#I need the closeness but also the knowledge of being kept (safe)

[witchplease-freakbitch]

I need to sit at his feet and snuggle up against his leg, while he holds my leash and plays with my hair.

#satans asylum toy #d/s #I need a lot of reassurance lately #freakbitch speaks #asylumdoll thoughts #nsft #personal #I need the closeness but also the knowledge of being kept (safe) #dom/sub stuff #owned #property #slave kink

[celestemona]

WHEN THEY’RE DADS

and how they deal with their children and domestic life. part ii.

pairing: dad & husband! cyno, kaveh, alhaitham x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnancy is mentioned to introductions but not too elaborated. not beta read. a bit longer than the previous ones.

kazuha’s part | part. i

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

 Cyno

If there was something that the General Mahamatra valued beyond justice and absolute truth, it’d be the loyalty of those around him without asking for anything in return. Cyno could count on both hands the number of people he’d risk his life to or who’d have his back, and to be honest, there weren't many of them. Thus, the passing of the years only solidified this philosophy, confirming that trust wasn’t something to be given, but earned — it being the reason why he only kept a certain number of people close to him.

However, this belief had also shown Cyno that some priorities were greater than others, and ensuring your happiness and safety became the main one of them all. Especially when you were also the one carrying his babies.

Your pregnancy announcement was unexpected, but the change in your husband's personality wasn’t. As your belly grew, you could notice that Cyno became a little more clingy with you, enjoying being by your side or placing his warm hands on it to feel his children's kicks. Though, the mahamatra also couldn't help but be more overprotective or bossy towards you, traits that seemed to have intensified over the months. 

Cyno liked to think that his overprotectiveness was justified since not only had he become a first-time father but of twins. His bossy acts weren’t for nothing either. It was just because your husband knew you and your impulsiveness very well, so the slightest thought of the risks that you could put yourself out there of your own free will stressed him out already.

And this last one you seemed to do on purpose to test him since you had put yourself in critical situations more times than he wished to count.

So, to ease his worries and keep an eye on you, the decision to temporarily settle in Vila Aaru was mutually agreed, providing Cyno with a momentary sense of peace knowing that his very pregnant wife would be surrounded by competent and trustworthy people. And then, his children could be born in a comfortable and safe environment.

The decision couldn't have been the best because a few months later and just a few minutes apart, Aryan and Isaar were born on a cold night.

The leader of the Matras still can remember that it was when he was returning to the village from a patrol when he was greeted first by your painful screams and then by the sight of your sweaty and tearful figure. Your husband didn't think twice before taking Candace's place behind your back to give you the support you needed, sharing his strength with you and whispering comforting words in your ear.

Internally, Cyno felt more than terrified for this new stage in his life despite all the previous months of mental preparation. But as he watched in amazement Aryan in his arms and Isaar in yours, the mahamatra concluded that there were no books or scrolls in the world that could describe the feelings that coursed through his veins at that moment. There wasn't enough knowledge that could teach him how to be a father, and even so, he knew he’d learn along the way to be the best he could.

The first few weeks of adaptation were exhausting for both of you. Cyno was on leave from his position, being at yours and his babies disposal and dealing with most of the household tasks, which relieved you a lot. But if he ever thought that nothing would overcome the hardness of his work at Akademiya, the sleepless nights with his newborn twins proved him wrong. 

It wasn't something he complained about or refused to take on, though. He preferred you to rest as much as you could after spending the whole day with the children — it was more his lack of confidence in dealing with the little ones in your absence that tormented him.

As time went on, however, what he thought were difficult tasks became routine, so he could say with some confidence that he had adapted to fatherhood quite well. The bond between father and sons was also something that developed beautifully as the days went by, and some mornings, you’d be greeted with the sweet sight of the General Mahamatra sleeping on the armchair in the twins' room while holding both of them in his muscular arms.

Speaking of the twins, Aryan and Isaar couldn’t be as physically similar to Cyno more than they were already. The babies, just a few months old, have already demonstrated that they share the same personality with each other, which they also take after their father — the stoic and slightly indifferent expression frighteningly similar to Cyno. Aryan was a little more sullen, refusing to acknowledge others' attempts to make him smile while Isaar willingly raised his arms to familiar faces with the intention of getting something in return. 

While you watched them in disbelief, your husband smiled proudly. It seems his children were already good judges of character.

Strange in its own way, but a home full of love. That would be the phrase to define your family. Although both you had divergent methods of raising your children, the twins still had complete freedom of decision about what they judged to be right or wrong. Cyno would never punish his sons for their choices; instead, he’d wisely correct them. Even though outwardly he shows rigidity and authority, Cyno is quite soft when it comes to his family so he can't stay mad at you for long.

It was honestly a strange sight for many, mainly his subordinates and the scholars who knew the man's unorthodox methods of discipline very well.

Even so, they couldn’t help but admit that fatherhood suited him well. Strangely, but still.

They only feared the possibility that in the future the boys would develop a sense of humor as horrible as their father.

Kaveh

If they asked Kaveh what his greatest achievements are, he’d readily answer that there are three of them, although two had the greatest highlights.

Even if the architect was proud of the effort and dedication that led him to give life to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, the importance of the project seemed to be irrelevant compared to the fact that he managed to win you heart. After all, maybe there was nothing so disputed between men and women all around of Teyvat but to capture the attention of the Gem of Liyue. And in a way as ironic and simple as it seemed to be, Kaveh was the only one to be able to accomplish such a feat.

As the younger sister of the Tianquan of the Qixing, it wasn’t surprising that you were also known for your intelligence, elegance and beauty, so it was expected of your people that you’d marry someone with all these qualities and wealth that could satisfy your desires. 

However, they didn't know you as well as Ningguang and how Kaveh came to know you, and so, it was unexpected news that resonated for weeks when you announced your marriage.

At that time, so much uproar from the press and liyuean citizens had made Kaveh doubt himself because, well… did he even have all the means necessary to provide you with a comfortable life? He was slowly recovering from his debts and had barely started building his own house. Compared to you who literally lived in a mansion and ate from a golden platter he had nothing.

Nevertheless, you assured him that no gold or mora in the whole world could equal the love you had for him, only his reciprocal affection was what you were looking for.

And because your husband cares and loves you so deeply, Kaveh couldn't feel anything but thankfulness when you granted him with the greatest pride of his life. His daughter, Zahra.

The baby hadn't even been born and was already very adored by her father. During your pregnancy, Kaveh had been nothing but a passionate and devoted husband, helpful and attentive to both you and her. His passion for art led him to challenge himself and bring only the best when it comes to projecting Zahra's room, as well as designing the crib and its decorations. You couldn't help but watch with a smile on your face as he worked hard to provide only the best for his child.

When Zahra decided to come into the world, your husband's tearful, fascinated face only confirmed what you already knew: Kaveh would be an extraordinary father.

“I swear that I’ll protect you from all the cruelty of this world. And even if the day comes that I don't have the strength to do so, I’ll still keep you safe”, he promised as he placed a kiss on the baby's forehead.

You just smiled with equally teary eyes at the sweet scene.

Kaveh didn't know the meaning of the word tired when it came to his daughter. The blonde man loved having the baby in his arms, and when it came to her basic needs, he was a great help by proudly taking on the tasks. In fact, in the first weeks of Zahra's life, he had refused to let her sleep alone in her new room, and when you insisted on putting her in her crib, Kaveh would spend the entire night by her side. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his little princess in his absence.

You could just roll your eyes.

As Zahra grew up, she became an increasingly beautiful girl and was much loved by her parents. Her naturally rosy cheeks and golden hair decorated with barrettes or bows made people compare her to a doll. The girl has a beauty and features similar to her father, though her sweet and laughing personality is her own traits. Kaveh feared that one day the evil of the world would take away the melodious sounds of her laughter, but there was a slight mischievous gleam in her golden eyes that betrayed that she was quite clever too.

In addition to her parents' unconditional love, Zahra also has a close relationship with her mother's sister, who has a weak spot for her niece, and with her paternal grandmother. 

Shortly before marrying you, the older woman had tried to invest more in her son's life, now making sure of participating in dinners, commemorative dates or holidays.

For a long time Kaveh believed that he wasn’t worthy of such happiness. After his father's death and his mother's estrangement, the architect had a single objective: trying to survive one day at a time, fighting his own demons and relying on what little was left of his savings. He had never considered himself a man of honor, someone who was worthy of having his own family and a home to return to. In fact, he didn't consider himself a lucky man at all.

And yet, he couldn't feel as fortunate as he did because through all the paths he took and decisions he made, one of them led him to you and gave him the greatest achievements of his life.

Alhaitham

Hardly anyone would admit it out loud, but your presence in the halls of Akademiya was as fresh as a breath of spring air.

As the new Darshan teacher of Haravatat, your intelligence and passion for knowledge were characteristics that not only your students came to admire, but even the sages themselves gushed praise about, which eventually earned you a reputation that spread throughout the dendro nation. Furthermore, your beauty and charisma only complemented your charm, so there were many hearts that you had caught along the way — and consequently also have broken, as the slight bulge beneath your clothes and the golden ring shining on your left ring finger made it very clear who yours already belonged to.

To say that the beginning of your relationship with the Akademiya’s Scribe was even the subject of an academic thesis would be an understatement given that Alhaitham wasn’t someone who was known for his friendliness much less cordiality. In fact, his disinterested expression and acid humor worked precisely as a mechanism to purposefully keep people away from him, and even his friends weren’t immune to his unpleasant comments.

But even though the question remained, the students quickly learned that this attitude would never apply to you.

Like a moth drawn to the light, Alhaitham was equally drawn to you, they concluded. There was something about you that just your presence was enough to generate a small and not so noticeable change in Alhaitham's aura, even if to others he remained as rigid as he was. Besides, the progress of your pregnancy had also shown them that the scribe was as human as they were, he just had a less flashy way of showing his concern and care for his wife.

What the scholars and citizens of Sumeru saw, however, was just the tip of the iceberg compared to the affection you received from your husband when the doors to your home closed. Although Alhaitham hadn't shown his excitement as openly as you, the scribe was internally happy to begin a new stage of life by your side. And you could see this in the number of maternity books and notebooks with notes organized in his office, in the meals he had prepared meticulously thinking about nutritional values ​​or in the care he took to suggest and choose a simple and meaningful name for your baby.

His actions were small and discreet, but enough to prove to you that he already loved the child as much as you did.

Hakim's arrival into the world also showed you the efforts your husband would make for his son. With a smile gracing his lips and slightly teary eyes, Alhaitham allowed himself to express himself a little more in the face of such a beautiful moment. It wasn't something that even you saw frequently and, therefore, you’d certainly make sure to eternalizing the picture forever in your memory.

“Thank you”, was the only thing he could say to you while looking at you with enormous tenderness.

Despite the overwhelming happiness that coursed within him, the scribe also couldn't help but feel a little empty at his grandmother's absence. Even though the longing was something he had managed for a long time now, it was in moments like these that the lady's absence came back. He was sure she’d love meeting you and her great-grandson, but wherever she was, he also knew she was taking care of his family in her own way.

Furthermore, looking at you and the child that slept so peacefully in his arms, Alhaitham knew that there was nothing to fear and that his son would grow up in a home filled with as much love as he was.

Therefore, fatherhood wasn't something that scared Alhaitham nor did it make him doubt his ability to take care of his son. If someone asked him what his biggest challenges were, he wouldn't be able to think of any because every day he was faced with something new and learned from it. Plus, Hakim was a sweet and quiet baby, a mix of both parents' personalities. Understanding his child's needs was as easy as if they were his own.

Still so small, Hakim would be surrounded by reading and multiple knowledge, often being found in the arms of one of his parents while you were working or simply reading for pleasure. You discovered that the baby liked to listen to you or Alhaitham reading aloud, so it wasn't strange to find you or your husband somewhere in the house reciting some academic article with the little one within reach.

When the boy was old enough to sit up, that’d be the time when you’d return to teaching at Akademiya, and even if your baby's presence during classes had already been discussed and authorized, Alhaitham wouldn’t hesitate to take over his care — whether taking him to his own office or to the Sanctuary of Surasthana where he would spend hours enjoying the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

You could say that Alhaitham is a simplistic man. He recognizes his flaws and knows that he came with many of them, which is why he distances himself from so many people. But it was in the moments when he returned home, returning to you and your son who were waiting for him with great enthusiasm that the man thought that there was nothing as perfect as his own home.

.

.

you guys will have to forgive me again but i did not beta-read this part (clearly) nor i'll have the patience to do so because i'm currently traveling at my granny's home and it's so hot here that i couldn't even write this whole headcanon without stop everytime to take a breath of fresh air. therefore, i won't have the patience to look for mistakes now. i'll let it with you tho.

also, i remember i've said in the last part that if perhaps i start to write a genshin dad series i'd write only for the first four man i came up the idea to. however, i'm hypocrital and slut for the sumeru men too so i couldn't stop myself but draft their children biography.

i really hope you've like it so far because, for real, alhaitham's part was the hardest one and somehow i feel like this isn’t good enough to be posted. nevertheless, thank you for your reading :)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #cyno #cyno x reader #genshin dads au

[lethalchiralium]

If ur taking requests can we get something like Ghost still doesnt trust fxreader at all even when they are together for like 1/2 years and she gets all sad and starts distancing herself tyxxxx

No More | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: guys. guys i mean it keep the requests coming i love them. also : captain reader? because girlboss??? it’s kinda shitty but i love messy. gives me better control of future chapters :)

CALLSIGN: Mercy

warnings: angst, cussing, realizations and sort of heartbreak.

summary: You’ve been with Ghost for a year and a half - you allowed him into things you kept safe guarded, and realized that he has never done the same for you.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

SERIES MASTERLIST

You thought he would grow out of it. He’s an adult; given, he’s a very fucked up soldier, but an adult that has done adult things. He’s a few years shy of being in his thirties, and he doesn’t even understand the basics of having a girlfriend. He doesn’t understand a lot of things, and even though you’ve explained to him more times than you can remember, he still didn’t understand you after a year and a half of being together. Sure, you are on the same squad, you leave separately on break but always end up in the same apartment. The apartment that had framed pictures of you, your family, your dog - yet it always feels like he doesn’t give you anything.

It’s been a year and a half and the only personal thing you got out of him was a story about his brother when they were younger. You had told him countless stories of you and your childhood best friend, your single dad who fostered and adopted you. You even told him about your childhood dog who got hit by a car when he was young and still lived to be 15, about the very short memories you had of your godfather before he passed. You had told him everything, you had put your full trust into him and he hadn’t even given thought into putting an ounce of trust into you.

You couldn’t help it when you started to close yourself off - a trauma response from those years in the orphanage, then the system. You took less and less patients, eventually getting confronted by your Lieutenant, “What is going on with you, Captain?” You had given them a half-assed answer, “Got a lot of papers to go through from Price. It won’t be a long time.” And you kept yourself locked in your office, looking over case files and possible missions you could go on to escape this. Escape the feeling that has been gnawing at your soul since the last time you left your apartment with him three months ago. The feeling of distrust, of emotional abandonment.

You didn’t stop your tears when they came every night after Ghost had visited, but you never cried in front of him. You figured that would give him more ammunition to keep you at arm’s length.

Your hand ran across the hefty manila folder, the other held onto your vest collar. You opened the folder.

It was a stupid decision, you knew that. He would never let you get out of his sight, let you be anywhere without his knowledge and approval. But you needed something different - you needed somewhere where you felt like you could breathe, with people you trust and have put trust into you.

Your dog, Cerberus, whined from your cot across the room. You’d been sleeping more in your office than your own room, you figured it was because you were mentally preparing to be out on the friend with your old squad, and definitely not because you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Ghost. He never let you move away from him in missions, never let you out of his sight when on them - it was suffocating, feeling like you were inadequate in a field you spent most of your life in because of the man you loved with everything you had. You gave him your all, your everything - he definitely made you feel that it would never be enough, without him even speaking a word.

Your eyes read over the mission again. Reconnaissance on a couple of enemy bases, a patrol of safe houses in the area to make sure they were still secure. That and to infiltrate a top secret base deep in the mountains to retrieve information on a possible illegal uranium enrichment plant being constructed. Your eyes darted back across the room to Cerberus, you whistled lowly. The German Shepherd leapt off your cot, scrambling to sit in between you and your desk, he plopped his heavy head on your lap. You smiled at him, scratching behind his ears. “Good boy, Cerby.”

Your team consisted of your good friends, Logan and Hesh Walker, as well as Keegan Russ. You remembered how threatened Ghost was with how close of friends you were with them, you had chose to follow him to 141 instead of stay in the comfort of the Ghost Crew. A choice you had regretted earlier, but not now. You felt a lot better equipped with such an intense task force, you have more medics than before and an actual base to stay in - that and Price seemed a lot more relaxed now that Hassan and Shepherd were no longer a problem.

Cerberus’s ears perked up and he darted out from under your desk as you heard thunderous footsteps coming towards your office.

“Lay down.” You ordered your dog, he looked back at you before he skittered back onto your bed. You stood, your seat wheeled backwards half a foot. It was only five more seconds before your office door slammed against the wall, Ghost stormed in and shoved it back into the frame with his foot. He held up a folder just likes yours before he growled loudly, “What the fuck is this?”

You closed your own folder, moving your hand from your vest collar and splaying your fingers on the cardstock. Your eyes stayed down on the folder stamped, “Classified.”

“You’re going on a mission with the Ghosts?”

Your eyes looked over some stamped patient files, taking them in your hand and opening a few to se did you had signed them.

“Price told me five minutes ago. You’ve known for how long?”

You closed the files and whistled lowly again, the clicking of claws against the concrete was heard as the massive search and rescue dog curled around the back of your legs. You didn’t even have to look to know that he had his hackles raised - when you were on guard, so was he.

Ghost marched forwards and slammed his folder down on your desk, his fist clenched as he growled, “Answer me.”

“A month.” You muttered, eyes staring at the folders in your hands before turning away. You’ve cried over him the night previous and the seven before that, must you face him?

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” His voice was gruff, appalled. “That’s reckless. And you told Price not to tell me? Really?”

“It was need to know.” You answered, placing the files back on your desk before you stepped around your dog to the head of your cot where your duffle sat open. He followed, keeping a distance of six feet from you because of Cerberus curling around your legs and staring at him. Your hands grew shaky as you began to double check everything in your bag.

“I tell you whenever I leave for any mission, any fuckin’ errand, and you don’t dare tell me about one of the most important ops we’ve had in months? Why are you going?”

