind that is hard to break.
Either way, they won't be able to figure anything out with their boss trying to beat him to death.
Madara lets go, dropping him back into the chair, and walks over to the one-way mirror with one hand on his forehead. His hair is tied back and his shirt is rolled up above each elbow, his impeccable, unblemished image disheveled, denoting stress.
"Sir... I hope you can excuse the chief's boldness, and also understand how hard and personal this is for us. Izuna's behavior has been erratic, but never to this level." Shisui calms the waters by licking his boots, trying to keep the witness from shutting down and providing information. Hashirama was the last person to see him, and who spoke with him for half an hour before Izuna vanished into thin air.
"Detective, I have given you all the resources at my disposal. My surveillance system doesn't lie, I don't have the knowledge to tamper with it. I may allow you to search my home but-"
"Of course we'll fucking do that." Madara replies while turning around, and when it seems like he wants to approach again and intimidate the psychologist, Shisui stares into the one-way mirror, making the signal he agreed with Obito prior to the interrogation to get him out of the room.
He is the boss, no one can tell him what to do, but they appeal to the rational part of his mind, the one that understands he is causing more harm than good in this situation. When Obito opens the door nothing needs to be said, and Madara himself understands he must leave, if only for a few minutes, to calm down.
"Thank you very much, detective. I do fear for my life in the face of that man's rudeness, so much unprofessionalism! I can offer him a free session if that could help..." Hashirama settles back into the chair, adopting an even more relaxed posture once the boss is out. He sips his coffee again whilst crossing his legs, one arm draped over the back of his chair as if he were at home.
"There'll be no need for that, he'll be fine once we find Izuna." A new detective replaces the chief's place, Obito stepping into the room, adjusting his coat. His face is expressionless, and the psychologist becomes uneasy at his presence.
"Let's review the events agian, gentleman." Both policemen open file folders on the table, the security camera images displayed in front of Hashirama. They show Izuna leaving his house in a normal manner, only to then start running.
It doesn't make sense.
"According to your security system, Izuna arrived at his session at about 8:30 pm. At 9 pm, half an hour before his appointment was scheduled to end, we see him leaving in a hurry. Do you affirm he did not mention anything about running away? He gave no indication of what he planned to do? He didn't say where he was going? Why did he leave early?" It is Obito who asks the questions, while Shisui takes care of watching him, looking for any gesture out of the ordinary.
They have worked on multiple cases together, discovering a successful strategy for finding the truth. Bad cop/good cop is a distant memory when it comes to this duo getting to the bottom of a crime.
Hashirama rearranges his position again, and this indicates a certain discomfort. He seemed to be on his game when Madara was firing aggressions at him, ready to answer any violent impulse, but he looks unarmed to deal with two composed individuals, like he wouldn't know how to turn the tables in his favor.
"I mean, that's a rational response your colleague had, he's been through terrible things, and qthere are no instructions on how to deal with that kind of trauma. Can you blame him? Because I don't-"
"You're not answering my question, gentleman. Did he say where he was going? Did he offer any clues that you can give us?" Obito presses again, finding flaws in the psychologist's facade.
"He was vague with his explanations and very closed towards talking, I couldn't confirm anything specific because-"
"Are you involved in this, sir?"
"Excuse me?
"Do you have anything to do with Izuna Uchiha's disappearance?"
It is the patience of both detectives that throws the psychologist off, the lack of pushy demands and unfounded accusations. Discovering what buttons to push and how to pick apart what appeared to be a faultless narrative, exposing inconsistencies in the whole situation.
The man is backed into a corner, failing to continue his speech in the same way he did in the beginning.
He speaks quickly and without pause, nervous for the first time since he arrived. "You know what, I came here with the best predisposition, I gave evidence that I should not have given without a judge's order, I lent myself to help you, and you accuse me of such an atrocity! If I am not arrested on any charge, I will proceed to retire, since how you behave, fellow detectives, is an aberration!" Hashirama stands up and arranges his clothes, tacitly asking for the door to be opened.
They can't hold him, there is no explicit evidence that would allow them to apprehend him or keep him there, unable to do anything as he storms out of the room in a rage. For Obito it is a defeat, but for Shisui is confusing, having discovered inconsistencies in the man's gestures and his story.
They both meet with the chief, who ended up observing the whole interaction from the other side of the mirror, "we have to find a way to get into his house," is all he says, without moving his eyes from the chair the psychologist occupied during the interrogation.
"We push too hard, there's no way he's going to let us in without a search warrant."
"And it's not like we can get one either, there's no grounds to pursue this man after the footage he provided."