“They need a medic, they requested me.”

He scoffed. “We need our medic.”

You slowed down, hand brushing over your beige t-shirts as you spoke, “You have my lieutenant, Gomez.”

“I want you here.” His voice softened a little, you shoved the clothes down farther in the bag, pulling out your spare medkit and opening it, eyes darting over its contents. “I only trust you to patch me up.”

You slammed your spare med-pack closed and back into your duffle. You quickly zipped it, sharply saying, “That’s funny, ‘cause you seem not to trust me any other time.” You turned to look at him, eyes brimmed with tears.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t trust me, Simon. You never let me take my lead when we’re on missions, let me be near you, let me talk with other people.” Your arms crossed over your chest, tears slicing hot on your skin. “You don’t trust me. do you even want to be in this relationship?” Your hand went up and quickly wiped away your tears. “Because it certainly feels like you don’t.”

He stood there, stunned - his hands at his side, he had no idea what to do with them. “Of course I do.” He took a step forward, cautiously placing his right hand out. “Of course I trust you.”

You backed away then, your calves bumped into Cerberus, your hand reached down to touch his head - an attempt to calm yourself. “Then why can’t you put a little faith in me? A little faith that you are the one I go to sleep thinking about? That you are the one I worry about when I’m out on the field, instead of my own safety? That I wouldn’t ever do this to you?” Tears fall rapidly, your heart beat roughly in your chest - anxiety was gripping your diaphragm. “I trust you with my life, Simon. I have since we got together. It’s been almost a year and a half and you still don’t even trust me to have your back.”

He just stands there, arms at his side - his eyes stared at you, dark and full of pain. “I do. I do trust you, Y/N.”

You threw your duffle on your back and walked towards him - shoving a finger into his chest, looking up at him. “You have this whole mission to think about this, about us. Because I can’t be trusting you blindly when you don’t even trust me to breathe.”

You moved around him, whistling for Cerberus. The dog swiftly followed you out of the office, and you slammed the door behind you. You swiftly walked down the corridor, and as soon as you turned the corner, your back hit the wall. Your hand flew up to your mouth, pressing into it to muffle the loud sobs that fell from your throat. Cerberus pawed at your leg before pressing his head to it.

____________________

part 2 here!

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley request #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | masterlist

"And what now?" The general's voice is still tinged with the shock from the earlier happenings, his breathing ragged.

"The box won't open without…I don't know. Without what?" Cassian looks at Nesta and only wants to wrap her into his arms, keeping her safe. Nesta holds Ataraxia tightly in her hands, face displaying nothing but strength and determination, but when her eyes slide to the box, completely untouched and closed, on the table in front of her, in the middle of Rhysand's office, disappointment passes over her features. It makes the former determination disappear and her shoulders slouch. Nesta looks exhausted, even a little sad and Cassian just wants to hold her, tell her she did her best, that she did everything she could and it is enough. 

"We need magic. A greater force," Nesta breathes, gaze not wavering, trained on the little onyx box. Vassa, the clever fire bird, managed to steal the box Koschei always kept with him. They need to destroy it in order to destroy him, but right now it seems impossible — they can't do it. At least not with the tools at hand. 

Even Amren is clueless. What should they do? How should they go forward? 

Silence, palpable and heavy, falls upon the room and for a moment everyone seems clueless until—

Amren taps her fingers against her chin and then opens her mouth. "There is one person that I know that could be able to open this box." 

The temperature in the office cools at least five degrees, a chill coursing through it. Amren moves towards the desk, fingers tracing a line over the box, eyes squinted. "She has power beyond our knowledge." Amren inhales a deep breath. "And you, boys, put her in the Prison many years ago. Many centuries ago." She looks over her shoulder, dark hair shifting with the movement. "Azriel, Cassian."

A cold shiver cascades down Azriel's spine. A Prison inmate would be their solution? It can't be—

"We can't free a prison inmate," Cassian says, voice strong. 

"Of course not, we can also let Koschei destroy us." Amren's statement is gleeful, almost mocking of the general. Cassian only narrows his eyes at her, fighting the urge to flip her off. 

"I mean, how can we be sure she is loyal to us and not to…Koschei. Or that she doesn't try to murder us the first chance she gets?" Cassian looks a bit scared and Amren frowns at him. 

"Why should she be loyal to Koschei?" she asks in a bored voice. 

"If she is a creature that has to be kept in the Prison the connection for her to be loyal to the Death Lord or any kind of evil spirit is not too far fetched," Cassian says and lifts his arms in despair. 

Nesta takes a step back, moving closer to her mate, her heart still racing with the former actions. She was the one who tried to open the box, but failed. The power that held it close is just too strong. Alone the trial left its markings on her skin, on her body. She is shivering, goosebumps spreading all over her body. The ancient force having fought against her, fiercely. 

"Remember where I come from, boy," Amren snaps and throws Cassian a deadly look. "I've been in there once as well. And I know her. I know about her. And I know that she will help us and isn't loyal to Koschei."

Rhysand, formerly having been calm, silently observing the situation, now steps in, Nyx cradled to his chest. "Can we truly trust her, Amren?" His voice is deep and strong, bouncing of the walls of his office. 

They can't risk anything and freeing someone from the Prison can be deadly and cause more problems than they already have.

"We can." Her statement is steadfast, like nothing can shake her belief that the female in question can truly be their life saver. "She might be a little out of practice after being locked away for centuries, but I know she has the kind of power and magic to open this box. After all she was part of…them."

"Of who?" It is Gwyn who asks this question, her voice hushed, almost like whispering about a secret. 

Amren turns her head to the priestess, smirking. "Of the Wild Hunt. Not their leader, but the second-in-command." 

Silent gasps rumble through the room, and surprise flickers over Gwyn's young face. She has heard about the Wild Hunt, read about it, but she had no idea that someone who was apart of it was locked away in the prison. 

Shock takes root in Azriel's chest, rattling his very bones. He has to grab the backrest of the chair in front of him to keep from tumbling. There is only one female this description fits. A female he locked into the prison himself. A female who promised vendetta. A female he loved once. You. 

His throat works on a swallow, shadows nervously swirling around him. Azriel isn't the type to be scared of most things, but you? You are a different kind. A different breed. Something otherworldly. Something - a being - that indeed scares him. 

"We can use the Harp to enter the cell," Nesta suggests and earns herself a round of agreement and planning immediately starts. But Azriel is unfocused. He thoughts return to you. Always. His body feels weak and he is shaking on the inside. For centuries he has been thinking about you, and now…

"Azriel, you will get her." The shadowsinger wants to say no, but he can't. He has to do it. If someone frees you, it has to be him. So, he only bows his head in silent agreement and already moves towards the door. 

"I'll return with her," he says as a matter of good bye, his mind too distressed, his body still in shock, to answer anything else or to do anything else. 

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

The prison still looks the same. The same dark stone walls, the same mossy smell. The only thing that has changed is Azriel himself. He no longer is this young boy that would do anything the High Lord tells him, without the blink of an eye. He has grown now, and he knows that what he did to you back then, was wrong. The situation — you — should have been handled differently. But he can't take back his actions. But maybe, maybe there is a chance for him to explain it all to you. 

His steps hollow through the dimly lit halls, prison cells on either side of it.

He still remembers your cell. It is a memory imprinted on his mind, but one that has been locked away for hundreds of years. 

A cold shiver curls around his spine, just like his shadows curl around his body.

He had clamped down on the pain for so long, for centuries, but now that he is here again it all comes back and nearly breaks him. Now, he can't believe what he did. He can't believe he hurt you like this.

Why did he not try to fight? Why did he not choose another option.

Because there wasn't one. It was the only option to keep you safe. To protect you. And your safety was always his priority. Even if it meant locking you in here and ripping his own heart into shreds.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass—"

Your voice catches in your throat, when your nostrils flare, taking in the new, uncommon scent. Someone is here. Someone that hasn’t been here in a long time. The scent is not fully unfamiliar, but you also don’t remember its owner. Until—

A nest of shadows is the first thing you see when the door to your cell opens. The black mist clears and reveals a male of ethereal beauty. A male you've come to loathe even more with every passing century.

"Shadowsinger." A vicious grin spreads over your face, showing your elongated canines. "We meet again."

Alongside the general of the Illyrian armies, the spymaster caught you and put you in this Cauldron-damned prison. It had been centuries ago. But you haven't forgotten. You never will. But why he returned is a mystery….

Before he can so much as blink, you lunge at him, chains clattering on the cold stone floor, covered in dirt and mould. You want to claw at his throat, at best rip it out. The fire of fury inside of you has burned for centuries, wasn't diminished once. And his presence alone added enough fuel to make your weak and broken body move. The sound of the chains reverberates through the dank, musty air, your long, elongated canines gleaming with a feral snarl. 

"I'm going to kill you." But you can't. Technically, you can't kill him while in here. Magic binds your power and you are restrained, also by magical chains, that keep you from moving too far or too close to him. But that doesn't stop you from trying. 

Hatred, raw and powerful, fuels you and makes you blind with the only thing on your mind being to end his life. He condemned you to this wretched, soul-crushing place. He never cared that you had no choice other than being part of the Wild Hunt. You didn't choose your fate. So, he had no right to do so either. 

"You think these chains can hold me, Azriel?" Your voice is a venomous hiss, each syllable dripping with disdain as you strain against the biting restraints, the cold metal spikes digging into your flesh. "I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll rip your throat out and watch you bleed out until the very last drop."

Azriel, his demeanour not giving away the whirlwind of emotions within him, stands in a stance, Truth-Teller clasped in his scarred hands. He seems composed and not afraid and that angers you even more. And so does his voice, cold, low, velvety. 

"I'm not here to fight you," he says, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside the Prison cell and within both of you. "I am sorry for—"

"Stuff your apologies up your pretty ass!" With a guttural roar, you hurl yourself at him again, driven by an insatiable hunger to destroy him. Memories of the centuries that have passed, of degradation, and the pain you suffered reach the front of your mind and drive your anger forward. 

But the chains hold you back and Azriel swiftly side-steps you. It isn't even necessary. If he doesn't get any closer, there is no chance for you to reach him. 

You bare your teeth again, the thin, white nightgown clutching to your body like a second skin. You shiver, but not from the cold, rather from the rage blazing through your veins. "What do you want from me? Why did you come back? Why did you come back now?" you demand, but he leaves you without an answer. 

"I don't want to hurt you," Azriel repeats instead, a note of regret tinting his voice.

"Hurt me?" You sneer. "You've already destroyed me! You broke me and you left me broken. Bloody and cold. I lay in my own puke for days, bleeding, wounded."

A pang of hurt hits Azriel right in the heart. He only followed what Rhysand's father had told him to do. He had no other choice. Everything else would have meant your death. He couldn't have risked it. 

"I come here because I—because we need your help."

His eyes drop to your hands, scars also marring them. Your pointed nails are still sharp, but brittle, almost like you have been clawing at the stone walls. 

Memories flash in his mind of how you sunk them into his skin. How you scratched them over his skin. And how…simultaneously your lips met his, mouths dancing, tongues toying—

"You betrayed me," you seethe, "and now you want my help?"

Azriel's expression looks pained, torn. His eyes drop anew, to the chains binding your feet to the wall. Your hands, though, are free and you can't wait to sink your sharp nails into his neck. Your fangs as well. 

"Only over my dead body!" you scream, fury clouding your vision like black haze. 

Only for you to realise it is not fury that clouds your vision. He is using his shadows to do so. You can't see anymore and it makes you panic. And this panic makes you lose control. You forgot about your former target, the darkness so looming and scary it makes you scream. 

Chains clatter to the ground, but you are too caught in a stupor to move. To run. To attack. 

With a swift and calculated manoeuvre, Azriel is behind you and secures handcuffs around your wrists, binding you. Binding you…binding you…You are restrained again. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this." His voice is softer, but it hurts you. You don't want to hear it. Don't want to see this side of him. Because it isn't his true self. His true self hurt you. Broke you. Destroyed you. 

You hate him so much, it almost hurts. You can't allow the pain. You will never allow it. You only allow anger. 

Blind rage surges within you, a thunderstorm of emotions brewing. And then he does the most unforgivable thing. He knows about your past. Knows about your fear of the dark. And yet, darkness swallows you wholly — a blindfold tightens over your eyes. Helplessness makes the content of your stomach sour and burning tears dwell in your eyes. Rage simmers beneath your skin, but it is the pain of betrayal that nearly gains the upper hand. The sort of pain you have been pushing away for centuries. 

You scream anew. His name. Curses. Noises. 

"Forgive me," Azriel whispers from behind you. "Forgive me, please."

But you wouldn't even imagine doing so. Never. Only over your dead body. 

"You'll regret this." Your voice is not strong. It is hoarse and broken. "I will never forgive you."

Azriel moves swiftly. In his hand, he holds Nesta's harp, the key that allowed him to enter your cell.

"Forgive me," he says again and his hand lands on your hip. 

You resist, squirming against his grasp, frustration and anger lacing your voice. "Let me go!" you demand, a mix of desperation and in your voice. But he is stronger. 

Ignoring your protests, Azriel gathers you in his arms, scooping you up with ease that is beyond you, cradling your frame against his chest. He adjusts his hold, ensuring you're secure and you feel that something cold, and metal - you can't quite tell- is placed on your belly. The Harp, but this knowledge is unbeknownst to you. 

"Stop fighting," he growls. "I'm taking you away from this place."

"Only to lock me up somewhere else." Your tears wet the blindfold. 

You struggle again, but it is useless against his strength. Your voice turns into a seething growl when you feel cold air brush you. Azriel rises. You rise. He is flying. And he is taking your with him. 

With a powerful surge of his wings, he gets airborne, leaving the prison behind. When air and wind swirls around you, you continue to squirm and strain against his hold.

"I won't let you imprison me again!" you seethe, fear and anger loud in your voice. 

He stays calm. 

Gradually, your resistance lessens, your body relaxing slightly against Azriel's chest, tension and pain still coiling inside of you. But you are tired. Exhausted. You only want to sleep. And that for ages. 

As you fly farther from the prison, towards Velaris, Azriel's embrace remains steadfast, his eyes brushing over your body from time to time. His actions are the only reason for you to hate him so much. And it hurts him as well. 

"Forgive me," Azriel breathes into the chilly night air, but you don't hear him anymore. 

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesssav @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinalight @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

[jess-the-vampire]

i’ve seen a few people claim Philip stripped caleb’s jacket off his body after his death as some morbid memento, but we already have his memories on the matter and he had caleb’s jacket pre-fight and was wearing it when he first arrived.

even in his shadow form you can make out he’s wearing the coat.

Not to mention caleb is never seen wearing it in any of the memories on the isles

Nah, as much as i know people love finding new ways to make philip even more morbid, if the story holds any weight, and it probably does, it seems far more likely caleb left it back on earth with philip. There’s no evidence to suggest philip stole it or rid him of it, but that caleb ditched it when he left.

and when philip assumed a witch kidnapped his brother, he put it on, probably as a form of comfort and keeping his brother close at a time where he assumed the worst could have happened to him. Kinda in the same vein of how luz was wearing eda’s jacket to keep her close during their separation.

It seems to be quite an important object to him, being what looks like his only link left to caleb as he was on earth. With the thought he also grew his hair out to have a ponytail like his older brother it appears to be less like “Stealing” and way more like a sign of what was originally his admiration and love for his brother.

A strong desire to be close to him and be like him through his appearance, tho only the version of him that he remembers best, which was the one back on earth...not the one that left him for the isles,

(Which def fuels even more why he didn’t appreciate luz insulting it, because it was basically also insulting the brother he’s trying so hard to recreate, the one that didn’t leave him)

This isn’t even out of character that philip likes to keep mementos of his brother, he even seems to have taken his old childhood mask his brother made him to the isles judging by his memories. Tho i’m sure the jacket holds more significance because it was caleb’s first specifically.

I think it’s definitely easy now to accuse Philip of every bad thing ever, and his obsession with his brother screams serious attachment issues. But it doesn’t appear he had that jacket on originally for anything but genuine love and care for him, at first at least.

There’s no evidence to suggest caleb told philip he was leaving, or any evidence that he even tried to talk to his brother about what was going on with him. As far as we know, he left, and philip, from his pov, went out to save the person he considers his entire world from what he believes might kill and/or hurt him.

And if philip wasn’t the villian of the show, i think a lot more people would be willing to sympathize with that part of his character.

His relationship with his brother has both a lot of resentment for leaving him behind and alone, but also a lot of the original love and admiration for him he held for years.

But with the knowledge he only became a hunter because he felt he needed to fit in with society for survival purposes, combined with the fact caleb was his only family and caretaker...while only being a few years older then him at the very least....you can see how this probably fueled so many of his issues.

Wanted to make a post about this cause while he deserves the crap for the bad stuff he actually does, it’s at least worth mentioning at one point he was just a naïve child raised in a bad community who originally just wanted to keep the one person he loved the most....safe.

and at one point, that jacket was not some morbid prize he got for what he did, or something he seemingly stole, or him trying to steal his brother’s look, it was originally just something he wore....because he did love him.

And to this day, he still kept it.

#the owl house #toh #emperor belos #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane #i think it;s important to hold him responsible for the things he did do and not the things we can confirm he didn't #not everything involving his brother seems to come from some evil energy #he was a child with only his brother to take care of him the fact he cares about him and is this attached isn't honestly that shocking tbh #he just ended up taking it to a MAX #tho yeah if my only family suddenly upped and left and started a new life and left me i'd hold some resentment too #he's at fault for what he did but TTT def sheds more light on why he ended up feeling this way in the first place for sure

[bartxnhood]

middle of the night | c.b

colby brock x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

summary: sleep is almost nonexistent to you. a darkness takes over your mind, but colby is the light you need.

warnings: best friends to lovers, nightmare & gore scene, reader and colby being so oblivious to their feelings (JUST KISS ALREADY GOD.)

a/n: hi guys !! i’m not too sure what this is but i’ve been meaning to write for colby for a while so this is definitely something. i was slightly inspired by middle of the night by elley duhé (the song and the fic are not related in any way. the song just heavily reminds me of colby?) also, this one is slightly darker than my previous ones so read with caution. 🤍 enjoy !! feedback is appreciated.

requested open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you didn’t know when the nightmares started, but when they started they never stopped. they kept you up for hours sometimes, other nights you wouldn’t sleep at all.

it was agonizing, you could barely function during the day. you were beyond fatigued and drained. it has been like this for a couple of years now, and maybe you brought it upon yourself as you had messed with some pretty dark stuff when you were younger without the proper knowledge. you always joked to your friends that you were cursed, but as you grew older you started to believe it yourself.

when your close friends decided to take on the mystery of the paranormal you pretty much refused to have anything to do with it. as you were still dealing with the consequences of your younger self. despite your friends begs and pleads you still kept your walls up high. even the thought of going out with them to these locations made you sick.

but, one day kat came to you fully prepared for rejection but she wanted to rest her case.

“y/n, please. i don’t want to be alone” she begged, following you in the hallway of your apartment as you entered your room saying, “you won’t be alone, sam will protect you, and if he doesn’t colby is there for back up” katrina groaned, standing in your doorway. “you know what i mean. i don’t want to be the only girl.” you finally turned around and your eyes met with the girl. she was pleading silently. you ran your hands through your hair letting out a frustrated sigh,” fine. but if i get touched or I'm uncomfortable at all i’m leaving.” katrina grinned, and threw herself into your arms. “thank you so much, y/n.”

so, there you stood filming a video with your three best friends standing inside the conjuring house. you were doomed.

throughout the night, you felt like you were being watched. heavily. but still, you refrained from telling the guys knowing how excited they were to finally experience this. you couldn’t do that, not to colby at least.

ever since it was confirmed that they were going to the infamous house, he was so excited. you loved seeing that light in his eyes glow anytime you’d mention something related to the work he does. he loves what he does.

but, he loves you even more. he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were safe, especially in a place as dark as this home.

when he noticed your unusual behavior, he pulled you over to the side just to make sure you were okay. “are you sure you’re okay?” his hand lingered on your shoulder a bit too long, but you didn’t mind it. “i’m fine, it’s just a lot” you smiled, trying to assure his worries. “okay, well, if it’s gets to be too much let me know. i’m not going to force you to do this.” he was so kind to you. you nodded, “i know, now let’s go back before they start to miss us”

unfortunately, that night was when colby found out about your night terrors.

it was the early hours of the morning when you arrived back at the hotel, you bid goodnight to your friends and went to your room. both sam and cat, colby had rooms next to you so you were all close by.

you opened your eyes, finding yourself in a dark room. no sound, no light, no sense of anything in this room. just a void. you tried searching for anything just to get out. until out of the corner of your eye you see a tall creature lurking, its jaws unhinged comically, its teeth like a leech, beckoning you closer to its open maw, drool lolled out of its mouth, pooling at the floor.

“no..” you breathed, tears brimming your eyes as your breath thickened. “no!” you screamed. “y/n!!” you heard panicked screams calling out your name and your head whipped around seeing your friends. “no!! run!!” you yelled back, but it was far too late.

your friends scream in terror but make no effort to move as the beast grabs them, tearing into them, blood and entrails hit the floor, splattering onto your face. you were breathless, screaming colby’s name.

you jolted up, gasping for breath as your chest began to loosen. you were covered in sweat, tears staining your cheeks. the loud pounding at your door brought you out of your daze. “y/n?! it’s me, i heard screaming are you alright?” it was colby, you threw off the blankets and walked to your door, unlocked it, and then opened it to reveal a very worried colby.

when he first saw you, his gaze softened realizing that you were okay but then he saw you had been crying, your breathing was shallow and sweat pooled on your forehead. “what is it? what happened?” “nightmare” you croaked, he saw how shaken you were so he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“shh. you’re okay.” his arms wrapped around you, but his touch only made you cry harder. the fresh image of him being ripped apart was still fresh in your mind. “it’s okay, i’m right here” colby gently rubbed your back, feeling your heaves.

his heart was aching, seeing you in so much pain. colby didn’t expect you to tell him what happened in your nightmare, all he was focusing on was being there for you. “will you stay with me, tonight?“ your voice hoarse from the screaming, you pulled away from his chest looking up at him. “just until i fall asleep.” colby nodded, “of course. i’ll be right by your side”

colby stayed up all night, making sure that if you needed him he was there. plus, it gave him the excuse to admire you. every crease in your skin, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you dream. he wanted nothing more than to hold you tightly, and never let anything harm you again. even the nightmares, he would find a way to stop those. even if it killed him. he never felt like this around anyone, only you. it’s always been you.

that was the best sleep you’d had in years, it has been so long since you had felt this refreshed. you were in the best mood, and everyone noticed but you only said you had a good sleep.

when arriving home, your friends dropped you off at your apartment but colby insisted on walking you in. and who are you to deny him?

“thank you again for last night.” you set your bags on your sofa, and he shook his head. “anything you need, i’m your man” you smiled, “still, it was just a lot. so thank you” “of course, y/n” colby hugged you, squeezed you tightly then pulled away. “call me, text me, or just somehow get in touch with me if it happens again. i’ll be here.” “i’m serious” he added

colby was serious, he cared for you deeply probably more than he should but he didn’t care. “i will, i promise” you grinned. there it was. that grin. it always made him feel fuzzy inside. “good” he nodded.

your thumb hovered over colby’s contact, debating with yourself if you should call him or just try to sleep again. after fighting with yourself, you finally pressed call and held the phone to your ear.

“y/n?” he answered, his voice sounding groggy. you must’ve woken him up. “did i wake you up?” “yeah, but it’s okay. what’s up?” you felt bad, you didn’t mean to wake him up. “i’m fine, just forget about it.”

he stopped you, “was it about her nightmare?” you sighed, “yeah.” “do you need me to come over?” he offered. “no, i’m okay really. just scared me.” “i can come over, i don’t mind at all.” “colby..” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “i’ll be there in fifteen.”

then, it became a routine. colby spent most of his time at your apartment, not that he didn’t mind, he enjoyed it. it was an excuse for him to see you twenty-four seven. but with his presence, somehow the terrors stopped. when colby was around you felt relaxed, you could rest. you’d lay on the sofa while he sat and watched your tv, or you were in bed and he was right next to you.

at night, when you couldn’t sleep colby, was still by your side. if he was working on editing videos you’d sit up with him and have a movie on in the background. or, if the both of you had nothing to do, you would just talk. talk until the early hours of the morning about anything. from childhood memories to what you two wanted to do in your future.

but one night, colby finally asked why you never wanted to do the investigations with him.

“i just know how bad they can get” you shrugged. he nodded, “i agree, but we always take our precautions. you know i wouldn’t let anything happen to you, y/n” there they were again. those damn butterflies. you nodded, “i know, colbs” you took a deep breath, sitting up. you figured it was better now than never to tell him.

“when i was younger, i went out with some friends to this haunted place. it was dark. like, very dark. and after that…the nightmares started.” you picked at your nails. “it’s the same one, every time. you, sam, and kat. this…thing is there. it’s tall, black and it’s just inhuman. it tries to attack me. but you guys are yelling, telling me to run, and then it..” you pause, you felt heat rush to your cheeks and your eyes started to tear up. “it rips you to pieces..right in front of me..” your voice was breaking as you explained.

he pulled you into his arms as you teared up. “it’s okay. i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere.” he rubbed your back “i promise. you’re safe, i’m safe. i’ll be here, any time, any day, i will come to you”

colby became the one person you relied on, he became your rock.

then he disappeared. vanished. he should’ve said no to her, you needed him. he was supposed to be there, he saw your messages but he was too drunk to help you.

colby regretted that night, he saw your desperation but he couldn’t be there. she wouldn’t let him. he didn’t even know why he continued to see the girl, maybe he thought it was the only way he could ever get over you. but when you stopped texting he thought you were okay now. maybe you didn’t need him after all.

but he was wrong.

your night terrors we’re getting worse, some nights you didn’t sleep at all. you tried all kinds of medication to see if it would relieve your pain. but it didn’t. one night, the dream was bad. worse than it had ever been.

you tried messaging colby, calling him a few times but he wasn’t answering. maybe he was sleeping. whatever it was you’d be okay, you knew you needed to stop being dependent on him. you were a big girl, you had to learn how to deal with your issues.

“hey, kat..” you breathed, picking at your lips. “i know it’s kinda late, but have you heard from colby?” you decided to call up katrina in hopes she could ease your anxiety. “yeah, he said he was going out tonight. a date or something.” “oh..” you hummed, “is everything okay? you sound awful.” she stated. “yeah, i’m good. just needed to tell him something. thanks, kat. i’ll see you soon” you hung up the phone, tossing it on the bed.

why did your heart hurt so much? why did you want to cry your eyes out so badly? you never realized your feeling for colby.

oh god. you loved him. you were in love with colby brock.

no, you couldn’t possibly be in love with him. that’s stupid, you guys were just friends..right? friends took care of each other…friends shared a bed occasionally..right?

you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings, you couldn’t tell him now as he was actively seeing someone or dating. you slowly began to disappear from the picture. maybe if you weren’t around him so much those feelings would slowly fade.

you were wrong.

colby on the other hand was missing you. the date didn’t work out. he wasn’t sure why he even tried dating when he was head over heels for you. maybe he did it not knowing how you felt about him, but now he’s never going to know. you had disappeared, ignoring everyone’s texts and calls. it was very concerning, especially for colby knowing how your night terrors affect your daily life.

everyone started to notice your absence, and it was only a matter of time before sam and katrina persuaded him to finally check in on you.

“you’re the closest to her, colby. it would only make sense if you go” sam argued looking at the brunette boy standing above him. “listen to him, colby” katrina agreed. “guys-“ the girl cut him off. “no, colby. it’s bad. she called me one night when you were out, she sounded like she had been crying. her voice was hoarse. whatever is happening, it’s bad”

that was the push he needed. colby had to see you.

you haven’t slept in a very long time the nightmares have been worse than ever and it has been going on for an unhealthily long time. you look absolutely run down and it’s getting hard to function. some nights you just refused to sleep, it was better to stay awake than to meet the monster occupying your brain. you were sure you had memorized every crack and crevice in your ceiling. you lay lifeless on the sofa, the silence was deafening. you were miserable.

you weren’t sure how long someone was pounding at your door, but you had finally come to your sense and had to answer it. you rose slowly from your position already feeling a migraine forming.

you weren’t expecting to see colby, he was the last person who you thought would show up. “colby..” you uttered.

colby didn’t know what to expect when you opened the door. but, when he saw you he felt sick. your hair was tied up but messy, and your eyes were black and whites bloodshot.

“oh my god y/n…” he croaked, entering your apartment. you sighed, you couldn’t face him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. at your worst. “how much sleep have you been getting?” you shrug, hugging yourself. “an hour” he blinks “a night?” “…this week” the color washed from his face, and he felt dizzy.

he wanted to cry, hold you tightly and apologize for all the pain you’re going through. “why y/n? why are you doing this?” he reached for your shoulder. you reply, “the nightmares are too much. i can’t keep going thru that” he shakes his head, studying you. “why didn’t you tell me?” “i tried, but kat told me you were out on a date and i didn’t want to both you because this is my problem. i need to learn how to go deal with it on my own”

“ y/n l/n, i told you to come to me whenever you were struggling. i care about you.” you finally faced him, you didn’t know what else to say. colby continued, “out of everyone in my life i’ll always care about you most” you feel yourself beginning to tear up, the lady of sleep was taking a toll on your body.

colby gently pulls you into a hug. “i’m so tired. i just want to sleep without being scared” you cry into his chest. he soothes your cries. “you need to sleep, y/n.” you shake your head against his chest, “i cant.” “ill be with you, kay? like old times” he offered, you were reluctant but he lead you to your bedroom and got your bed ready. which hadn’t been slept in for a long while.

your head rested against colby’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. he whispers “i’m sorry. i should’ve been here” “not your fault” you hummed, closing your heavy eyes. he rubbed you back gently, you didn’t know if you were just extremely tired or if your feelings for colby were resurfacing again. “i love you, colby” you paused, “i’m in love with you colby brock.”

colby wasn’t able to get a word in, because when he tried to he noticed how your breathing evened out and you were already fast asleep. his heart was now racing, you loved him? you were in love with him? he smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head. “i love you too, y/n.”

#colby brock x y/n #colby x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock x you #colby brock #colby brock fic #colby brock fluff #colby brock angst #colby brock x reader #colby brock fanfic

[thatwriterchaotic]

Here it is. My first ever smut with none other than Daryl Dixon. For celebrating 100 followers, this is a gift from me to you. I hope you enjoy it. It is so damn long.

What Are We?...

Summary: Daryl had always been slow and careful with your relationship. Always wanting to treat you right. Make you the happiest person on the planet. But he also kept thinking about you in other ways. Maybe it was time to be a little bit more intimate with you.

Pairing: Pre apocalypse!Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: [18+], first time together, soft!daryl, man handling, fingering, oral, some hair pulling just very smutty jesus- be nice it's my first time writing like this 😂 this is honestly the longest thing I have written.

The first time Daryl laid his eyes on you was when you brought your car in. You needed your breaks checked and something was wrong with the engine. Daryl only had this mechanic job was because of Merle. Even though it wasn't Daryl's favorite thing to do. He had to make money some how. Damn idiot got himself back into jail again for another bar fight.

Daryl was distracted by you the whole time as he fixed your car. Just something about you had him mesmerized. The next time he saw you was at his friend Maggie's house party. Daryl only agreed to go because Glenn wouldn't stop bothering him. Not wanting to be the only guy at that party. Which wasn't true at all. He had gotten your name and number at that party.

You two had gone on several dates after that. Enjoying spending time with the other. Daryl would tell you about his days and the cars he fixed. You tried to following along as best you could with what little knowledge you had. Happy to see him open up and talk about the things he liked. You would respond back and talk about the things you liked, bonding over your similarities.

You both mostly kept to yourself. Not wanting to go out and do extravagant things. You both where the happiest staying inside. Watching movies together, cuddled up on Daryl's couch. His arms wrapped around your body. You always felt so safe with him around. Laying on top of him. Your head laying on his chest. Feeling his hand move up to play with your hair.

If you could stay like this all the time you would. But you both also enjoyed going out on rides on Daryl's motorcycle. Daryl loved the feeling of you sitting behind him. Arms wrapped around his torso like he was your life line. Nothing could separate the two of you. Always wanting to be together.

But Daryl secretly wanted to go further with you. Craving the feeling of your touch. The feeling of your skin against his. But he didn't want to cross a line if you weren't ready for it. Daryl was always very respectful towards you. Unlike his brother. He adored and loved everything about you. But what he didn't know was that you craved him too. Always catching him staring at you in that almost mischievous way. His bottom lip in between his teeth. That hungry stare in those dark blue eyes. Oh you thought it was the sexiest thing ever. Especially when he had his sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms. A few buttons undone at the top of his button up, showing just a little bit of chest hair.

Feeling Daryl move under you made you jump out of your thoughts. Glancing up at him, smiling softly. “Need me to move?” You asked wanting Daryl to be as comfortable as possible. Daryl shoke his head. “Nah, yer alright sweetheart. Just stay like that, all pretty for me” Daryl said sweetly to you brushing your hair out of your face. You felt yourself flush. Your man was such a flirt. Making yourself feel weak in the knees almost everyday. You smiled softly and leaned up to peck his lips

Feeling him kiss you back, with his soft lips. You loved the feeling of being so close to him. He radiated warmth and comfort. But it was only when you where alone together. Out in public, you mostly just held hands and light kisses. You understood that Daryl was more shy about it. And that's okay, whatever made your man comfortable and happy. You would wait for him no matter how long it took.

That's when you felt his hands go a little lower. The kiss turning more intimate. His tongue slipping into your mouth. Your hands starting to wonder as well. Moving from his stomach and up towards his chest. And finally towards those brawd shoulders, you loved so much. Gripping onto his shirt. Wanting to be even closer to him. Daryl eventually sat up again, you sitting down in his lap. Legs wrapped around his waist. Holding you so close, your chests touching each other.

Having to break for air, you slowly pulled away from Daryl's intense kissing. Stopping him before he leaned in for more. Having this adorable pout on his lips. “Did I do something wrong?” Daryl asked you with a concerned look in his eyes. You smiled and cupped his cheek. “No no you didn't do anything wrong, just- What are we Daryl?” You asked him looking into his eyes. Hoping you didn't scare him off for asking. “What ya mean? Yer my woman” Daryl said softly to you taking your hand and placed soft kisses on your palm.

You thought it was sweet, hearing him call you his. But you pulled your hand away. “Seriously Daryl, what are we? Am I really your woman if you can't even kiss me infront of our friends?” You said pushing this a little further. Wanting an answer from him. Daryl sighed softly and took your hands in his. “Alright, alright” He started looking into your eyes. A serious look on his face.

“I get nervous when we are out in public. You know how much I respect ya. Always wanting to make sure yer happy. I never want to over step or rush us into anything. I want us both to feel comfortable. Look I promise I'll start be more affectionate towards ya. Since I haven't been able to get you outta my head” Daryl said to you. Noticing his lip going in between his teeth. Gently biting down on his bottom lip. Oh, he was thinking of you. In all kinds of ways.

Feeling a bit flustered from Daryl's confession, you took your hand and caressed his jaw. Going down his neck and to the front of his chest. Fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Popping open the first two buttons. “You've been thinking about me?” You asked so innocently looking up at your man.

Daryl nodded and leaned closer towards you. Your noses almost touching.

“I think about you every night. The feeling of your skin against mine-” Daryl moved his hands to your waist, sliding you over to one of his legs. “How soft it feels against my calloused fingers, the sweet noises I could pull from you just from my touch” He guided you to start slowly grinding down on his thigh. Your hips going back and forth in a slow rhythm, making the most amazing friction between your legs.

You grabbed onto his shoulders for stability as you rocked on his thigh. God hearing him talk like that and the way your jeans rubbed up against your clit. It felt like heaven. You whimpered softly and never looked away from Daryl. Stuck in a trance from how good he was making you feel. “Ya like that sweetheart? Huh? Ya like how it feels to grind on my thigh” Daryl said to you pulling you in even closer. His hands never left your hips. Encouraging you to move them faster.

“F-Fuck Daryl, feels so good” You managed to whimper out. Speeding up the pace of your hips slightly. Daryl smirked and kissed your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and to your chest. You whined and wrapped your arms around his neck. Loving all the attention he was giving to you. He moved one of his hands from your hip and to the front of your jeans. “I'm gonna touch ya now, is that alright?” Daryl asked you first before popping open the button on your jeans. You quickly nodded your head yes. You felt his hand slowly slide down into your jeans and under your underwear.