"Uncle... what if Izuna really-"
"Don't you dare mention something like that, he would never do such a thing."
"Shisui may be right, uncle. There was clothing missing from his house, personal items, maybe he really did leave."
"He knew I had to pick him up, that I would be there at 9:30 to take him home, he wouldn't have left without me, without telling me. We don't work that way, he and I understand each other better than anyone else, he wouldn't have done this to me..."
"Uncle..." Obito begins, "We all know Izuna wasn't the same after that night, maybe he changed about you too-" A large hand closes over his neck, and Madara's eyes glare at him with hatred.
"Didn't I tell you not to mention something like that?”
"The phone analysis will be ready tomorrow. Once we have that information, we can decide whether to fight each other or not." Again, Shisui is the voice of reason and gets him to let go of his cousin before a brawl breaks out between the family. The state Madara finds himself in is like walking on eggshells, impossible to navigate without being deathly cautious of what one says.
...
His eyes feel heavy, as though he cannot open them, unable to see. He makes a terrible effort to focus his vision around him, darkness giving way to colors.
Where is he? What happened?
He feels sheets around him, a pillow under his head, his senses slowly awaken and discovering different sensations. He doesn't remember anything, but assumes he had a wonderful night if this is the condition he finds himself in in the morning. His mouth is dry, not being able toclose it, and when he manages to remember he actually has hands, brings them to his face to discover fabric.
What is this?
He blinks rapidly, trying to finally wake up his eyes, shake off the cloud of heaviness on his forehead, to get up and ignore the dizziness he feels in his head. Everything is blurry, weird, unfamiliar, and he slowly realizes he is not at home.
No, this is not his room.
"There he is, my sleeping beauty. Anija went a little overboard with the dosage, my apologies." A male voice speaks, and a shiver of involuntary terror runs through his drowsy body when aware of how familiar that sound is. He knows that tone, that ring, that person's darkness.
A choked moan of fright escapes him, and that is when he understands he is gagged.
He tries to move his legs, but two impossible-to-release shackles restrict his possibilities. The world gradually ends up appearing before his eyes, but he can't get rid of the discomfort he feels in his body and the dizziness in his head, unable to focus on anything, confused.
"Don't worry about those, if you behave, I'll eventually take them off."
He becomes aware of crying when his face burns from the salt of his tears, unable to acknowledge his body or understand what the fuck is going on. He doesn't have the strength to get up, use his hands, or run away from whatever is happening, but he knows he's in trouble.
"Now, now... Let me taste that pretty little mouth again, I've been fantasizing about it since last time."
#tobiizu#izutobi#uchiha izuna x senju tobirama#izuna uchiha x tobirama senju#senju tobirama x uchiha izuna#tobirama senju x izuna uchiha#izuna x tobirama#tobirama x izuna#uchiha izuna#izuna#izuna uchiha#senju tobirama#tobirama senju#tobirama#naruto shippuden#naruto#naruto imagines#uchiha clan#senju clan#uchiha madara#madara uchiha#madara#uchiha obito#obito uchiha#obito#uchiha shisui#shisui uchiha#shisui#senju hashirama#hashirama senju
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Heyy can you do Jinx x GN!reader but in a twist: “what are we?’’ ,please?
Take care of yourself❤️
Not enough stars
A/N: You too! Sorry for the long wait. I enjoyed this one a little too much, I've been wanting to post it for so long, and finally! Here it is! (I'll try to post more often... but I'm tired.)
Btw Is the fandom still alive?
WC: +4000 (wow a long one, enjoy!)
The lines are blurred on what Jinx and you are.
You met, hit it off, and remained together. But why were you so unsettled? Things were fine. You spend hours together and it seems that you are always looking for each other, like two magnets that eventually collide.
Despite this, you had this constant feeling of something wrong, that gnaws and eats away your insides. The uncertainty. You feel anxious, scared almost. You need to talk to her.
Jinx is your rock; she is forceful, constant, solid and you brought to her life stability, a reason to stay strong. A safe place.
You balance each other.
But lately, the world is ending, and you find that you pretend to be okay with too little. So that's why the thought of specifying had grown on you.
Given the circumstances, you won't ask her to stay. If these months mean nothing you would get it if she walked away. Even if that's the last thing you want.
☆
You approach her workbench, sitting in the chair next to her, the one that already had your name on it. The moment when she falls silent, too focused on fixing her gun engines, is when you decide that it is time.
"Jinx." "Yeaaah...?"-she says without looking at you. The barrel of the weapon keeping all her attention. -"Can I ask you something?" "MHmm..."
Noticing that you are not continuing with your speech she finally peeks at you. -"What is it?"
"What... are we?"
"Huh? What d'ya mean?"-again not looking at you.
"I don't know, are we... What are we?"
"Silly! That's easy! We're us!"
"No jinx that's not..." -"Wait no, is this a riddle?!?"
"No no..."- you can't help but feel frustrated at her usual enthusiastic manners. If you didn't know her, you'd think it was a genuine reaction. Perhaps it's better this way. -"It's nothing. Forget it."
Her look turned cold as you stand up. Staring at your frame as you walk away. Fading into the darkness until your footsteps no longer echoed in her lair.
☆
It's not that she didn't understand the question, she did, but how should she reply to that? It's not like she never questioned it before. But she's not good with feelings, damn she could barely handle her own.
You are terribly good to her. You are everything that she's not and will never be. You know what to do when her thoughts led her astray. When she's trying to evade feelings and thoughts she has no blame for.
All your caring touches and meaningful words... She can't ever get enough.
That's why she's scared. Scared of being too much. Scared to say the wrong thing and lose you forever. No. She couldn't live without you. So that's why with your simple presence Jinx was satisfied.
Maybe not.
Because she could never deny how starry-eyed you leave her.
☆
She finds you in your usual spot. The rooftop of that tall building situated in the vicinity of the highest area. There was hardly any movement in the area, practically desolated due to the high pollution of the air and nearby water. Where you can discern the contrast between both cities, that violent one that was your home under your feet and the other one that you learn to hate, so full of light and hope.
Jinx approaches in a feline manner, without making a sound. Slowly, as if she feared that you would fly away upon noticing her presence. You were looking at the waters that reflected the vast sky, except for any star, sitting on the edge of the ledge.
She stops as you stand up. You are the first one to speak.
"I'm sorry for putting pressure on you when I was the one who wanted to have this conversation. It was wrong."
"No it's ok, I just didn't want to say the opposite of what you were expecting." "I don't want to lose you."- both of you run out of air, words stuck in your throat. Not knowing where to start.
"So um, are we... " "Something?" "Yeah..."
"I mean, do you want us to be... Weren't we something all this time?"- again your uneasy breath is the only sound heard. But this time is different because the silence is now an affirmation of what you were. Are.
"Does this mean you- " "Love you and won't (ever) leave you? Yes."
She can't help but tear up at your words. Her face buried in your chest as you hug her small frame, planting a sweet peck on her temple.
Drifting your eyes to the sky, you notice that the one that once was bare now, a huge ocean of sparkly blue orbs shows. And the brightest of all were down on earth, collapsing and forming their own galaxy.
#jinx imagines#jinx x reader#jinx imagine#jinx#jinx arcane#arcane headcanons#arcane imagine#arcane imagines#arcane jinx#jinx headcanon#what are we#thank u mwah
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Value
Fandom: Obey Me!
Chapter: 3
Pairing: GN!MC x Belphegor
Summary: What is your most precious item worth?
Adult content, read at your own risk. Not beta read.
Barbatos came as Solomon asked. The only thing he brought with him was a red envelope with your name in Diavolos scrawl, written in gold.
"Mc is in the library. They nodded off for an hour or so, woke up in a panic." The sorcerer sighed, "Just be extra careful with Mc, their a bit jumpy." He walked past Barbatos and lead the butler to a drawing room. Knocking loudly, he entered.
Barbatos saw you flinch. Making eye contact with you, he gave a smile and a small bow. "Hello, Mc. It has been a while. I'm glad to see you working so hard. I've come to speak on the academies behalf."
This was it. This was Diavolo finally deciding you wouldn't be a good fit for the program... A notice of release filled with misery.
They too knew how useless you truly were....
Barbatos watched you sign to Solomon. Another thing you had learned once reaching the human realm. You would be casting with your hands, learning how to sign would only help.
"I'm glad you picked up another langue. It is a very under appreciated one." He smiled.
Of fucking course Barbatos knew sign language, why the fuck wouldn't he? You sighed as you stood, reaching out for the envelope. You had already accepted you fate.
"On behalf of the academy, I would like to offer you an invitation to R.A.D., only this time, we truly wish you accept, rather than just taking you." He smiled. "We've made adjustments and even have a few offers, as to ensure a former students return." He handed over the envelope. "Speaking outside of the academy, I would like to see you return, even the young master. He will never admit it, keep it professional, but he does miss his human friend."