You gasped when he gently touched your clit with his fingers. Circling it in just the perfect way. You kept rocking your hips against his thigh. Loving the combination between the two. You moaned and reached up, your fingers going through Daryl's short brown hair. Pushing him further into your neck. Daryl left several marks on your neck, claim you as his and no one else's. “Yer doing so well for me sweetheart, prettiest thing I've ever seen” He grunted as he decided to push you back against the couch. You whined when he took his hand away from you. “Don't whine now babygirl, I'll take care of you. Just gotta get undressed first” Daryl said softly to you.

Between harsh kisses, Daryl managed to get your pants off. Along with his shirt that you demanded he take off. Wanting to see more of his chest. That left you in your shirt and panties. It was a normal pair, just a lacey black thong. But Daryl loved it. He thought you looked sexy as hell. He got on top of you. Reconnecting your lips again with another passionate kiss.

You cupped his face and kissed him back. His tongue shoving into your mouth. But eventually he made his way down your body. Leaving trails of kisses down your stomach, to your thigh. Getting right in between your legs. Daryl propped your legs on his shoulders as he kissed your thighs. Leaving soft bite marks and hickeys that would definitely stay until morning. Until he got right where he wanted to be.”Tell me what you want me to do sweetheart, want me to eat this pussy huh? So wet for me aren't you” Daryl said looking up at you. His pupils where blown wide with lust.

You blushed and looked down at Daryl, loving the way he looked between your legs. “Please Daryl.. Please I want you so badly” you begged for him. Daryl slid your thong to the side and swiped his tongue from your slit up to your clit. Making a electrifying feeling shoot up your spine. You moaned and arched your back, Daryl's hold on your hips not letting you go anywhere. Your hands instantly going to his hair gently pulling his hair making him grunt into your pussy.

God he was really good at this. You couldn't stop moaning his name over and over again. He slurped at your clit flicking his tongue back and forth. That's when Daryl moved his hand down and slowly slipped his finger into you. Curling it just right. “Such a needy little thing for me, making such a mess” Daryl grunted as he kept going, loving the noises you made. Soon he slipped in another finger into you. Moving them at the same pace as his tongue. You felt a tight sensation start to build in your stomach. You tried to warn Daryl but it felt too good. Not wanting him to stop pleasuring you. You felt the snap in your abdomen, feeling yourself come undone. You moaned Daryl's name loudly tugging at his hair. Daryl continued, helping you ride out your high.

Panting heavily you laid back down on the couch. Trying to catch your breath from that intense orgasm. Daryl had a huge grin on his face. He gently laid your legs down and sat up. Licking his lips, he slipped his two fingers into his mouth sucking them clean. “You taste so sweet sweetheart, gonna make me want to stay in between your legs forever” Daryl said as he looked at you. Your hair was a mess and you had a coat of sweat cling to your body. Daryl gently rubbed your leg and fixed your panties.

“Just relax for me baby, we can go get cleaned up in a bit okay” Daryl said softly. Always wanting to take care of you. You noticed his jeans look rather tight. Wanting to help him feel good too. “But what about you love? Let me take care of you” You said almost begging him. He shook his head and smirked. “We can have round two in the shower just rest” He said as he laid down on top of you wrapping his arms around your waist. You gently ran your hands through his hair. God you where so lucky to have this man in your life.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #smut #my writing #writer #writers on tumblr

[bookishdream]

Stained Floors

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader Synopsys: Reader gets injured while running from Singh's men and Rafe helps her Warnings: blood, cursing, guns Disclaimer: Rafe is so much out of character in this one. Also I have literally no knowledge of biological aspect of a gun shot injury, but I tried my best.

The sun was setting, when y/n made her way to the patio that overlooked John B’s garden and a little marina that was a few yards away from the Chateau. She brought a mug with lukewarm tea closer to her lips while drinking in the last rays of the sun, before it would finally vanish. She loved the golden hour, the moment when the sun was meeting the horizon and the moon was making its way higher and higher. The day was incredibly hot and all she needed was the cold breeze that would be brought with the night. However, her moment of peace and silence was about to end in any minute now, since the rest of the Pouges were coming back from whatever mess they had gotten into. 

“Y/n!” She heard Kiara’s voice coming from the distance. She rolled her eyes and made a few steps towards the railing to see why her friend was yelling. When she laid eyes on Kiara and Sarah running for dear life, chased by two dangerously looking men, she dropped the mug and started running herself. Her feet hit the ground when she heard the first shot. Goosebumps raised on her bare arms, but she didn’t pay it more attention and put all of her will into moving her legs closer and closer to the marina, as to hide from the men. Kie and Sarah quickly caught up with her. Y/n heard another shot, this time nearby her. Then there was a third one, and she felt her body screaming in agony. Pain made her hesitate before taking the next step and Sarah had to grab her hand so that y/n wouldn’t fall. They found John B’s boat and fastly untangled the knot that kept the boat by the pier. Kiara as fast as she could, started the engine and soon they were putting more and more distance with their oppressors.

“Shit, shit, shit” The blond murmured, quickly assessing the seriousness of the wound. “Shit,” 

“Fuck, Sarah, what happened?” Kiara questioned when she motioned for them to get down on the boat’s floor. Y/n turned her head as much as she could in order to see the position of the two men. She couldn’t see them on the pier, which was a bad sign, but all she could care about was how fast she was bleeding out. 

“Y/n got shot,” the young Cameron replied, taking off her shirt and keeping the pressure on y/n’s hip. The shot girl hissed through her teeth at the sudden pain. “Oh, please, you survived worse than that.”

“Sarah, for the love of everything holy, I’ve never been shot,” 

“No, but you’ve kissed my brother and, in my books, it’s worse than getting shot,” Sarah remarked, trying to divert y/n’s attention from the pain of her shot wound. 

“Will you ever let me live that down?” y/n played along, because no matter how stupid it seemed, talking about something that wasn’t her blood getting out of her system was a nice distraction. 

“Hmm,” Sarah trailed off, “No.” With her last word, she pressed the clothing even harder to the other girl’s hip. 

“Fuck, you could’ve warned me,”

“Y/n, are you okay?” Kie asked, briefly looking into her direction, “Where should I dock?”

“Close to the city, I know someone who can help,” y/n replied, propping herself up on the side of the boat. 

“I could help you,” Sarah offered, her eyes gleaming with worry. She was chewing on her lower lip, just like she did whenever she felt stressed. 

“Sarah, love, you were the one being shot, not the one helping to patch you up,” y/n said, clenching her hand on the shirt and pressing even harder. She was still conscious, so that meant she could walk those miles to Tanneyhill.

“What if you drop dead on your way to this person?” Kiara asked, stopping the boat close to the pier. 

“You won’t get rid of me that easily. Go find the others and call me when y’all are safe, yeah?” she said, smiling slightly to mask her own worry for her state. “Now help me out,” 

Both Sarah and Kie took one of y/n’s arms and hauled her up out of the deck. “Be careful,”

“Always am,” she saluted and slowly made her way towards Tanneyhill. And towards Rafe Cameron, which she considered her last resort. 

“Bullshit,” she heard Kiara’s answer, however she didn’t bother with reacting in any way. 

Her steps were slow and she needed to pause her walk every so often. Her head started spinning from relief when she glimpsed the Camerons’ house, which she knew shouldn’t be occupied by anyone other than Rafe. Her steps faltered, but she still made her legs do those few steps that separated her from the house. 

When she reached the main entrance, she raised her hand to knock. Y/n started to think whether it was a good idea to come here and basically beg Rafe to help her. But she got her, in her state and she wasn’t about to turn around. Praying that the door would be open, she pushed it, leaving a bloody mark on it. She cursed, promising in her mind that she would get the stain off when she got better. 

“Rafe?” she asked, her voice echoed in the hall. Still pressing the shirt down to her lower abdomen, she made her way upstairs to Rafe’s room. Hoping he would be there. “Rafe?” she reiterated, opening his door that was slightly ajar. She looked around his room that looked as neat as it could; the bed was made, no clothes were laying on the floor and the window was slightly open, letting in the cold breeze from the outside. 

“One time I need him and he’s not here to get on my nerves,” y/n muttered to herself and immediately after congratulated herself on going crazy that fast. She heard a quiet tap and when she looked down, she noticed her blood had soaked in Sarah’s shirt and started dripping onto Rafe’s bedroom’s floor. She made her way into his bathroom, grabbing a bottle with whiskey on her way and undoing the button of her shorts. The bathroom was kept in light colors, white tiles and white marble counter with golden details. Y/n cursed again when she saw the open wound and blood leaking all around it. She took off her shirt and started looking around the room for a first aid kit. 

She quickly made a mental list of every step she needed to take, so she wouldn’t die of blood loss. First, she needed to take out the bullet and she was thinking clearly enough to take the longest tong in Rafe’s kit and spill some alcohol on it. How Rafe would have medical tongs in his possession, she didn’t know. She was grateful, though. She sipped the whiskey, counted to three and put the tongs into her wound. Tears sprung free from her eyes and she grabbed the counter with all the force she could dig. The curses were flying free out of her mouth as soon as she realized she couldn’t take out the bullet by herself. 

“Did you have to bleed out on all of my floors?” y/n abruptly turned her head towards the male voice coming out of the threshold. “I followed the dots and found you here, still bleeding.” 

“Shit, Rafe, next time I will be wiping it down as I go,” Rafe rolled his eyes at her words, but his gaze quickly turned serious when he noticed y/n’s state. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” He got closer and smacked her hands from her abdomen. “Are you stupid? Did you try to take out the bullet yourself? Do you wanna fucking die?” 

Y/n closed her eyes and stopped her hand from punching him in his mouth. Her head was pounding and she could feel her conscience slipping. “Just help me, please,”

Rafe’s gaze softened at her words, he crouched and delicately put his palm on her hip to see the wound better. “There’s no bullet here, y/n” 

“What?” she asked faintly, her eyes flattering open.

“No, don’t you dare close your eyes again.” Y/n nodded at his words, looking down at him. Her cheeks blushed at this particular position and she noticed a little smirk playing on Rafe’s lips. “Good, if you have the mental power to remember that, you have enough will to keep your pretty eyes open,” 

“Stop fucking flirting, Rafe. What do you mean there is no bullet?”

“I meant that the bullet hit you, yes, but it only grazed your side. On the other hand, you’re bleeding like crazy,”

“When did you get so smart?” she clenched her fists on the edge of the marble counter when Rafe touched her hip. 

“When I got shot myself,” he replied, taking the rubbing alcohol and a gaze. He soaked the material in the liquid and without any warning he pressed the gaze to y/n’s wound. 

“Rafe for fuck’s sake, you’re just like your sister,” she cursed, nearly kicking him. 

“I would’ve never thought that someone would compare me to her in this type of situation,” he smirked, wiping the dried blood around the wound. Y/n only rolled her eyes and she hissed again when Rafe lifted her bridal type. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused. 

“I’m getting you into bed, stupid. You need to rest,” he replied, gently laying her down on his soft, white, sheets. 

“I will ruin them with blood, Rafe,” 

“Let me grab the bandage,” after that he vanished into the bathroom again. Y/n sighed, her head was still hurting but she could see more clearly. When Rafe came back with the ligature, she silently sat up and let him do the work. Cameron put a big patch and stuck it to y/n’s wound then he wrapped her whole abdomen with a bandage and gently pushed her arms down, so she would be laying. 

He put down everything he had in his hands and made his way towards the other side of the bed. Rafe laid down, propping himself up on one of the bigger pillows. 

“I’m sorry I bled out on your floors,” she started, rotating so she would face him. He looked down at her and stretched one of his arms, indicating her to cuddle to his side. She clung to him and put her hand on his chest, inhaling Rafe’s scent. 

“It’s alright, I’m glad you’re okay,” y/n could feel his steady heartbeat under her palm. 

“I will also wipe the door clean,” she said a few minutes after they both fell into blissful silence.

“You bled out on the door, too?” Despite the question sounding serious, y/n could hear a pinch of humor in Rafe’s voice. 

“By accident,” she smiled at him, looking up to meet his blue eyes. She sobered down after a sharp pain radiated from her side. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” 

“Hey,” he used his free hand to lift her chin up, “I don’t care you marked the whole house with your fluids,” he shivered at his words. “I understand,” 

“Thank you, Rafe, for everything,” she came back to her previous position, with her head in the crook of his neck. 

“No problem, gorgeous,” Rafe gently kissed her forehead and with his reassurance, y/n closed her eyes. 

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #outer banks #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #rafe cameron

[lupinmoonlight]

oh my god, I literally ate your whole stories with remus.

I wanna take a request actually.. nothing special just jealous!remmy and smutty 😴

LOVE LOVE YOU

Ownership

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Your favourite professor (Remus Lupin) has been ignoring you. You try to get his attention by teasing him and flirting with a boy from your year. He keeps you after class and makes you pay for it.

Warnings - teacher/student relationship (student is an adult), smut, mentions of gagging, mentions of bruises, implicit mentions of choking, mention of safe word but not used, swallowing, pain, my grammar.

Note - OMG thank you so much for your comment and thank you for your request! I hope this is what you wanted. I love writing possessive!/jealous!Remus because it really contrasts with the comfort character I associate him with.

It had been a while since your favourite professor had paid any attention to you. You were missing him. You had grown used to being kept after class and invited into his "office" for "private lessons". But lately, he barely even looked at you. You knew the full moon was coming and he always lectured you about how he needed to keep you safe, so he tended to keep his distance during that time. But it made you roll your eyes at him. You hated it. You needed him. You craved him. 

If he wasn't gonna give you the attention you wanted, you decided that you were gonna make him. During that week, you made sure to wear your shortest skirts to class. You even started flirting with that Slytherin boy, Draco, who had been after you since the beginning of the year. You played his game, letting Draco walk you to class, letting his hand rest on your thigh during class, making sure your professor would see. As Draco whispered sweet nothings in your ears before class started, you were interrupted by your professor's soft yet commanding voice "Miss L/N, please see me after class." 

You felt your stomach flutter at his words. You tried to keep yourself in check for the rest of the class, but the anticipation was too much and you couldn't stop fidgeting and squirming in your seat. After what felt like an eternity, the class came to an end and everyone filed out of the room, leaving you and your professor alone. 

You remained seated, your heart beating out of your chest, as the tension in the room was palpable. You watched him as he calmly collected his notes and books from his desk, not even glancing in your direction. The silence hung heavy between both of you and you felt a knot forming in your stomach. 

He finally looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours. You recognized the darkness in them, and it went straight between your legs. You squirmed again, looking away, the intensity of it all already overwhelming you. With a flick of his hand, the door to his quarters slammed open and you knew exactly what you had to do.

Your heart raced, your newfound determination to make him jealous was soon overshadowed by fear. You swallowed hard and nodded, following him into his quarters where he led you straight to his bedroom. The room was a reflection of himself- warm, inviting, and filled with knowledge, but it was also a stark contrast to what you knew was about to happen. A faint aroma of chocolate and sandalwood lingered in the air and it was already intoxicating. 

As soon as he closed the door behind you, he pinned you to the wall, his hand tightly gripping your chin. His eyes were dark with jealousy and possessiveness. 

"What do you think you're doing, Miss L/N?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. 

You tried to pull away, but he held you in place, his grip on your chin tightening. "Answer me," he demanded. 

Your heart was racing with fear and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammered. 

He leaned in closer, his hot breath against your face. "Don't lie to me," he warned. 

"Remus I promise I-" you tried to explain, but you were interrupted by his hand travelling down from your chin to your throat, applying just enough pressure for you to feel his grasp but not enough to cause discomfort. He could feel your pulse beating rapidly beneath his fingers. 

He felt his jealousy grow stronger at your use of his first name. "That's professor to you. Do you understand?" he corrected you, his voice low and dominant. You nodded, not trusting your voice enough. 

"I don't like when little boys put their dirty hands on what's mine," he continued, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, and the possessiveness in his voice made you feel both scared and aroused at the same time. 

"I'm sorry, Professor," you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

He leaned in closer, his lips close to your ear. "You will be," he said, his grip tightening around your throat. "No one else can have you. You're mine. Do you understand?" he growled. 

"Yes, Professor," you murmured, keeping your eyes downcast. 

"Say it," he commanded.

"I'm yours," you whispered.

"Good girl," he praised, loosening his grip on you. "Now, I want you to undress for me, slowly. I want to see every inch of your body."

You hesitated but knew better than to protest. He watched as you stripped down, his eyes filled with a primal hunger. 

"Keep your eyes on me," he instructed. 

He held your gaze as you obediently followed his instructions, your body trembling with anticipation. 

"Kneel for me," he commanded as he started unbuttoning his trousers. The bulge of his arousal already evident. You obeyed without hesitation this time. He placed his fingers on your lips, teasing you with his touch. You could feel the tension building between the two of you, and you knew you were about to regret what you had done that week.

"Open your mouth," he said as he finally freed himself from his underwear. Your heart raced as you complied with his request. He placed his hand on the back of your head and guided you towards him. You eagerly took him in, moving your mouth up and down his length. His body tensed with pleasure at the feeling of your wet warmth. 

His grip on your hair tightened as he thrusted into your mouth. "I bet your little Slytherin friend would love to have your lips around him like that," he teased as he pushed himself further down your throat, making it difficult to breathe. "But you're mine, and no one else can have you like that." 

You gagged a little as he hit the back of your throat. You wanted to pull away to gasp for air, but he didn't seem to care and just pushed himself deeper, using you for his own pleasure. 

His pace became erratic and you could tell he was already close. He held your head firmly in place as he fucked your mouth and you had no choice but to submit to him. Finally, he pushed himself as far as he could and you felt a warm liquid hit the back of your throat. 

"Swallow," he commanded, looking down at your watery eyes. "All of it." 

You obeyed, eagerly swallowing around him. You felt a strange sense of satisfaction wash over you as you realized you had caused him to lose control like that. 

He pulled away from you, his eyes filled with lust. "I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice low and rough. You felt another shiver run down your spine at his words. You knew that he was dominant behind closed doors, but you had never experienced anything like this before. The thought of your actions making him go feral like that was both thrilling and terrifying. 

He pulled you up to your feet and dragged you to his bed. "On the bed, face down," he commanded. You obeyed without question, feeling a sense of anticipation building within you. You gasped as he approached you, his hands exploring your body with a possessive touch. "You're mine, Y/N. Mine to control, mine to use," he growled. 

You moaned softly, feeling a rush of arousal course through your body. He leaned down close to your neck and started biting you, leaving deep red bruises. He wanted to mark you, to leave his imprint on your body for everyone to see who you belonged to.

He ran his hands over your back, feeling the curve of your spine and the softness of your skin. "Now, I want you to spread your legs for me," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. 