Sitting back at your desk, you stared at the envelope. Just a moment ago you were worried it would be rejection...so you should take it. It meant showing everyone in person you were useless though...
Holding your hand up, you stared at the envelope. 'You'll kick me out once you see how useless I am.' You put your arm down. Barbatos had seen what you singed. You could feel his eyes on you.
"Even if you never cast again, we would still keep you. You've worked hard at potions and ritual symbols, crafts that don't get much attention. Anyone who can make solid potions and draw ritual symbols we would be glad to have in our academy. Even now, while flustered, you've managed to draw a perfect circle completely free hand."
Staring down at your paper next to your envolope your eyes followed the circle.
"Not only that, but some of the ritual symbols require fine detail. I'm told by Solomon you excel." The butler moved forward to look at what you had hanging above your desk. "This one." He pointed to the page farthest left. "You may be concerned with casting, but this symbol is perfectly done. A few milliliters of blood would activate it. I know it would with adjustment." Looking over his shoulder to find Solomons eyes. "May I take Mc to the backyard and decimate your large oak tree?"
"Have a blast. Just don't do anything too explosive. This is the human realm.
"Of course." He turned and gave a bow after retrieving a different paper from your desk. "Mc, could you come with me?"
It wouldn't work. You had tried. You had bleed all over countless papers trying to activate them, but with no verbal component, it was just bloody paper and failure. 'Feel free to take the envelope with you when you leave.'
You had followed him to the oak tree. Solomon hung back by the back entrance as to give the two of you space.
"This is a symbol for plant regrowth. However, what many people fail to realize is that the symbol is not a be all, end all. It needs direction. For example, as this symbol is now, if this tree were burnt, it would not work. No amount of blood or verbal component would do what was needed unless this small detail here were adjusted." He pointed to a small delicate symbol in the top right of one of the many circles. "If the tree were just simply wilting, it would work." Moving his finger to the top left, he pointed to another symbol. "Some of the smaller details here, if you were to do things that fell to an oak tree, would also help. It has everything it needs to do the job, but it has no guidance. Providing such will help. Do you know any symbols that you could replace were I've shown? If not, it is simply a matter of memory. The royal library has books upon books on the subject and even a small symbol guides and dictionary. If you were to return, I would like to permanently lend a special version to you until the day you have it memorized." He drew a small book from seemingly nowhere and held it out. "Symbols for burn restoration and even symbols for specific plant life are within the pages. I wish you to use it to redraw the ritual symbols as I have pointed out."
All you did was stare. It wouldn't help. You tried countless times...
"If not for yourself, than for Solomon." He smiled as the tree caught flame. A raging inferno that lasted no more than three seconds and was completely extinguished after. "He is rather fond of this tree." The butler smiled.
'You've killed it for nothing.'
"Perhaps, but one will not know until we try." He made sure to place the book in your hand, careful as not to make any contact with you. Your fingers gripped the book as he let go. Watching you move inside, he stayed by the tree. Solomon came to join him after he whispered assurances as you passed.
"You'll truly let Mc have free reign of such a tome?" Solomon looked to Barbatos with a smirk. "I asked Diavolo personally to simply look at it and was denied."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. He will even allow you to borrow it from Mc, if Mc allows it."
"Ever the fairness." Solomon quipped sarcastically. "I guess I should be thankful I was considered at all though, I know Diavolo just wishes to protect his kingdom, but it is not as if I lose things, or Mc for that matter." The sorcerer let out a sigh. "You realize if this backfires, Mc may never return?"
"Yes, but Mc has always worked hard. While they may not be passionate about potions and symbols, the talent can not be denied. I hope with time and guidance, they will come to enjoy it. I know you focus more on casting and potions, hence your need for the tome I handed Mc, but I would personally make myself available to tutor Mc on symbols."
"I may have to sit in on that. Lord knows I need the help."
"If Mc is comfortable with it, I will allow it. Having someone to learn and practice with could very well help."
About twenty minutes later, you made your return, handing the paper and book to Barbatos. Looking it over the butler smiled as he handed the paper back. Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved what looked like a pen. "I believe this may aid you as well, some symbols require exact amounts of blood. Simply click this button. One click is on milliliter of blood. Simply click more to up the count. This button will rest the count." He demonstrated. "This will extend the tip." He clicked the top. "It is a very fine point, sharpened to easily break skin. It will automatically draw the required amount of blood in. Simply hit the release button, and it will eject the blood. You can also use the tip to write, though it can be tricky. It will take some learning, but stronger sigils and symbols require to be written in blood. As you remove the 'pen' from the wound you create, it will heal." Barbatos set the pen to take one milliliter of blood. Placing it to his skin on his wrist, he clicked the pen top, you could see the pen fill with a small amount of blood. Removing it, the wound healed as if it had never happened. Taking a small vial from his jacket, he deposited the blood with the eject button. "It also will remain completely sterile, as it is magically designed to do so. After a time of using it, you will be able to see and feel how much blood is a milliliter and go from there. This is simply a starter device." He held it out for you to take. "A tree of this size, trying to return it to as it was...one milliliter should do well. This one does not need an exact amount, but to much blood, especially for plant life, will do nothing." He explained.
You took the pen and sat at the base of the tree, laying the paper down in front of you on the roots. Studying the pen, you weren't sure how to feel. If this worked, it would be a way to cast symbols. Not pure magic...but it was still casting. If it failed, even under Barbatos's training, then you would know for sure... you wanted it to work. You didn't want to be a failure in their eyes.
You did as instructed, going slow and learning the pen as you went. The draw of your blood was less painful than expected, but that could be due to nerves. Lining up the pen to deposit your blood, you took a deep breath and hit the eject button. Ypu sat with expectant eyes for what felt like an eternity.
Nothing was happening.
Now Barbatos knew as well what a failure you were. Dragging yourself up, you angerly signed, 'Don't forget your envelope when you leave.' Making your way quickly to the house, you held back tears. This was it, even with Solomon and Barbatos backing you, you failed.
"Mc, wait!" Solomons voice was right behind you.
You let out a silent scream as hands gripped your shoulders and turned you around. You knew Belphegor wasn't here, it didn't help though. The hands now on your face, moving it, was making you panic.
The panic slowly faded as you watched the scorch marks seemingly absorb into the tree. Small leaves springing up randomly and the trees leaves growing to full size.
"A tree grows from the inside out, Mc. There was plenty of work that needed to be done inside so the outside could flourish." Barbatos had never moved from his spot, still looking to the tree as he spoke. "With a bit of guidance, it was able to come back from nothing. Just as I believe you can as well."
The tree looked perfect in just a few minutes, even better than before Barbatos had burned it...
You weren't sure when you had fallen to your knees, but Barbatos offered his hand to assist you. You were hesitant. Ever since Belphegor had tried to kill you a second time, even simple touches petrified you. But Barbatos could offer you guidance, just as Solomon had for potions. It wasn't pure casting, it would be long, hard hours and so much blood...but you could do this. Ritual symbols could be used for so many things, and if you could find the details that needed adjusted as Barbatos had said...you could cast what ever you liked with enough blood. You'd bleed yourself dry if it meant you could even get close to what you had.
You reached out slowly and took his hand, flinching and closing your eyes, repeating that Belphegor wasn't here and could do you no harm. "Do you still wish to decline the academies invitation?"
You shook your head quickly as you stood, freeing your hand from his as soon as you had stood, a small shiver shaking your core. Something as simple as the gloved hand of a friend that had never harmed you, but arranged time to his whim to save you once now made you shake with fear.
'When can we leave?'
#obey me belphie#obey me! belphie#obey me belphegor#obey me! belphegor#shall we date obey me#obey me swd#obey me#obey me!
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I've never sent an ask before, so pardon me if I did it incorrectly.
I was thinking maybe a hc on an idea that's been floating around in my head for a bit.
Just, Beelzemon's extremely introverted (but also not remotely shy) tamer seeming to suddenly stop coming to the Digital World without warning, and so after making a solid attempt at being patient for about two weeks (perhaps this not being the first time, so he has some reassurance that it's probably just his tamer's workplace and he's absolutely NOT interested in helping with customer service), he decides to come to the Real World without prompting just to see what's up.
He finds his tamer at home and she's just...beyond exasperated with something, and also apologetic for disappearing on him. When he pesters her for why she practically disappeared on him, it's like a dam breaks and she goes into an hours-long exasperated rant about how people seem obsessed with drama and with dragging her into it.
"I don't know why people think I care if someone I once knew in fourth grade tells their partner to yeet some random's Lamborghini out a seventh story window! It's not my business, and I don't want anything to do with it! I don't appreciate my life being put on hold because someone thought it'd be funny to say I told them to do it. This is why I don't do social, nonsense like this!" - being more or less the summary of it.
His tamer then apologizes for "ranting [his] ear off," and then asks to spend the next few months or years in the Digital World with him while the drama dies down. His tamer citing that she trusts him to keep her safe and that the dangers of the Digital World at least make far more sense than 98% of human drama.