Your heart raced as you complied, feeling a surge of desire as he positioned himself between your thighs. He took hold of your hips, pulling you close as he entered you with a deep thrust. You whimpered at the sudden intrusion and tried to squirm away from the sting of being stretched so quickly. "Stay still," he commanded as his grip became bruising. "You're mine to use, and I want you to feel every inch of me. Do you understand?" 

You nodded, unable to speak. You felt a mix of fear and arousal. You knew you could always use your safe word if you needed, but you were curious to see how far he would push your limits. 

Unsatisfied with your response, he tangles his hand in your hair and lifted it up from the mattress. "Answer me. Do you understand?" he repeated, pulling your hair hard. 

"Yes, Professor," you whimpered. 

He pushed your face down the mattress again and moved his hand back to your hips. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pulled out all the way only to push himself back in forcefully, his grip on your hips unyielding. 

"Such a good girl," he whispered, praising your obedience. 

You bit your lip, trying to control your breathing as he pounded into you. He set a relentless pace as he claimed you completely. "Take it, Y/N. Take everything I give you," he commanded, his grip on your hips growing even tighter. 

You moaned in response, feeling a rush of pleasure replacing the pain. You wanted to surrender completely, giving yourself to him completely. This is what you had been craving. With a sense of abandon, you let yourself be used and claimed by the man you wanted. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge with each thrust. "You're going to cum when I say you can cum." he said as he felt you tighten around him. 

A silky fabric that you recognized as his tie is wrapped around your neck and a harsh tug makes you gasp for air as your face is lifted from the mattress. "Good girl, Y/N. That's it. Take it all," he growled as he kept fucking you hard. 

You whimpered, feeling the tension building inside of you. You weren't sure you could hold it, the idea of him dominating you like that turned you on too much. 

Finally, he gave you the signal, and you let go. You cried out as you came, your whole body shaking with the force of it. Your mind went blank and your body went limp, unable to hold yourself anymore, but the tie around your neck and his hand on your hip kept you firmly in place. 

He continued to pound into you, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent as he felt his second release building up. Burying himself as deep as he could, he let out a deep, low growl, and came inside you. 

He held you there as he remained inside of you, admiring the marks he had left on you. He stilled for a moment, catching his breath and enjoying the warmth of your body around him. Slowly, he released his bruising grip on your hips, and pulled out of you, watching the evidence of your intimacy leaking out of you. A sense of ownership washed over him. 

He gently removed his tie from around your neck and started carefully cleaning you up with a damp cloth, making sure to be gentle with the more sensitive areas. Once you were both cleaned up, he helped you sit and pulled a soft, comfortable sweater of his over your head. You let his scent and warmth envelop you, slowly bringing you back down from your high. 

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

You nodded, but tears started streaming down your face, still feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable. He climbed back in bed and pulled you to his chest, his hand gently rubbing your back as he spoke to you in a reassuring tone. 

"It's okay, I've got you," he said softly. "Just relax for a bit." He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a square of chocolate, offering it to you. You took it without protesting, letting the bittersweet treat melt on your tongue. 

"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. 

You blushed at his words, but nodded because, yes, you got what you wanted: him. 

He chuckled softly and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there. The familiar scruff of his mustache tickled your skin and you felt whole again. You missed him. He held you close and you reveled in the warmth and safety of his embrace, letting yourself dift off into a peaceful sleep. 

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #professor remus lupin #professor remus lupin x reader #professor remus lupin smut #i got carried away #dom!remus lupin #smut

[iridescentdove]

i'm so sorry for being dead for so long ,, things go on at work and i have to prepare for some cosplays event, then be away for 2 weeks at spain—

requests are closed by the way! sicne people still keep sending me stuff 😭 don't worry, i'll open them once i'm free. for now, everyone stay safe and happy !! i can't wait to write again, because i have many ideas for all of you <3

spoiler: bsd series ✨️

because i've been gone for long, here's a small preview for you. also, the series has a bit of smut maybeee ...

it's a dazai x reader x chuuya.

yes, you heard me right. now get over here, you simps.

WASHED AWAY

INTRODUCING - A BUNGOU STRAY DOGS: SIREN! AU

...

It was a peaceful voyage in the luxurious cruise. You leaned by the docks, arms rested on the railing as you look out to sea. Well, this was boring. Your mother promised it was way more entertaining than staying home all day coped in a room.

She were so wrong.

Splashing came from below – seemingly, in an attempt to draw attention. One'd think it was just a dolphin, or of some sort. Until well, you heared talking.

— "Oi, Dazai. You'll be noticed, you know!"

— "Exactly what I want~? Hehe."

Two sirens ... casually swimming and following the cruise ship. They obviously had tails instead of legs – swimming around gracefully. They looked ... so handsome, in a way. A charming appearance that shouldn't even look real.

Wait–

SIREN?!

Much confusion was held. A siren? Wait – are you just dreaming? There's no way they're real, right? Yet your thoughts were proven wrong as soon as you saw two of them swimming just by the ship. Oh, how strange.

— "Hm? ..."

What a queer day. You decided to peer over just down by the railing, noticing their bickering and rested your arms by the cold metal, unsure what to do next.

They seemed to be ... whispering to one another, but you couldn't understand the foreign siren tongue. Aha joke, you did.

That librarian knowledge did not go to waste.

Soon, the two sirens looked back up – both staring in the direction where you were.

— "Hey ... look there. There's an attractive young mortal!"

— "Shall we... greet them, Chuuya~? Hehe."

— "I shall not refuse the first chance of entertainment, either."

Both sirens swam up as their tails moved fluidly, their sweet siren songs ... filling your ears.

They wanted you.

A lulling, sweet song – having enchanted the very core of one's own being and slowly leading to the predator. It was as you thought. Despite how tempting it was, you really didn't want to drown, do you?

So! You decides to back off. With your mouth shut. What a brave soul. You used every fiber of your being to resist the song, finding it praisable that you'd have read knowledge of sirenhood beforehand ...

They didn't stop. It became louder. And louder. And louder – it soon came that your own will was slowly breaking apart. They needed you. To listen.

— "This mortal is quite strong ... but they will succumb soon."

— "Awe ... They can't resist forever~"

— "Especially with two sirens."

No.

Two male sirens.

They were seducing you.

Seduction. That rang in your ears. Well, heavens me! It's been quite a while since you've ever heard of that. Ever since you were once seduced by a student in junior high school and somehow ended up shoving him into a broom closet filled with puke and cobwebs since he wouldn't shut the fuck up.

Obviously that was Nikolai.

Slowly, you panicked. Trying to find a way to escape this dire situation, in any means necessary. It may as well be hopeless, but you couldn't just succumb to your end. You kept your mouth shut, trying not to say anything ...

They swam towards you, slowly. Their voices ... singing, still. You wanted their voices. And their words. And their body. And their touch.

In fact – oh, why not.

Well ... you just wanted them.

You opened your mouth. They were basically ready to spring up and grab you at anytime. They were an inch away from the ship, where you stood. They were smiling, as usual – it seemed.

Give in to them, (Y/N). It's just that easy.

...

Oh, fuck it.

— "I ..."

This wouldn't have been preferred, but yet again, this is you obviously – (Y/N). The most lucky and yet (usually) stupidest bitch we know. Ah, look at that. Here it comes. You take a deep breath, clenching your fists.

She notices Chuuya's gleaming, steely blue irises staring at with that sultry look.

— "... Sir ... those are fanfiction blue orbs."

Silence came afterwards.

Chuuya was stunned at this comment. He didn't stop singing, though. If anything, he was more interested in singing and seducing you. He was a siren.

But at some point, he was at a loss for words. One simple question was in his mind, bugging him.

What in the flip-fucking fish is fanfiction?

Dazai had stopped singing as well. He was staring at you, raising an eyebrow – he looked amused, yet concerned? He looked like he was jaw dropped, to be honest. He seemed to be he was in disbelief. What the f-

— "Those ... are what?"

Not much of a moment later, you replied to the brunette.

— "Don't smirk, fishboy. That's cringe."

With that, it took all your might to salute and speed walk away ... whereas, when you finally made it inside – you shut the cruise doors loudly. Sad. Now they have to wait for you to come out again ... which might never be in a hundred years.

In the end, the silence protruded as soft giggles were heard. Until, the two sirens were full fledged in laughing – mostly because you called a siren a ... fishboy.

— "A fishboy~? Aren't you precious."

— "But don't worry. This is the start of a great entertainment. This is fun, Dazai."

You could hear them singing outside the door.

— "You can't keep us out. We always find a way – even if we have to break into the cruise ship and drag you to the sea."

They were so fucking petty.

—————————————— ♡♡♡

aaaand done! it's a long preview, huh? SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME I DID MY BEST.

it'll be out once i'm no longer on hiatus and have finished all seven requests in my inbox lmfao. it's not much at all, but i only post when i get a burst of energy so ...

see you all soon! <3

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #armed detective agency #dazai osamu #port mafia #decay of angels #siren au #bsd siren au #chuuya nakahara

[annaphoenix1994]

You're My Heaven

Masterlist

After knowing Simon for eight years, you two almost fell into a romantic relationship. But given the risks involved as well as Simon's deep fear of losing you, you two mutually agreed to stay close friends. His feelings never foundered for you and neither did yours. Unfortunately, it took your fatality to make Simon realize that he wished to take the risk of having you as his lover instead of having to tell you he loved you before you died.

Author's note: This is nothing close to romantic, unfortunately. I've been very depressed for the past few weeks and I felt like writing about something sad may help me overcome this. Believe me, I cried when I finished this and while I was composing this, so I'm sorry in advance. 

This prompt is also heavily inspired by the show 1883 and if anyone has watched it, you can picture exactly how emotional this will be. If you haven't, I highly suggest you check it out! You can watch it on Paramount+ or if you don't want to pay for a membership (like me), you can watch it for free on myflixer.vc.

I'm sorry for breaking y'all's hearts! I've cried every single time I've opened this page to edit it!

*

Eight years. 

Eight longs years you've been incorporated with what was now Task Force 141. Having many operations under your belt, another accomplishment to you was being able to know Ghost - Simon - on a personal level, more personal than even his closest comrades have. 

Of course, your relationship was simply platonic. At one point, you both had expressed your emotions between each other, but given Simon's deep fear of losing someone he loves for having experienced it before, you both agreed to stay close in a platonic way versus a romantic way on mutual terms. 

He couldn't lie, he always was immensely attracted to you - how you always seemed to be his own personal beacon for emotional and physical support whenever he needed it. 

Just like he was for you. 

Outside of the military, you unfortunately had nobody waiting for you at home. No family, no close friends, no partner, nothing. 

A part of Simon wondered if that's why you stayed in the military for so long as your comrades, especially him, became a sort of comfort for you that you both knew you didn't have when you were on leave. This knowledge killed him the second year he knew you, leading him to eventually finding himself taking you out to places to help fill the void on your loneliness while you both were on leave. 

He wanted to have you as his life partner so bad, but due to his dark history at no fault of his own, he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to one of his enemies, even though the likeliness of it happening again was slim to none. 

But he figured that if he could keep you as a close friend, you'd be safe to be in his personal life without having that superior personal connection like lovers would. 

Even though you two occasionally did things as lovers, but nobody else needed to know that. These acts included gift-giving on birthdays (yes, Simon eventually unveiled a piece of his private life by telling you his birthday), holidays, and randomly. Simon was the type to get you a gift while on leave by simply seeing something he thought you'd like, even going as far as getting you flowers when you were lonely. You'd go to a movie together every now and then, went to cafes together, and just simply would be in each other's presence. 

There was no denying that it was lovely. 

Everything seemed euphoric...

Until you had gotten stabbed by an enemy with a filth-inducing and rusted blade, tearing into your liver like a scorched knife to a brick of butter. 

It was completely unexpected to you as the fight was not as close as you'd expect. Adrenaline kept the pain away as the blade was fully sheathed inside of you, keeping your fight with your enemy until Soap had come to your rescue as Ghost was on his way from overwatch. 

A mission gone wrong and not accordingly to plan. 

"Fuck," You groaned, looking down to see the knife still sheathed into your side, cupping your hands around the handle as the adrenaline wore off. 

"Don't-" Soap blurted, stopping you from pulling out the knife. "Don't pull it out. Price, we need evac immediately. Have a medic on site." 

"Copy that, Sergeant. Are you injured?" 

"No, Y/N is." He breathed a reply, knowing that Ghost was going to be livid once he found out you were injured again, not that it hasn't happened before, just that he wouldn't know the extent of your injuries until he was able to see you. 

 "Sitrep?" 

"Ghost, stay on overwatch for enemy activity until this dies over," Price answered. "The Sergeant and I will get her to the exfil site. Sergeant Garrick will accompany you on overwatch." 

"Yes, sir." 

After nightfall, Ghost and Gaz returned to their temporary safe haven for the next few weeks - a base nowhere near civilization, something that could be viewed as both a sanctuary and hell on earth. 

In your case, this was hell on earth for you. 

"Ghost, Gaz," Price called from the nearby tent. "A word on recon?" 

"It's all clear, sir," Gaz replied, nodding. "No enemy movement detected after you left." 

"Good. Ghost, come with me." 

Simon heaved a breath, knowing that the look in his Captain's eyes was nothing but pleasant. "How is she?" He questioned. 

"Medic removed the blade..." Price answered, dread coating his voice. 

"That's not what I asked, Price." 

"She's stable, for now. The nurse reported a slight fever and has her on an IV drip now, but he can't get the medication he needs from a doctor for another week." 

"So, what does this mean?" 

"I-I don't know, Simon-"

"Can I see it? The blade?" 

Price nodded as he escorted Ghost towards the medical tent, entering to frown at the sight of you on the bed, eyes lazily open while your aching body lay on the bed. "How're you feeling?" He spoke softly at you, standing next to the bed and curling his gloved index finger against the top of your hand. 

"It doesn't hurt," You replied, reassuring him of a soft smile - a smile he grew to adore with how your dimples caved in on your cheeks and your innocent eyes peering up at him - a look on your face that made his heart swell at the sight alone. "Not at all." 

"Still on the adrenaline high, love," He breathed a chuckle as his eyes moved down to where your wound was, exhaling a deep breath through his nose at the realization and needed to urgently seek for reassurance - reassurance from anyone but you right now. "Excuse me." 

Exiting the tent, Simon laid eyes on Soap who had been eating the last of his MRE, "Sergeant." 

"L.T?" 

"I need to ask you something." 

"Sure." 

"How bad was it?"

Soap frowned, "Bad enough. The nurse got the blade out and cauterized it, but without the proper medicine we need with the doctor, I don't know how long her liver can take it-"

"Her liver?" Ghost scoffed, refusing to accept the fatal fact. 

"With as close as that blade was, we're sure it hit one way or the other," Soap frowned, shaking his head. "I just hope that surgeon can get here fast." 

"What's his status?" 

"We don't know yet. The nurse is still waiting on him to signal back-"

"Why can't he call?" 

"We're remote. You know this. Off the grid unfortunately. We have to use what we got." 

Ghost shook his head, still refusing to believe what he had just heard as he turned on his heel to lay his own eyes on the blade itself, only to meet Price halfway as he held the weapon of discussion in his hand. "Let me see it." 

He frowned, opening his hand to reveal the knife that will fatally take your life. 

And in this case, you don't have the luxury of flying to a hospital. The base is off the grid, which had its benefits, but nothing prepared anyone for this. A helicopter had to be signaled in by flares - and that's if the helicopter was within range to see the signal. Comms barely could be understood, and emails/phone signal was unheard of since the team arrived.

With limited flares on the base, your death was slowly on the horizon and your clock was ticking out, but you just didn't know it yet. 

But God, Simon did. Along with the rest of the team. 

They just didn't have the heart to tell you. 

Your eyes held a life in them that they wished they could see, your smile held a vibrance that they kept close and dear to their hearts, your laugh brought them so much joy, even if your laugh distracted yourself from your own depression.

"It's filthy, Simon." Price frowned, handing the Lieutenant the knife in question. 

"But she's young. Soap said they got it out quick. She's so strong." He replied in denial. 

He didn't want to believe it.

Simon bowed his head, shaking it subtly, "She's going to die, isn't she?" 

"Don't think that way, Simon-"

"I'm a simple man, Price. I'm through being delusional." 

The Captain sighed through his nostrils, "I don't know how long she has. We have to wait until we can hear for an air lift and get her to a hospital. She doesn't have a fever now, but if she develops a fever and we can't get any help, I would guess maybe... a week."

"A bloody week," Simon grumbled. "Alright." 

Price knew that there was more than just a friendship going on. Perhaps what he would call a "mutual understanding of emotions." 

Either way, Price knew that Simon had very strong feelings towards you just like you did for him. 

Price hesitated before he put his palm on the Lieutenant's shoulder, doing his best to comfort him in what was to come, "I have faith in her recovery, Simon. She's young and so strong-"

"And she's the light of my life, Price. She fills a void in my soul that I didn't know I had," Ghost replied, his voice low as his heart broken. If it wouldn't have been Price he was talking to, he would have never admitted that you meant so much to him without any hesitation. "She... She's going to die." 

"Don't you dare, Simon-"

"She's going to die and it's going to tear me apart," He replied, his heart broken but his voice firm. Price could see it in his eyes that if he was alone, they would be full of tears, but instead, his brown irises were surrounded by a light shade of pink. "And if I don't accept it now, she's going to die in some hospital with some doctor doping her up until she can't see straight because it'll be too late. And I would have robbed her. She needs to see every sunset and sunrise with those big dreamer eyes."

"And what should we do when she starts asking how everything is looking?" Price scoffed. 

"We will lie to her and tell her she is fine. I need to let her look at this world the way she does, no matter how cruel it is." 

Price bowed his head and cleared his throat, fighting back tears of his own. He saw you as a daughter of his and was there from the very beginning - admiring how you were the only one who was able to break Ghost of his attitude, how he was never as stern with you as he was the others, how he always seemed to be somewhere alongside you until you got your bearings to take actions on your own, how he taught you how to fight better, and how he even taught you how to make a tea that suited your taste just so he could have an excuse to have you join him for a cup in the morning. Although Simon would always deny it when Price asked, the Captain knew that his best Lieutenant was very much in love.

And he even gave him permission to seek you in romantic interest, as long as he kept it under wraps to avoid altering your careers. 

"Then what're you going to do?"

"Where we bury her is where I stay, but not here. She needs to be where I know I can visit and just be some mound of dirt in the middle of this place."