Beelzemon with a fem Tamer who wants to get OUT and leave drama behind
It's not unusual for Beelzemon to go a few days without seeing his Tamer. He did accept that. Sometimes, the Real World bullshit that she had to deal with was way more than Beelzemon would want to deal with, and he especially didn't want to go seeking her out to help her with her job. He HATED interacting with people, even if it was over whatever the hell phones even were. So... He did the polite thing and he waited. And he waited. It was pushing it a little when it got past two weeks without a single visit or a simple damn hello. And so he had to do SOMETHING about it. Easy enough when switching between the worlds was something he and his Tamer figured out how to do so simply for the both of them.
The Demon Lord doesn't exactly demand an answer, but he does look quite clearly upset as he asks just what had been going on so much in the Real World that he didn't even get a peep from his Tamer, his arms crossed over his chest as he slightly glared down at her. He only let up on the look when she began to rant. And rant. And rant. And RANT. Beelzemon sat himself down, just listening to her air out the frustration of the human world, not really trying to interject anything since she seemed to be jumping from one topic to another about either work, or general bullshit that happened while she was here.
Beelzemon couldn't help but to stare at her quietly before he burst out laughing. What the HELL was she even going on about for half of that!? He couldn't help but to laugh and shake his head as he grabbed her hand and brought her close for a slight side-hug, wrapping his arm around her as he grinned widely down at her. He didn't catch half of what his Tamer ranted about, but it sounded... Like god damn hell of all things. The human world was such a weird place, and human jobs were definitely.... interesting, so to say.
When she brings up the idea of practically vacationing in -- or more like moving to -- the Digital World for the next... However damn long she would be able to manage, Beelzemon was half tempted to just drag her back with hardly any more prompting, but he did have to ask if she was really sure about that. While he'd LOVE to have his Tamer around so they could generally fuck around in the Digital World, him being able to ride Behemoth with her as they usually did and let her see the sights the world had to offer, sometimes the place could get a bit much.
Beelzemon would have to agree, though. A lot of the stuff that went on in the Digital World was a lot more easy to deal with and handle compared to whatever the hell humans here did, seeming so obsessive over the smallest of things and making fun of others, or generally being assholes. But... hey, if his Tamer is alright with it, Beelzemon would be more than glad to bring her with him when he went back. It's hardly a fight with him, since he always loved spending time with his Tamer anyway, and her not having to deal with work would be perfect for the both of them.
So.. He completely offers it. She should pack a bag of clothes if she does plan to come with him, cause he really is with the idea of keeping her safe while in the Digital World so she can get this shit out of her mind, and maybe whoever she had dealt with in this drama would let it die. He was just excited to spend more time with her more than anything, really.
#Digimon#Digimon and Tamers#Beelzemon#(you did fine for a first ask!#technically there isn't a right or wrong way#so long as I get a gist of what you generally want I can go off it dfhsdfh
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Sun was reading the magic book, curled up on the couch and saying anything interesting he found to Moon. Solar was in the kitchen, their demon brother claimed to be trying to make hot chocolate.
Sun turned the page "hm, Oath Chains? those sound-" he was interrupted by Solar sprinting into the room and grabbing the book. Solar tore the page out with his claws and burned it in his hand.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR SOLAR?" Moon shouted at the demon, who only had a slightly guilty look from being yelled at.
"You don't need to know about those. I'm going for a fly" Solar said simply, before quickly going out the door. Sun noticed there was a panicked look in his eyes before he left. Sun looked confusedly toward the door Solar just left out of.
"What did the page say?" Moon asked Sun, who looked at his brother. Moon looked almost scared, Solar's sudden outburst and burning the page probably caused that.
"I didn't read it yet, that was just the title" Sun said, staring at the pile of ash on the floor from the paper.
"Do you have a backup? We should read that page, he's trying to hide something from us" Moon said, his eyes darting back to the door Solar left out of as if he'd come back any second.
"I do, but do you really think we should read it? Solar clearly doesn't want us to, I don't want to break his trust" Sun said, he liked having Solar around. Solar was like an overprotective big brother, although the fact that he was bound here by an order to protect them probably led to the overprotectiveness.
"He's hiding something from us, I know he's been nice, but he's still a demon. If it's nothing bad we can just ignore it, but I think we should look" Moon said, Sun figured he was right, he still felt there was good reason Solar didn't want them reading the page though.
"I've got pictures of them on my camera, didn't trust using my phone to back up a demonic book" Sun said, getting up and going into his room to find the camera. He still felt guilty to be looking at the page Solar clearly didn't want him to but... it would be fine, Solar didn't even have to know.