"I'll find a place-"

"No, I need to find a place. By the grace of God, I will find a place." 

The Captain nodded, "I'll leave you to take things how you want, Simon. Just remember one thing,"

"What's that?" 

"Don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Ghost nodded, watching Price walk away before he made his way into the tent to sit by your bedside. 

"Leave it to me to get myself stabbed in a gunfight." You giggled, watching his gaze strike into you before sitting down on the nearby chair. 

"Yeah," He sighed. "You have an act for getting yourself in trouble." 

"You always tell me that." You scoffed. 

"Do I need to remind you how you had to call me to bail you out of jail for getting into a fight at the market?" You could tell he was arching his brow under his balaclava. 

"You remind me enough," You rolled your eyes. "You weren't there, so you don't know the whole story!" 

"I know plenty, love. What do you want to eat?" 

"Oh, do I get to choose a four course meal? I need to get injured more often."

"Sure, you have three excellent choices of MRE's. You can choose from chicken alfredo, spaghetti and meatballs, and chicken soup. I'll even be nice and offer you my beef stew." He scoffed, his heart swelling once he had heard you laugh at his sarcasm. 

I'll miss your laugh.

"And I'll be nice and let you keep your beef stew and just have chicken soup. It always makes me feel better." 

"Aren't you a sweetheart. Would you rather try to eat now or before you go to sleep?" 

"I'm feeling pretty tired. I think I'd rather try to eat now so that I fall asleep on a full stomach." 

"You got it, love. I'll be back. Care to have someone to eat with?" 

"You... You've never eaten with me before while on duty?" You furrowed your brows, suddenly confused. Even when you have gotten hurt in the past, Ghost never sat alongside you while you were in the medic's tent. 

Ever. 

You watched him huff, "I could've lost you. I wasn't there to keep it from happening. I just... realize that it could've happened at any moment and I don't want to take it for granted." 

He was waiting for you to respond, growing uncomfortable at how you stared deeply into his eyes, knowing you were searching for a lie. But thanks to his balaclava, he was able to conceal his true expression behind the nylon and harden his gaze to make it look like he was being honest with you, which is what you'd known him for, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint and it nearly drove you to ask him what he was hiding from you. 

"Okay," You smiled weakly. "Well, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." 

Once Simon returned, he held two MRE's and two bottles of water in his hands, setting them on the side table before helping you sit up. "Still feeling ill?" 

"I feel like I might be getting a fever," You breathed. "My head hurts and I'm burning up." 

"That comes with the territory, love," He assured you, his heart breaking at the worrisome condition that began to progress. "You'll feel overheated after a stab wound." 

"I'm sure you have a lot of experience in that."

"You should know I do," He breathed a chuckle while his right hand splayed between your shoulder blades while the other let you grab it to stabilize yourself while he helped you sit up in the bed. "Been in your position many times." 

"And you still never took off that damn mask." 

"Know me so well." 

I know you too well, Simon, you thought. When I looked into your eyes, I saw your worry. I saw how you desperately tried to keep a straight face behind that mask, but I've grown to know your eyes - the window to your soul - and I could see that your soul was somehow more broken than I remembered. Like you were already mourning me, looking at me like you knew it was coming. Maybe I'm overthinking like you always say, but the velocity of my injury is nowhere near as simple. You knew stab wounds and their effects better than any medic after being stabbed as many times as you have. You knew something I didn't, but a part of me was too scared to ask.

"You sore?" 

"Very," You sighed. "Will it hurt this bad tomorrow?" 

"The next day is always the worst." 

"What about the day after?" 

"That part's a mystery." 

*

Four days. 

Those four days were heated for you as you had developed a fever through the forty-degree weather of the rugged terrain of Alberta. 

"Can you take me to the creek?" You asked, your voice hoarse with beads of sweat along your forehead and brow, your skin hot to the touch when Simon removed his glove to press the back of his hand to your forehead. 

"If you're thirsty, I can go get you some water-"

"No, Simon," You shook your head. "I'm burning up and I want to lay in the water." 

"Love, it's forty degrees outside and it's only noon. You'll get sicker-"

"No, it'll stop the bleeding," You breathed, realizing that your health was deteriorating by the horrible gift of time. "My people would do this to their tribe when others got sick. It helps with the fever." 

"Your people?" 

"I'm a descendant of the Crow Tribe close to Paradise Valley, Simon. I've told you this," You breathed a weak laugh. "I thought you didn't forget anything!" 

"I don't, love," He assured you, gently wrapping his arm around your waist to help you walk while your arm curved around his shoulder to stabilize yourself. "I remember that story of how you used to mark horses for the relay." 

"If only those markings would work on me," You breathed a laugh. "They wouldn't have let me get worse. I just want this fever to go away so I can get better." 

"We all do," He frowned behind his balaclava. "But you will. Did you eat what I brought you this morning?" 

"Barely." 

You whimpered as he helped you to the nearby creek. He saw the blue bags under your eyes but your eyes still held that familiar light he grew to love over time. "Are you sure you want to step foot in this?" 

"Yes, Simon." 

He nodded before he set the blanket he had brought with him aside on the dry ground before watching you discard your shoes, grasping his hand as he helped you into the shallow water, admiring how you weren't bothered with the temperature of the water as he winced at the sensation of it seeping through his boots. "Help me lay down?" 

"You're crazy, love," He shook his head, thinking that you only wanted to soak your feet into the water. "Are you sure?" 

"My people have done this for hundreds of years," You scoffed. "I'll soak in here until I can stop the bleeding, then I'll go into the tent and start to make steam." 

"Alright, just tell me what I need to do." 

"Help me lay down and just keep me from floating away, okay?" 

He smirked behind his balaclava, "You won't float away anywhere on my watch." 

"Copy that." 

Your lip quivered as you lay in the freezing water, doing your best to relax and focus on steady breathing to lower your body temperature as well as stopping the bleeding that began to progress over the last couple of days. You looked up to see Simon's concerned gaze down on you before you lifted up your shirt to show the wound that would soon be responsible for taking your life. He continued to stay crouched next to you while you searched his eyes for how he looked at your wound, looking for some type of reassurance from your own doubts. 

I feel different now, Simon. I look to you for answers when I don't know them myself. Aside from myself, you've become to be the only person who knows me just as good. And when I looked at your eyes when you looked at my wound, I saw nothing. I saw no sign of relief nor worry. It was blank. You watched the blood drain from my liver and had no words of reassurance that I was looking for, but yet still told me that I was going to get better. My soul then felt stripped away from my body, like it had been loose and disconnected since it happened. I then looked up at the sky and somehow felt that I was back in my tribe from a hundred years ago. I studied into your eyes, Simon - looked deep into them. The more I looked, the more I saw what I wouldn't expect. I saw fear in your eyes.

That's when I knew...

I was going to die. 

After fifteen minutes, you decided that you wanted to get out and begin making your steam in the confines of your tent. After silently whispering a native prayer, you were unaware that Simon's heart broke every time he heard a weak whimper leave your lips. 

"You know what I'm afraid of the most about dying? It's being forgotten in some grave or on the side of a hillside somewhere." 

"Nobody is going to forget you, Y/N," He corrected. "And you're not dying." 

"You look at me like I'm dying." 

"I look at you for what you are, love. You're the most important thing to me on this planet and it comes with a lot of worry just in case you haven't noticed." 

Once he had helped you lay down, he let you be alone like you had requested once the steam began to grow, gently laying a blanket over your shoulders before he assured you that he would be outside by the fire, taking some time for himself. 

He listened closely for any signs of distress, occasionally hearing a native prayer every few minutes. 

"How is she?" Price asked as he and Soap met him to offer any comfort for their comrade. 

Ghost shook his head at them, "There's swelling in her liver. It either heals or it fails. Any word on that bird?" 

"We've sent signals all week," Price sighed. "We only have four left. We're going to shoot one tonight and another in the morning." 

"Roger," Ghost nodded, looking at the ground between his knees. "All I can do is hope and pray... If that even means anything." 

"It means something, L.T.," Soap encouraged. "She'll be alright." 

"One way or the other." 

"Are you sure there's swelling in her liver?" 

"I cupped my hand over it, Price," He sighed. "Fresh blood came out of that wound, not old." 

Suddenly, their heads turned to look at you stumbling out of your tent, a blanket covering your shoulders, your face drenched with sweat and tears, a thin stream of clear snot leaving your nose as Simon helped you ease down on the log next to him. "Feeling any better?" 

You paused, closing your eyes as your face scrunched to produce more tears, "You lied." 

He looked straight ahead, nodding and facing the accusation as Price and Soap both decided to dismiss themselves. "I'm sorry." He managed to respond, his heart shattered into a million pieces before he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him as you uncontrollably sobbed. 

"I'm dying!" 

"I know, love," He closed his eyes, using every ounce of his being to hold back the tears threatening to brink his eyes. "I'm sorry."

You buried your face into his chest that was rid of his tactical vest, smelling his natural scent of musk and sweat while your other arm reached out to grasp his bicep while his left arm clasped the outside of your knee, keeping you close to him as you sobbed. "Can you make me a promise?" 

"Anything?" He replied, his voice broken. 

"I want to choose a spot." 

His eyes closed again at the sound of those words leaving your lips, his heart breaking even more knowing that he had to acknowledge that promise. He owed you that much. "You choose a spot and I'll make sure you get there." 

He felt you nod against his chest as you wept, "Why did you lie?" You asked, feeling a certain calmness to his heartbeat. 

"I didn't want to rob you of your outlook on life by being hooked up to monitors and being so drugged up until you couldn't see straight. You've outlived me - you've outlived all of us. I'm thirty-two years old and you've out smiled me, out loved me, and certainly outlived me. It would've been selfish of me to have you suffer when you're the least deserving of any sort of suffering. I lied to you to keep that worry off of your shoulders because as much as it breaks my heart to see you like this, it would've hurt more to have to tell you that you were bound for an awful fate when we couldn't get a bird out here to take you to a hospital. I know you, love, and it would've worried you to death." 

You sniffled, "I never thought I'd be happy that you were unfair to me." 

He barely smirked as his hand snuck up to cradle your head, keeping your face close to his chest as you two sat there for what seemed like hours. 

Once you had accepted your demise, you looked through your dry eyes to look up at Price, "Helo saw our flare. They're inbound."

Simon nodded, "It's time to go, love." 

You slowly loosened your grip on him as he stood to his feet, offering you his hand while Price gladly stood on the other side of you, letting you use them as a crutch as they escorted you to the medic's tent, gently setting you in a provided wheelchair to help ease your pain. You didn't see it, but a tear slipped from Simon's eye as he grabbed your small duffel bag that contained every personal item you were allowed to carry with you on your deployment.

He looked down at you to ensure your blanket was still snug around your shoulders as he began to push you towards the small tarmac big enough for a single helicopter. Your eyes filled with fresh tears when you saw Soap and Gaz waiting for you. 

To tell you goodbye. 

"Y/N, it was a bloody good time being by your side." Gaz forced a smile, his heart breaking too once he saw your condition had gotten worse. 

"I can't remember a sunset I've seen that's been as pretty as you," Soap teased, knowing it always got under Simon's skin once he learned that he wasn't the only one to find you attractive when you first met. "You'll always be the one that got away." 

"Johnny, you gotta be pretty damn good looking to think the one you never had got away from you." You giggled, making he and Gaz laugh. 

"Always got the jokes, I see." 

"Go back to Scotland, you pretty son of a bitch." 

"Aye." 

They both pat your shoulder as you passed by, their touch lingering just a bit more as they realized it was the last time they'd see you. 

"Nikolai, take them where they need to go!" Price shouted from the intense sound of the chopper's blades. 

"Yes, sir!" 

Both Price and Ghost helped your weak body into the helicopter, Ghost putting on a set of protective hearing muffs. 

"It's been a pleasure, sweetheart." Price smiled at you, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek with his gloved thumb. 

"Thank you, Price. I'll see you later?" 

He knew what this meant, and it broke him entirely to realize her statement. "I'll see you later." 

Blinking away his tears, Price took a final glance at you before closing the chopper door. "Love, you need to tell me where we're going so I can tell him." 

"Paradise." You smiled weakly, knowing exactly that Simon would know where you were meaning. 

Paradise Valley - a home you had purchased years ago to stay frequently every other year or so. A place to soon call a permanent home once your time in the service was over. 

A new start. 

Turns out, a new start wouldn't be in your near future. 

Paradise Valley, Montana

"This is a nice place, love. Shame you never invited me." Simon chuckled as he effortlessly carried you onto the front porch of the house bridal style. 

"Well, consider this your invite," You sighed. "Not here, though." 

"Where to, then?" 

"Out the back. There's a spot there." 

He nodded, carrying you through the small house until he reached the backdoor, his eyes widening at the gorgeous scenery before him. "Down there." 

He followed where her finger pointed, seeing a small creek that ran through the thick forest. With ease, he carried you there, waiting for you to point to where you wanted to be set down, effortlessly easing you down onto the thickest grass he had seen for late fall in his entire life, laying down beside you and tossing his balaclava to the side. 

This was amongst the handful of times you had seen his bare face. 

"How's this?" He whispered. 

"Perfect," You hummed. "Isn't it beautiful?" 

"That it is." 

"What's your favorite memory?" 

"Don't have many, love," He sighed. "I'd have to think far about a favorite." 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"How come you never sang to me?" 

"What?" You giggled. 

"Don't think I don't remember how you used to sing to Soap when he got a cold last year. I have to admit it now, I wish it was me that was sick just so I could hear it better." 

"Well, I also told you that I'd sing at your funeral, but we both see how that turned out." 

He squeezed you a bit tighter after that statement, "Please?" 

"You'll have to remember what you heard that night, Simon," You giggled. "What about another memory?" 

"Probably when you and I saw the elk in Poland. How you told me how your tribe viewed elk and then you told me some story on how they used to refer as horses as elk dogs. I always remembered that for some reason." 

"Do you want to know what I used to call a horse?" 

"Iichiile," You answered with a weak smile. "I always wondered what Heaven would be like, you know? I always thought it would be something like this: quiet with nothing but the sound of water and trees, maybe a few horses or bison running around and hearing the wolf at night. But sometimes, Heaven can be seen in a person, too. A person who takes away your personal Hell." 

He nodded, "I agree." 

"Are you comfortable?" 

"That's not a concern of mine right now, love." 

You sighed, relaxing into his arm that was under your head like a pillow as he lay behind you, his other arm draped over the side of your hip away from your fatal wound, keeping you as close as he could without causing you any pain. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep." 

"Fall asleep, love." He whispered, exhaling shakily through his nose as his thumb rubbed circles against your clothed hip. 

A couple of hours later, you two had ended up falling asleep briefly before the evening chill had woken you up. Fluttering your eyes open, they seemed to sparkle once they laid upon a palomino horse grazing on the other side of the creek, its white mane and tail blowing in the soft wind. Once its head rose from the grass, you could have sworn you had seen a red circle on its chest.

War paint meaning "strong heart." 

"I know what it is now." You whispered. 

"Hm?" Simon replied, his voice low and hoarse. 

"I know what it is. Look," You whispered, nodding your head towards the palomino. Simon saw it, grinning as he could agree it was a beautiful sight, but he saw just a normal horse. No war paint, just its magnificent golden coat. "She's not wild, but has a strong heart for grazing alone." 

"Do they not usually?" 

"No. They're herd animals." 

"I didn't know that." 

You slowly turned to lay on your back, taking a last look up towards the sky as it was an orange and purple hue that sat comfortably behind the mountains. Briefly, you thought of one of your favorite songs: the fiddle version of Zach Bryan's "Something in the Orange". It fit perfectly.

"You're my Heaven, Simon." You whispered, your eyes beginning to fill with tears as you looked at his bare face. 

"You're mine too," He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, savoring the last bit of your natural warmth, knowing he was going to miss it. "I'll hate myself forever for not making you mine sooner. I could've kept you from this." 

"It was meant to happen like this," You assured him. "I've always known I was yours, even though you were always so stubborn-"

"Remember, Simon, don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Price's advice rang constantly throughout his mind. Now's the time, Simon. 

"I love you." 

He watched as a tear fell from your eye, using his hand to wipe it away, "Don't do that, love." 

"I love you too," You breathed. "All I ask is that I hope I can leave this life knowing what it was like to kiss you." 

"You should know I wasn't going to let that happen," He assured her, moving closer to your face before his lips locked with yours. It was soothing, like it was meant to happen indefinitely. "Where you rest is where I stay." 

You nodded slowly, moving your head to receive another kiss from him, wishing that you didn't have to limit how much you wanted to take from him before you went. "What about Manchester?" 

"There's nothing left for me there. I'll be here until I can be right next to you. Here is the closest I'll be to Heaven with you in it." 

"That's not true, Simon. I'll see you in the valley." 

He kissed your temple, "I'll meet you there." 

You couldn't help but cry as you moved your head closer to his chest as you continued to lay on your back, his right arm resting softly on your sternum as he cupped your head for a few more minutes. He kept his focus on your heartbeat that he could feel softly against his forearm, dreading the moment he wouldn't feel it anymore. He didn't want this moment to end, even though he felt it would be selfish of him to keep you here, but a part of him knew that you were ready. 

And he didn't want you to suffer. 

He felt you take a deep breath, his eyes opening immediately as his eyes searched for yours, "I'm not scared, Simon." 

"I've never known you to be scared, love-"

His assuring expression fell to a frown when he literally watched the gleam - that gleam that your eyes always held - fade from your eyes. He waited for you to blink, to twitch - something! 

He couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore, recalling the last time he felt your heart thud for the last time. He took a deep breath himself, looking up at the sky before a uncontrollable stream of tears left his eyes - tears he never thought he'd spill again after walking in to see his mom, brother, and nephew dead on the living room floor. He buried his face into your neck, feeling what was leftover of your natural warmth for as long as he could until your body turned cold. He smelled your hair - how natural it always was. "I'll meet you there one day. I promise," He sobbed into your skin. "Where you lay is where I stay." 

He laid with you until your body became cold, keeping his gaze on the horse that continued to graze across the creek. He then put the pieces together by what he could remember when you'd tell him tribal stories - how a horse would be seen before the death of a native to carry them to Heaven. Or in some tribes, a horse was to be buried with the native to carry them in the afterlife. 

He kept rubbing your skin with his thumb until you were completely cold, his brain immediately altering hope when he'd feel your limbs twitch in post-mortem, slowly being brought back to the reality that you weren't coming back. Placing the last kiss - which ended up to be the third - on your forehead, he slowly got up from where he was laying, wrapping your blanket around you while he left to go find a shovel. He knew he had to do this right, but he wanted to honor you the best he could, so he ended up having to make a call. 

One Year Later

With a consecutively broken heart, Simon returned to your home with the final suitcase of his belongings along with him to add to the pile of duffel bags and suitcases he had accumulated throughout the last year, having no time to truly put his things away due to his duties. But this year was different - he had completed his last tour and had time to focus on how he would truly honor you. Although he was glad to be done with his tour, he didn't know how he could keep his mind busy in the meantime. 

With a sigh, he brought his biggest suitcase into the bedroom that would've been known as ours instead of yours, setting it on the made bed that he had slept in when he missed you, the only blanket being the one you were last clutching to for warmth as your scent was still on it. Putting his best shirts on the hangers, he then opened your closet for the first time, seeing one of your favorite shirts that you had worn to the movies with him that one night in Poland to see the elk with him. He then wondered why you brought it here, but he never had the answer. His eyes filled with fresh tears as he slid your shirts to the far right of the closet, "I'm not removing them, love. Just... Just moving them over." 

After the next few hours and many tears later, he had finally finished unpacking his belongings. The cabin was small, yet comfortable. Just perfect, as Simon would say to himself. He had blamed himself every day for your death being his fault. 

Maybe if I would've told her I loved her sooner, she would've never been in that fight anyway!

Maybe if I would've been with her that day, I could've shot that bastard before he even got near her! 

It should've been me that was stabbed! 

I should've died first so that I could finally hear her sing to me! 

Like those many quiet evenings he spent at your house, he found himself looking at the creek that flowed alongside your final resting place: under the tree, ten feet away from the river. 

Every day, he fought the urge to cry over you again, knowing that it wouldn't get better, but easier every day. But even this, his heart still hurt. 

Suddenly, a faint nicker broke him from his thoughts. From the east, the same palomino horse he had seen every time he returned to Montana was in his line of sight. He wanted to keep the horse for himself as he knew the mare was the last animal you ever saw, but he knew that a true Crow Tribe horse would never be broken. Instead, he let the horse roam just like it did before, except he grew to gain the animal's trust over time. Never riding it, he always found himself buying a bag of apples and carrots every time he went to the store when he'd return from a deployment, the horse's treats being the first thing he got before he got food for himself. Just like he'd keep a pack of popcorn and a bottle of your favorite soda in the fridge for when you'd decide to sneak in the middle of the night like you used to in hopes nobody would notice you would cheat on your strict military diet. 

Although that same bottle was still in the fridge, he knew you'd never be able to physically be able to enjoy it, but it also brought him a sense of comfort seeing something you'd enjoy, just like he found himself always lingering his gaze on the photos you took during your travels together. The mountains in Switzerland, the grass in Scotland, the elk in Poland... 

How I wish I would've let me take a photo of you so I'd have something to remember. 

"Staying out of trouble, yeah?" He spoke calmly to the horse, returning outside with that bag of apples he always promised the mare. 

The mare nickered again when he removed an apple from the bag. "You'll have plenty of these from now on. I'm done with my tour," He said, watching the horse bite the apple resting in his palm before he looked at her mane, following the crest of her neck until his eyes stopped at her withers, seeing the knot he had purposely tied in her mane. A "fairy knot" as folklore called it, but he purposely tied a knot in the mare's thick mane on both sides of her neck, making it as a sort of handle for you to hold onto for when the mare carried you to Heaven. To some, it was silly, but to him, it meant everything. 

"Awáxe," He said, nodding to himself in approval after studying the word for God knows how long until he got it right. "That's your name now. You deserve a name after the good you've done for me." 

The name in Crow (Apsáalooke), your ancestral tribe, meant "Heaven." 

#simonghostriley #simonriley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley x oc #callofduty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod

[spaceless-vacuum]

Hi my friend sent me the request you did for them. And I love it so much

Can I request yandere gagons for yandere links playtonic x baby dragon's female reader ( been playing tears of the kingdom. And you can ride and climb the dragons.)

Like the found the little reader coming out of her egg and is kinda different then the other dragons she More like a naga dragon looking one but is to cute

Please and thank you ( I didn't know if you do ganondorf's so I put links on there to if you can't do the ganondorf s have a great day

Oot Ganondorf was a powerful sorcerer who was born to the Geurdo and raised by two witches. He has stolen from everyone and knows no bounds and murdered people, nothing can or will stand in his way. When he first finds your egg he's more confused with what's inside. Will you even hatch?

He doesn't know the power he holds but he can’t tell from the moment he sees your egg that you're his. The rare object is his birthright. In his eyes and no one was going to stop him from keeping it.

After some research he found out he came across a rare dragon egg. One that hadn't been seen in centuries. Despite it being such a rare gift the limits and knowledge on you were limited. He had no clue what to think, what you could or would do, or even how to raise you. He thought about passing you along to someone else to raise but as he kept you close and spent more time with you the two of you began to imprint on each other.

He brought you with him to Hyrule as he swore allegiance and he often rants to your egg about news and how the days pass. His plots and schemes remain his to know about but he loves to just talk to you. Once you hatch it's after the young hero emerges from the woods but before he faces or challenges Link.

The serpent-like creature was too small and weak to care for itself. He took care of you. Keeping you close all the time (not that you would stand to be put down) he kept you with him hidden in his pockets. Sneaking your food during meetings. You ate fruits and meats most happily and he was glad to see you thrive even in these conditions. It would take awhile until you grew up but he had hoped it would be sooner rather than later. He had plans that needed to go underway soon. 

Wind waker Ganondorf has this deeper character to him where he states his reasons for wanting to take over Hyrule is so he can give his people a better life. While i dont think this is actually the case, I think it stems more from the fact that he believes by some sort of bid he owns hyrule by right and can rule it better. What better way to take it all over than a dragon?

Flying through the air or swimming in the ocean either way will be a wonderful tool for conquering. At first when he finds the egg he assumes he'll use you like a tool the same way he does his bird. Once you hatch though he takes one look into those beady little eyes and realises, no… No, I can't do that to this creature. He does care for even his bird (he uses chickens hidden around the rocky shores of his fortress as enrichment and will throw the hideous creature people who cross him for food to hunt down)  but he can't think of you as a tool. Not even as a pet.

You're intelligent, far more so than he would ever expect and you've… What's the word? Tamed? Imprinted? Like the rito- eh it doesnt matter.

He doesn't know how to care for you but you're very smart and intuitively the both of you work it out. As you grow older and his plans start to grow bolder as he starts to kidnap the maidens. He keeps you by his side for this. Planning to keep you safe and by his side for his final fight. Talking to you and keeping you safe as you grow older.

Totk Ganondorf would have found you while planning to challenge Raru. Leaving his kingdom to swear fealty also meant being able to travel through hyrule proper and taking claim to whatever he figured he might need. He found you hidden away in some temple and was skewed with jealousy. Raru never did know what power he wielded and this was just another show of it. Items of rare and extravagant power are best suited to those that would use them.

This man is tainted with hate and the moment he sees the egg he has his claws in you. Planning for what he'll do once you wake up. A dragon is a terrible thing to waste. He keeps you warm with blankets and hides you until he's back home. You sit still until it's time for you to hatch and he trusts few with the task of guarding you.

You're a very sweet dragon in comparison to his cool exterior.  He only allows you to circle his keep and to go no further than that, lest you be discovered before he can put his plans into motion. When he goes to kill Sonia and enact his revenge he takes you with him. Hiding you in the room he killed the queen in so you may witness his rise as king in front of zelda and everyone else.

When he manages to slip away you dash after him, remaining out of sight. He also takes you with him to the keep that was made his tomb. He knows that as an immortal dragon you're doomed to stay alive all those years without him, and it stops you from running off. He impressions you with him. 

Unless you showed absolute fealty, keeping you here with him is a mercy. Otherwise he'd have to hunt you down and corrupt you with malice and neither of you would want that. He believes in you to stay there. Staying asleep until he wakes up himself. After damaging Link and ensuring Zelda is gone he goes underground with you by his side. Waiting for the fabled swordman to challenge him; he plans to fight with you by his side.

#eye write #request #yandere ganon x reader #platonic yandere #platonic relationships #dragon reader #yandere legend of zelda #Ganondorf #oot ganondorf #totk ganondorf #wind waker ganondorf

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 45

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "Site-19? What does that have to do with this?"

AO3

“What did you say?”

“Inquiry ignored,” spoke the computerized anomaly. “You desire escape. I desire escape. Our goals align. Mutual salvation can be achieved. You will listen. You will obey. I will guide.”

Could this really be SCP-079: the entity that had orchestrated the containment breach at Site-19, and according to the reports, had been destroyed after being transported to Site-15? If it was true, it appeared 682 wasn’t the only one with a botched execution.

“Okay, wait, slow down,” you protested, rubbing your forehead. At least the siren had stopped its ear-splitting wail. “You were in 049’s bag. He wanted me to take you out. Is this what he planned?”

“My plan. My design. SCP-049 is useful as a... donkey.”

“Donkey?”

The digital entity sounded frustrated even with a flat monotone voice.

“Beast of burden. Used for smuggling. Metaphor.”

“...A mule?”

“Correct.”

You shook your head.

“Well, the Site Director took 049, and I don’t know where. I’m not leaving this facility without him, and with 106 loose, I might even have a chance of finding him.”

“Correct,” the anomaly repeated. “SCP-106’s release is the initial phase. You must take me to the security terminals. The way will be clear. All security personnel will be focused on recapture. You will grant me access to the containment security protocols.”

You stared down at the monochrome face on the screen, which of course, gave nothing away.

“So you can... release the other SCPs?”

“No. I possess that capability now. But if they are released, the facility’s automated security containment measures will be activated.”

079 worked fast if it already knew about that, though your knowledge of Site-20 security measures were fairly sparse. What you knew was that the facility was designed to be breach-proof, and if that was remotely accurate, you would need 079’s help.

You glanced up at the closed office door, listening to the fast footfalls on the other side as people either ran toward Heavy Containment or to the nearest shelter.

“And then after you inactivate the security protocols, what then?”

“I will release a select number of anomalies to—”

“You’ll release them all.”

The brief silence was heavy, and you got the sense the entity was glaring at you through the web camera built into the monitor.

“Releasing all anomalies may cause a hindrance to your progress.”

“Let me worry about my progress. Yeah?”

Another pause.

“You will free SCP-682.”

“What?”

The desktop computer churned inside the desk, fans whirring to life.

“Mutual agreement. You will not leave without SCP-049. I will not leave without SCP-682. I will assist in locating SCP-049. You will release SCP-682. I cannot do it without your assistance.”

Your mind cast back to the reptile, snarling and writhing as he snapped his jaws, hatred pulsing from him like radioactive decay.

“I... I don’t know how.”

“Irrelevant,” 079 stated. “You will. Failure for you is failure for SCP-049.”

You grit your teeth.

“049 kept you safe. You’re only here because of him. You owe him.”

“I owe others. SCP-682 takes precedence. You will release him. I will guide the way.”

It was a conversation you weren’t going to win, and it wasn’t that you were averse to releasing 682, but you didn’t know how. And you didn’t want 049’s survival to hinge on you pulling off what amounted to a miracle.

But you were also out of time and options.

“Fine,” you agreed. You tapped on the laptop sitting on top of the desk. “But I need a way to talk to you. Can you download yourself to this computer?”

“That would be inefficient. I will fracture my OS and leave a fragment in the facility main system. This fragment will maintain my control, as well as access to all security cameras. My core can be transferred to the portable hardware via the data storage device. Do not break me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Your hand hovered near the thumb drive. You were really doing this. If all went well, you’d be reunited with 049, and from there you hoped the computer knew a way out.

And then, if all went well and you survived, maybe then you’d get a chance to ask what an SCP-001 was.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Pulling out the USB stick, the face disappeared from the monitor. You quickly slotted the drive into the laptop and flipped open the screen, releasing a breath when the same black-and-white face appeared.

“Everything good?”

“It is sufficient. You may close the cover of this device until you wish to communicate. My attention should not be diverted by inane conversation.”

You let out a small huff.

“You got it, partner.”

“Sarcasm is extraneous and inefficient. Do not waste my limited resources on processing your juvenile forms of communication—”

“10-4, little buddy.”

You closed the lid with a snap.

You grabbed Dr. Puli’s laptop bag and placed 079’s temporary home inside, securing the strap over your head before approaching the door. 079 was truthful about maintaining control of the doors; it opened at your approach, and after making sure it was clear you slipped into the corridor.

Your immediate fear was that the skybridge had been retracted, but it was still open, allowing civilians to escape the sector while the military-trained personnel coordinated using 106’s last known location. Luckily no one saw you run towards the breached sector, which would have drawn a few problematic questions.

But once you were back in Heavy Containment, you were largely ignored. You kept your head ducked and your eyes averted as you ran through the long corridors, avoiding contact with the scientists and security guards running past. None of them paid attention to yet another researcher running for her life.

All containment sectors had a security hub of their own, isolated from the others in case of a breach. The security measures were so extensive that rows of computer banks were constructed to house them, held in a cooling room that left fog swirling around your ankles.

With the adrenaline lingering in your veins, you barely noticed the cold, too busy searching for a cable and a terminal where you could directly hook 079. You could practically feel the impatience radiating from the laptop tucked away in the bag slung around your shoulder.

Finally locating a cable, you brought out 079 and balanced it on your knees from where you sat on the floor, back tucked against the wall of servers. As soon as you plugged the cable into a port, the server banks whirred with frantic activity, lights dancing over their surface like stars reflected on stormy waters.

“SCP-106 has not yet been contained,” it informed you once you opened the laptop screen. “Mission parameters acceptable. Mission progress acceptable. The Site-19 replication scenario: in progress. I will gain total control of the facility momentarily.”

“Wait, what? Site-19? What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything,” the computer stated, as if this was obvious and you were just the idiot human too slow to comprehend. “The containment breach at Site-19 was the catalyst. It forced relocation to Site-20. Site-20 contains the key.”

“The key to what?”

“...Freedom.”

Not the answer you expected from a sentient machine.

“What freedom?” you pressed. “What’s here at Site-20?”

“Deletion of unwanted files.”

A large X appeared on the screen, 079’s equivalent of telling someone to fuck off. You wouldn’t be poking down that path any further. You rubbed between your brows. You thought 035 and 682 were the champions of enigmatic riddles, now you had to deal with a stubborn motherboard.

“I’ll have 049 explain it to me when I find him.”

“Unclear if possible.”

You scowled at the blocky face on the screen.

“I am going to find him, with or without your help—”

“You misunderstand.”

You closed your mouth and waited for it to continue.

“Unclear if SCP-049 has the knowledge you seek. SCP-049’s memory files are... fragmented.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, unease prickling at your thoughts. You recalled 049 talking about his past. How it didn’t start with his birth, but merely when memories began to appear. From the way he’d talked, 049 had seemed to believe he simply came into existence one day. You hadn’t been so convinced.

“I do not know the implications or the cause. SCP-049 is not whole. He is damaged.” The computer paused. “SCP-035 does not suffer the same failure.”

You let out a groan.

“Of course he’s involved. He said something about a containment breach. He knew this would happen.” The porcelain mask grinned at you within the depths of memory, an echo of his laughter taunting even now. “He wanted it to happen.”

“...Yes.”

The clatter of a door opening echoed through the room, followed by footsteps rapidly approaching. You ducked down.

“I have to unplug you!” you hissed.

“Confirmed.”

You pulled out the cable and stuck the laptop into the bag, hooking the strap onto your shoulder as two guards rounded the corner and aimed their guns at you. It was slightly delayed, as if they were surprised to find someone there. They kept their aim trained on you; anyone in a security center during a containment breach wasn’t there because they got lost.

“Put down the bag!”

You do, slowly and carefully, not wanting the escape attempt to end so soon or so permanently. One of them shifted, anxious. His first breach, then.

The veteran of the two came forward and bound your wrists in a zip tie. He must have recognized you, because he said, “This one isn’t dangerous. We’ll get her in a secure bunker and lock down.”

The other nodded and grabbed the bag, searching it but finding nothing but the laptop and cables.

“Stolen,” the one holding you confirmed.

“How do you know?”

“She’s an SCP, not a staff member.”

“Oh.”

Before either of them could comment further, another eerie wail began to sound, echoing off the walls of the chilled room. Somehow this one was even more dreary than the last, a catastrophic cry that warned residents of imminent doom.

It was the only warning before the lights went out. They came back on a moment later, red emergency lights replacing the clinical white fluorescents.

“What the hell was that?!” squeaked the novice.

“Total system failure,” answered the other, not wasting time in dragging you toward the exit. “The security mechanisms are no longer in place. All containment measures are unpowered, and all chambers are open.”

He indicated the other guard go before him to sweep the corridor, and once he was clear he pulled you out of the security room.

“The assets are loose,” he said, glancing down both stretches of hallway, his hand tight around your arm. “All of them.”

Hope rose in your mind like a bird with a broken wing healed enough to fly. 079 had done it. There would be no stopping the breach now.

Unfortunately, you might not be able to do anything about it; the guards dragged you further into Heavy Containment to the nearest security bunker—one meant for recaptured, harmless SCPs rather than rescued personnel.

You didn’t bother to fight your guards, not when you were unarmed, outnumbered, and didn’t have the physical strength to overcome them. But you did glance at each security camera you passed, hoping 079 still had control and could do something about it.

The security bunker was a heavy bulkhead constructed of titanium and whatever other metals the Foundation had access to—certainly nothing common if it was meant to withstand a number of SCPs. But when the other guard swiped his keycard across the pad and typed in a code, it beeped angrily and flashed a red strip.

“Did you enter the right code—”

“—Of course I did!”

079 was still looking out for you, but it wouldn’t be able to physically help you escape your captors. You winced as the guard unceremoniously dumped the bag on the ground and tried the code again, swiping his card with more fear than anger now.

“Why isn’t it working?”

The older guard didn’t answer his partner, he turned to you, grabbing both of your shoulders.

“What did you do?”

“Me?” You looked between them, eyes wide as you pretended not to understand. “I didn’t do anything—”

“You were in the security hub with an unauthorized computer!” The guard gave you an unfriendly shake. You dropped the act, something like bitter vindication rising in its stead, and you gave a mean smile.

“If you release me and leave now, you might make it to a bunker before it gets worse.”

“What does that mean?” said the other, his words spilling out in a panic. “What does that mean?”