He brought the camera back to the living room, his twin sat next to him and looked over his shoulder. Sun went through some of the pictures before finally finding the picture of the burnt page.
It was simply titled "Oath Chains" which was the only thing Sun was able to read before. However now he noticed something was different about this page. There were notes in red ink across the empty spaces of the page, written plainly in English. The handwriting was clearly different from the rest of the book, like someone annotated this page specifically.
He focused on the original writing, deciding to save the red writing for after. The book described oath chains as demonic restraints of an unknown material, however they appeared to be bright glowing gold. The golden chains appear when a demon tries to break their oath, stopping the demon from doing so and temporarily burning them in the process. Demons seem to be weaker while bound by these chains. Chains disappear once the demon stops trying to break their oath. They reminded him of the bands that appeared around Solar's wrists when they made the oath. Sun didn't really see what had Solar so freaked out over this page.
That was the extent of the original information, however the red notes were concerningly more detailed. As if written from someone directly studying it and it's effects on a demon rather than a simple behavioral and appearance observation notes.
The chains are not solid, they are not gold, they are likely some kind of magical light. They do not produce heat. Was written next to the description of the chain's appearance. That wasn't too concerning, a simply further description and clarification.
The chains are more painful when kept on them for a longer period of time. Chains do not leave any forms of physical damage; wrists were left undamaged after being bound by the chains for multiple hours. That was... more concerning than the other. Why did a demon have the chains on them for hours if they could just stop trying to break the oath?
This is one of the most interesting parts, how much weaker. Demons are extremely weakened by the chains, exhausting themselves trying to struggle against them, and their healing properties are stopped. Once unbound, injuries made to them while bound will heal at a human rate, and even leave scars! Was written next to the note about demons getting weaker.... Wait, leave scars? Was that why Solar didn't want them reading this page? The guilt from before filled him, no wonder Solar freaked out at this! It was basically telling them how to permanently hurt him! Clearly something similar to what was written had happened to Solar to cause the facial scarring.
Despite showing little to no effect in their normal state, holy water greatly affects bound demons. Allowing it to drip repeatedly onto an area proves it to be corrosive to their flesh. This can even affect their face, as part of the mouth of the demon I am studying was burned away during my study. The image of Solar's scarred face immediately came up in Sun's mind. The flesh burned away from the right side of his mouth, lit up by his glowing teeth. He felt sick, he shouldn't have read this, he should've just left it alone like Solar wanted him to. There was more writing, but Sun refused to even look at it, except for a small name written in red ink.
-L. Eclipse
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⭐star⭐
Okay, so the whole chapter of Forty-Eight following this scene is one that I struggled incredibly hard to write, in part because it was the first one I'd penned since ten years earlier. Or just shy of ten. But we'll go with this specific scene because it's got so, so many layers:
"I'm twenty-five, I dinna need a babysitter."
The words were sharp, snapped off at their ends like branches frozen solid in the darkest part of winter.
Corry was a little surprised, in a dull fashion, by how unsurprised he was by them, as he regarded Scotty.
It reminded him, not of the aftermath of the dive into the North Atlantic, but of the aftermath of the fire in the shipyards. And even then, it wasn't the way Scotty had tackled him to the ground and came a hair's breadth from punching him, but past that, when he stood there shaking, blood dripping off of his jaw from where his head had been sliced open, containment cracked right down the middle.
Then and now, he was angry and wounded.
Then and now, he was one of the toughest people Cor had ever known, and simultaneously also one of the most vulnerable.
They'd stayed in the skimmer for a good couple hours; Corry hadn’t wanted to wake Scotty up when he was finally sleeping well enough to do him some good, so instead he'd sat there and watched the snow start falling again that had chased them north from Baltimore, feeling dazed and exhausted and heartsore, so tired that he couldn’t seem to even think anymore.
And when Scotty did wake up again, he was a good bit more together mentally; enough, anyway, to start raising his metaphorical shields.
Which led to them now staring one another down across half the distance of a motel room; not the measured, graceful dance of give and take that they had learned over the past six years, but not so far from it that it didn't echo, at least.
“Twenty-six,” Corry said, after a moment, barely able to force his voice above a whisper. “As of yesterday.”
He said it mostly as a reminder that all of that missing time meant something, as a way of saying without saying just how close to dying his brother had gotten and how badly hurt he still was. And it was also a way to offer Scotty some kind of grasp of where and when he was; Corry had told him the date before, right after they left the hospital, but he couldn't take it for granted that Scotty would have kept hold of it, especially given the circumstances.