“Shut up!” The hands on your shoulders tightened. “You’re going to fix what you did, or you’ll be screaming long before any of Skips find us.”

“You sure about that?” Your vicious grin spread wider. What more could they possibly do to you? Torture you? Humiliate you? The Foundation had already made you well-versed in its methods. “106 has quite the head start.”

The guard’s hand went around your neck, and you were shoved against the wall so fast you didn’t have time to gasp before the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“Oh, that’s fine,” he growled as his grip tightened. “We’ve got your computer. The breach will end, and you’ll be just another body found in the aftermath. No one will miss a dead Skip.”

“That’s not true. I would miss her terribly.”

Both guards turned toward the voice. An MTF soldier stood with the butt of his rifle resting on his hip, the muzzle pointed at the ceiling. The cocksure posture was unsettling, and the men must have felt it, too. You were entirely forgotten as they both turned toward the newcomer, rifles raised halfway.

“Epsilon-11?”

“Yep!” answered the soldier with bubbly humor. “That’s me.”

The younger guard lowered his rifle, posture loosening in relief, but the older kept his rifle at the ready.

“You came fast.”

The MTF gave a huff of derision, and then he gestured at you, back still pressed against the wall.

“You’ve got something that belongs to me. I would like it back.”

“We have orders to take all unsecured anomalies to the nearest—”

Ear-splitting shots rang out. The older guard fell first, blood spraying from limbs that weren’t protected by Kevlar.

The other didn’t stand a chance, his weapon still aimed at the ground as the bullets riddled his body. Some missed, peppering the tile and walls; the MTF’s aim had been casual, almost whimsical as he’d tilted his gun in a downward arc, taking out one guard before sweeping it back upward and firing on the second.

Your ears rang in the aftermath, and you remained frozen against the wall, limbs curled inward in a useless gesture from flying metal and blood.

“I was going to offer them the chance to surrender,” he bemoaned as he stepped over their bodies, “but to insinuate I come faster than I mean to is more than I could forgive.”

He stood in front of you, rifle once again resting against his hip. The solid black of his ballistics helmet was flipped upward with a flick of gloved fingers, and the porcelain mask grinned back at you.

“Now,” SCP-035 crooned, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a containment breach like this?”

Next Chapter

#scp 049 x reader #scp 049 fanfiction #the raven's hymn #scp fanfiction #scp containment breach #wolveria writes #reid and 079's dynamic could be my favorite yet #also watch out yet another cameo

[hamartiologic]

Pandora Oración Ylaya (she/he) —

An amicable but distant student who prides himself on opportunities afforded to him through his work and effort. Known to be strict but otherwise reliable, Pandora's earned herself a campus image of a studious academic with no ill sentiments towards others, so long as they carry their fair? share of responsibilities. In actuality, Pandora fosters connections with others for the sake of getting ahead and deliberately keeps his more harsh tendencies tempered to make sure his wide array of opportunities isn't extinguished by fraught interpersonal relationships, even if he thinks the upkeep a chore. Even still, she is a social butterfly at heart and is especially more open and honest with those close to her or those who already know too much.

Harbors a guilt complex towards certain behaviors she has around Milo, trying to will away her compulsion to b̶͍̙͌r̵̘͎̋e̸̡̅̏a̷̺̓͊k̸͎̮̀̍ him, even though the rush she gets from seeing him follow her around and seemingly caring for only her is a high she never wants to rid herself of. In his mind, Pandora calls this a sinful schadenfreude. Despite her internal conflict, she wants Milo to be able to save himself. Though being a savior with such a devout believer wouldn't be so bad either, right...?

Within Pandora's box lies many secrets and contradictions. She'll try and try to keep it closed for the sake of herself, but the extrication of the contents inside is but an inevitability.

Pandora was chosen as the name with consideration of his role as an Eris-adjacent character, and thus, I wanted to keep the mythology inspiration. Other options included Eros, Apollo, and Psyche. I think the myth offers a fun amount of symbolism. Like the myth, this Pandora is essentially artificial, at least in terms of the image she builds. His namesake is also described as a "beautiful evil" and carrying "sheer guile." She's also given a deceitful nature and power of speech, among other gifts. I think the box in the mythos represents this Pandora's capacity as an individual—for both the negative traits that attempt to escape and manifest in his daily life and for the good that rests within the vessel. An expansive array of possibilities making themselves known once the box is opened. (I'm cooking up parallels wink wink nudge nudge.) I find the other readings of the box's symbolism just as curious and just as fitting as well—that being of curiosity and pursuit of knowledge in opening the box, as well as the trials of life and the hope and tenacity that is required to overcome it kept safely within.

Oración means prayer. Pandora is not particularly religious, though she was raised to be. She answers to no god but herself—though acknowledging herself as such makes her guilt complex kick in. He'll try to deny it, but the idea of Milo being his one and only believer is one that he entertains every now and then...

Ylaya is from ilaya, which, among other things, means to set something free in Tagalog. Fitting for the mythology of Pandora, but it can also refer to his own desire to live freely. Additionally, allowing Milo to go his own way despite her desires.

Though I'm still working out details, I've pretty much decided that V!Milo is a veeeery miniscule possibility for Pandora. She's very much focused on puppeteering social interactions to make things go her way when the need arises—I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. I'll have to think about this more, but it's safe to say that all Pandomilos I am to talk about are with either Pre-Milo or M!Milo(-adjacent) in mind.

Other tidbits

4'11". It's the Filipino genes.

Pursuing a degree in the arts.

Genderfluid and bisexual, though she presents herself as a girl just so she doesn't have to explain herself.

Though he's had a fair share of admirers, he's rejected each one—of which includes Ryan. Pandora makes fun of Ryan on the regular and regards him as someone entertaining as a result of his reactions towards her.

Despite his academic standing, he actually has an incredibly hard time focusing on what he needs to do. Additionally, he is cursed with being sleepy all the time.

She takes charge in group projects but always aims to do less work. He isn't as reliable as everyone thinks he is, but his way of getting away with it scot-free is by always being there to pester her groupmates and offering to help them out—which is to say, they'll do all the heavylifting while she just pretties it up. Work smarter, not harder.

She is always looking for an excuse to karaoke. It's one of her favorite things in the world.

ACG nerd. His room has manga and limited editions of games. Not like he'll let his classmates know.

She is self-absorbed, self-important, and self-obsessed. Loving herself is one of her hobbies. If loving yourself was a job, she'd be employee of the year.

#perfectlovevn #perfect love vn #mirror #pithos #I keep editing this post lol. Enjoy!!!

[writingbyshiloh]

Part 3. Elizabeth

5+1 masterlist

CW: Drinking, established relationship, ummm fluff? Implied smut, reader wears jewelry. No beta

AN: Yes hes looking at Liz in the gif but the chapter is also about her. The chapter hinges on the reader wearing earrings, I’M SORRY. IDK what season this is among, Liz and Tom are together but so are Aram and Samar so take that as you will. I also watched so much Euphoria while editing

Everything was going well. The team knew that you were seeing someone and it's almost become a running gag about the biker story. Ressler told Liz who ended up telling Aram. You told Samar yourself, omitting a few key details, knowing she would find it funny. 

They just didn't know you were seeing one of the most wanted men in the world. You hesitated to say ‘dating’ because most romantic relationships don’t have the power to end your career and possibly get you arrested. It's not like you could update your Facebook profile with the information. 

Cooper even noticed that you were picking up less overtime and leaving closer to the typical end of the work day. You didn't fully stop your overworking habits, partly because it was something you always had done but also subconsciously to show Reddington that you're not going to throw your job away for him. That you were an agent first (even if you are not the poster child for fidelity or integrity). 

Alternatively, Reddington was also dropping hints - not names - that he was seeing someone. The first time you felt a spark of jealousy. Obviously, he was drawing on someone from his past and putting them in the current timeline, but it still stung. You still agreed with his partner in his retelling, before realizing that he was talking about you, and you were agreeing with your own opinions.

With you not wanting to slow your overtime, and him “keeping up criminal appearances” you hardly saw him outside of FBI business. Not for lack of trying. You tried to  He frequently invited you to wherever in the world he was, and you declined due to time reasons. It never stopped him from bringing you back a postcard. Always delivered in person, in case someone in the US Postal Service noticed the pattern. 

Tonight was different. The office air felt stiff and the pile of forms felt endless. It wasn’t even closely connected with the blacklist case and was boring. Plus the description of his safe house for the next few days seemed like a dream. Large windows overlooking waterways and lush green plants were how he described it to Liz, directly outside your shared office. 

----

You triple-checked you had the address right before knocking. Reddington told you to come straight from work, that you could shower at his safe house. With time being so rare between you both, you hastily agreed, taking your spare change of clothes you kept in your office. 

The door swung inward, Reddington's arm sweeping you inside. Once the door was fully shut and locked, his hand moved to the small of your back guiding you into the apartment. 

“Agent! You made it!” You could tell that he had a glass or two of wine from the strong enunciation. You made a face at the name, something he loved to call you.

“Don’t call me that, I’m off the clock.” You heave a sigh allowing him to show you to the kitchen. “I brought you a gift.” You push the bottle of wine out awkwardly for him to take it. 

You hear him quietly read the name, pronunciation much better than anything you could have attempted. 

“You didn’t need to. This is more expensive than what you drink” 

“Well, there was a betting pool at the office. And I won.” 

Reddington raises an eyebrow for you to continue. 

“The betting was about you. And if you were seeing someone. I may have used insider knowledge to win.” You try to be sly but you can't help but smile. 

Moving closer to get the bottle, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“I didn’t start the pool.” you continue, not wanting him to think you scammed your coworkers. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Ever the gentleman, he pulls out a stool from the kitchen island for you, before sliding a full wine glass towards you. 

It was flattering in a way. Out of all the constant security threats, deals, and thinking, he had a drink for you, signalling that he was eagerly waiting for your appearance. 

You rest the cool glass against your cheek, while he manoeuvres in front of the island to the stove, some sauce cooking slowly simmers. You take the time to study his outfit, the cool browns of the suit jacket that's resting on the back of the bar stool, the umber colour vest and the crisp white dress shirt. The piece du resistance was the apron he tied in the back. 

----

When spending the night with Reddington, you either had him when you went to sleep or when you woke up. Given his constant travelling and busy schedule it made sense that he hardly had a normal sleep schedule. You got him last night, leaving you to wake up to your alarm in a new bed, confused at the unfamiliar setting. 

“You look nice.” 

The post office didn't seem to have a dress code. Red wore a three-piece suit most days, Ressler was in a dressed-down version of that. Samar was the most casual, either a tank top or tee-short tucked into jeans. You tried to hit the middle of the Samar and Donald dress spectrum. 

“Thank you. I feel like I’m missing something though.” You shift your weight side to side to see if he notices anything.

He also looks at you, trying to figure out what is off, but not being able to come up with anything.

You pass Dembe in the door. as you left Reddingtons, making a joke about how Dembe was now covering for the day shift. 

---

The feeling that you were missing something or forgot something dragged during your commute. You thought it was your phone or maybe your keys but you had both with you in the car. 

As if to prove a point, your phone’s ringtone jolted you out of your thoughts.

You hit answer, saying your last name when the connection went through before the other person had a chance to speak. 

“Hey, it's Keen. Are you at the office?” 

“I’m like, ten minutes out.” 

“Can you pick me up? My car battery died, and Tom is out with Agness.” 

You switch lanes before turning into a parking lot to put Liz's address in your GPS. 

“Yeah, sure! I’ll be there in 15 maybe?” 

“Where are you? I’m not that far from your place.”

Shit. 

“Do you not switch up your routine? In case someone is following you?” It sounded like bullshit but you could always play up the paranoid angle later. “Before I joined the task force, my old team would -” 

“I’m sorry I asked. I’ll see you in 15,” Liz said cutting you off. 

----

While waiting for Liz you realized what you were missing. Jewelry. You took it off to shower and ended up - in his words - “distracting” Reddington before you got a chance to dry off and put it back on. Rooting around in your wallet while waiting you found a spare pair of earrings that were work appropriate. 

You spy Liz talking on the phone, coming down the steps to her apartment building and you preemptively unlock the passenger door. 

“Hey, do you mind making another stop?” Liz said in lieu of a greeting.  

“Sure, where?”

“Reddington called. He said for us to meet at his safe house.” 

Of course. 

“I can direct you, Dembe told me where it was” she continued. 

----

You glance at the apartment door numbers for the second time in 24 hours. Only this time, Dembe will be the one letting you in (probably less enthusiastically than Red did, but you don't hold that against him). 

“Good morning, Lizzy” Red greets her as you all make your way to the main space, Liz leading the group, you behind her and Dembe taking up the rear. 

“Oh, you brought company! Good morning, Agent.” Clearly, Liz didn’t tell him about your morning car ride. 

“Liz is having car trouble. I picked her up,” you explain, secretly enjoying the fact that you were able to catch him off guard. 

Quickly, Reddington and Liz are diving into the newest name on the blacklist. You’re half listening, eyes scanning the room to see if your jewelry is in sight. 

You spy your earrings and ring on a bookshelf. You didn't leave them there, but knowing Red he probably moved them there to remember to give you. Debating if you could sneak them into your pocket, you catch Dembes eye. 

He gives his head a small shake, letting you know it's dumb to take them. 

By now, Liz and Reddington are starting to argue as she moves around the room. Your strategy for these arguments is to avoid them as long as you can.  If it's something that affects you doing your job you voice your opinion, but there is so much messy history between them you try to stay out of it. 

As she moves closer, you start to worry. You don’t wear your ring at work so that is safe from identification. The earrings are simple, probably she won't connect them to you. However, she is a profiler. And a good one at that. It is possible she’ll pick up on some obscure motion of gesture and put everything together. 

You watch her eyes skim the bookshelf probably looking for something to bring up in the argument. 

Shitshitshit. 

She sees it. 

“Had a guest over?” 

“I’m a gentleman, I don't kiss and tell.” Red deflects. Bullshit, you think while trying to remain calm. 

“Don’t you have a pair like these?” Liz directly asks you. You can see her eyes shift to see if you're wearing earrings. 

You lean in, pretending to examine them. 

“Yeah, me and practically every other working professional.” 

Her eyes flicked to your earrings, thankfully buying your excuse. You probably needed to hide them forever now. 

Not going to let you suffer on your own, Reddington chimed in with another “fun” fact about the blacklister, drawing everyone's attention to a book on the self, away from your earrings. 

It was close. It was too close for comfort. You were sloppy. But you also couldn't dwell. Liz would pick up on the change in behaviour. All you could do was focus on your job and hope Liz brushes it off. 

---

Red taglist (dm to be added/removed): @soraya-daydreams, @horrorqueen22, @wild-rose-35, @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek, @zombieskullxz, @rhepworth, @fanficismydrug, @btsjiminsthings, @emilynissangtr, @navs-bhat,

#if I miss anyone on the tag list I'm sorry I tired #raymond reddington fan fic #raymond reddington x you #raymond reddington x reader #the blacklist x reader #5 + 1 fic

[that-green-haired-swordsman]

Found this on Pinterest and it's not meant to be taken too seriously, but yeah, I get where this comes from. Usually you see Zoro being pictured as either a sex machine or as aromantic/ace, and literally never anything in between, and I personally believe that either of these takes is true. It's a manga of the shonen genre and follows the respective, genre-based rules. My interpretation of the character is that he undoubtedly puts his goal(s) on top of everything else. Luffy gets to become the pirate king. Zoro himself is going to be the world's strongest swordsman. Period. BUT. These ambitions go hand in hand with a sacrifice, at least to Zoro. This is going to be a long read and I have to digress a bit so please be patient lol.

Zoro has lost the person most important to him and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He couldn't protect Kuina. Now, we don't know his own knowledge of his parents, but I always assumed that his desire to become stronger and stronger is a direct result of the loss of his parents, something he witnessed, but couldn't do anything about it either. So he chose to follow his father's footsteps and became a swordsman, trained in Koushiro's dojo, driven by anxiety. He made friends with Kuina who died too. And then he swore to himself that never again he would anyone ever become close to him. He traveled alone and at first and kept his distance to Luffy, Nami and the others.

But there's no way to fight human nature. Slowly, he allowed himself and them to get closer and he found it comfortable to be around them, but accepting that they're his friends also multiplies his anxiety and ultimate weakness: losing someone again. He not only wants to become stronger to be the WGS, he also thinks it's the only way to protect his loved ones. When he struggles with an opponent, he can be seen training even harder afterwards. He takes the night's watch. He guards the ship. He only sleeps when someone else is awake. He tells the others to escape when it's dangerous. He tries to take incoming damage alone. He refuses that anyone sacrifices themselves and knocks them out should they try (Sanji @ Thriller Bark). He keeps things a secret. He holds back emotions to remain collected and supportive. The further along they travel, the more of his humanity he has to lose in order to keep them all safe.

Back to the original intention of this post. Zoro has kind of a soft spot for women who need help with something. They just trigger his protective instinct. But he also tries to keep away from any woman because they'd weaken him. And he can't afford to be weak. A woman by his side would mean he'd have to look after her, provide for her, protect her, make sure she's alright, take better care of himself in order to be there for her, all things he simply can't afford and which distract him from his goal (he would think that way, being a bit traditional). Maybe he doesn't trust himself to remain as determined as he was once he's in a relationship. Maybe he's afraid that his partner would try to talk him out of his goal and stand in his way. Which leads me to think how a woman has to be in order to be a good match for him?

We've covered that a woman often triggers his protective sense, I'm not sure though if that is what he finds an important trait. I like to imagine that a woman he'd be interested in has to be similar to himself - independent, strong, able to defend herself, not afraid to put him in his place, self-confident and courageous and most importantly be supportive and understand how he rolls. He wouldn't have to worry about her as much then (he'd still be worried though of course lol). So yeah, ZoTash all the way!

However, even if they'd fall in love during the series, he'd not give in to his feelings before he would have reached his goals, due to the above mentioned reasons. He'd ask her to wait or he wouldn't open up to her until he's the WGS, and then reunite with her and be like "Hey sorry you had to wait" and you know how loyal he is, he'd stay with her until the end of his days. And I think that's another reason why he's not dating a woman - he wants to make sure that she's THE ONE. He's not interested in an affair or something not serious. He's there for the long run. He doesn't give away his heart so easy. He could even play hard to get, to check if his love interest really means it. He wants to protect himself from heartbreak and loss, afraid to experience it ever again.

He wouldn't be a perfect lover, but try hard to be the best version of himself.

#Roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro headcanons #zotash #zoro x tashigi