He still didn't know what to make of the stricken look he got back, but it wrenched something in the base of his throat; it was such an expression of grief and disbelief and Corry could feel it in his own already-raw chest.
Still, Scotty didn’t answer that right away; instead, white-knuckling a crutch with one hand, left foot drawn up a little so he wasn’t putting his weight on it, he just covered his eyes with his other hand and, in the shadow of that gesture, breathed careful and measured. Even as the muscles in his jaw knotted; even as his bottom lip twitched.
But when he did drop his hand again after a small eternity, face wet and hand shaking, he tipped his chin up anyway and looked Cor in the eyes.
“Move,” he said, quietly, voice ragged. “Please.”
Then and now, he was courage trying to find enough oxygen to survive, and so Corry moved.
--
Okay, so for those of you who only know me for Star Wars, some quick backstory: My first fandom love was Star Trek, the Original Series, and if you've known me for two minutes, you'd know that Scotty's been my favorite guy forever. Which is probably for the better, honestly, because I think I might be one of maybe-- I dunno, less than ten people since the 60s who has looked at that man and decided to imagine him as the main character of his own story. Like-- I am at least reasonably sure that there are less than five of us who not only did that, but then decided to actually write that story.
Which I've been working on now for half of my lifetime. And the tale this scene is from is him trying to piece together what happened to him half of his lifetime ago.
I've mentioned it in replies and chats and across time, but Scotty is easily the most complex character I've ever written. He's complicated. And Forty-Eight, the story that scene above is from, is the hardest story I've ever tried to tell. I posted the prologue in 2009. I'm almost to the end now only in 2023. Because it's fucking hard, it's wrenching to write, it means deconstructing a character I've loved all my life, it means getting way more real than TV ever let us get. I came back to it because I almost died myself last summer; I came back to it because Scotty got very close to it here, both back when he was thirteen and then again just shy of twenty-six.
So, that scene above kind of touches on a whole lot of his backstory before this: ONOW, where that scene of him bloody and angry came from (wearing the black from the smoke and the blood pouring down the right side of his face like warpaint), and also Corry recognizing the connection between that moment and this one--
Then and now, he was angry and wounded.
Then and now, he was one of the toughest people Cor had ever known, and simultaneously also one of the most vulnerable.
--but especially the recognition that his brother is both of those things at the exact same time. Incredibly tough, but also very, very vulnerable, with vulnerable being more synonymous to fragile in this sense than open or unguarded.
So, beyond the past connection and the insight, there is the fact that Scotty -- who absolutely does love his brother, like every bit as much as Cor loves him -- still is falling back to self-defense, raising his shields, even against someone he knows would never hurt him, someone who just risked hugely to protect him, for that matter. And there is Corry kind of trying to gently tell him, hey, you were literally in surgery where they were putting you back together when your birthday passed, and Cor not knowing he's stumbled over a pretty nasty trigger or where it's from, but recognizing it once he does, and how much it hurts him to see that.
And finally:
Then and now, he was courage trying to find enough oxygen to survive, and so Corry moved.
Another callback to ONOW specifically, but also the whole storyline. But I guess what I love most about that line is echoed throughout the whole chapter. The whole story.
Corry's had a really, really good life, mostly. He has loving parents. He grew up in a beautiful place. He was never abused. He always knew he was loved, that if something happened, he had a home to retreat to and people who would protect him. Up until ONOW, nothing bad ever really happened to him or his family.
And yet, instead of just relying on that fine upbringing and that safety net, he instead not only risks everything to save Scotty, but tries incredibly hard to extend that safety net to include his brother, too, who never once had one of his own before and still doesn't quite know how to cope with it. Or accept it. Or feel worthy of it.
So, this story from Corry's side is, "I love you and I desperately want to help you and bring you safely home where we can just protect you and if I can do that, I'm fulfilling one of the major purposes in my life." And he does this despite how much he has to risk.
There is a lot more to this story than just this one scene. I can point to every story before it for a piece or more that gets called back to in this one, even if ONOW is the one most directly referenced. But this scene is a favorite because it's so telling. Because it also references Bookends, which is another of my favorites from AotW: That measured dance of give-and-take that these two have had to learn, and how fucking important it is that they did learn it before now, because now is when they need it the most.
Boiled down, it's basically just how deeply one brother loves the other, and all the deep work they had to do to reach this point, and the acknowledgment that even then they're in dark waters, and also the recognition that sometimes courage is just refusing to quit breathing.
Like I said, a lot going on.
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