Ask me again.
Satan x Asexual reader (pronouns you/yours, no gender specified)
Comfort? IDEK
Established relationship
Word count: 971
Cover art by me (recycled)
Someone needs reassurance from societal pressure and expectations! (you, you fucking do ((me actually)))
Guess who spent 2 hours writing nonstop instead of sleeping? Here, have the fruits of my insomnia. Not proofread, didn't bother checking punctuation, good luck soldier.
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Oh it was one of those days, wasn't it? When your confidence wavered. You've been through this before. You knew what you needed. But would this be the last straw for him?
In vain you attempted to carry on as if nothing was amiss within you. But he noticed. Of course he noticed. He's arguably the most observant person there's ever been, of you at least. Yet so tactful about it.
You tried to hold his hand as usual. Let him touch you affectionately without tensing up. Be close to his face and his body without hesitation. But you couldn't really help it. And who knows how many other signs you weren't even aware of he had picked up already.
Was this more aggravating to him than if you just asked for what you needed? The thoughts swarmed your mind. Again. Again their buzz overtook reason. You had been doing so well too... So you just started preparing, mentally, for what you had to say.
Meanwhile, Satan was figuring things out at his own pace. Were you growing scared? Of him? Well he could see why. His temper still got the best of him sometimes. And he knew that what to him and other demons was just a mild grumpy spell, to a regular human could be rather violent or scary.
Yet whenever he talked about it, you reassured him that no, you weren't afraid of him. You held him so lovingly and told him. Told him that you knew he'd never hurt you or try to again.
His thoughts were interrupted by you, in the flesh, of all things. You sat by him in the library and looked him in the eyes. Your expression wasn't upset but he could see you were going to say something important.
"Can we walk back home? Whenever is okay. I'll just hang around here until you are done."
A calculated request, he deduced. But you were asking for him in a way. It was a relief. He sighed with a soft smile and answered:
"Sure, I couldn't focus on what I was reading much today anyways. Let's just go."
With that, you calmly picked up your bags and left the building.
Your walk started out casual enough. Barely anyone on the streets at this hour, something you both prefer. But Satan saw you were bracing yourself to say something.
"Satan," you sighed "do you remember what I said when we started dating?"
He blushed very faintly. "You said you were really happy and you hugged me so hard... And then you grabbed my face and kissed m-"
You gaped for a second in surprise before interrupting him. "Nooo, not that."
He looked back at you, expecting to hear what you meant. You cleared your throat and elaborated.
"When I asked if you were really okay with me being asexual?"
He looked back at you a little puzzled "I believe I said that I was perfectly fine with that?"
You nodded, "yes, well, right after that."
He aimed his gaze down trying to remember. The bliss of the moment might have made him dismiss anything he didn't immediately figure out.
In the meantime, outside his head, the words itched in your throat, you planned to just remind him, but this conversation was turning excruciating for you. Just as he remembered, your voice next to him echoed his memory:
"Can I ask again in the future?"
He looked at you with a mixture of realization and curiosity. You continued.
"You told me that I could, Satan. So..."
You took a few seconds to still your resolve.
"Are you okay with it?"
There it was, the prickle in his expression. You didn't want to see it. You knew this question could be bothersome. But you needed this.
"Y/N, of course I am! Did I overstep your boundaries in any way? Please tell me so I don't repeat it again. I apologize, I truly didn't mean to..."
He trails off. But you are already raising your hand and trying to wave his concern away. Ashamed, you reply.
"No, no Satan. Listen. I just needed to ask again. You didn't overstep or anything. I like touching you, and being touched by you as well."
He nods, but stays silent for you to continue.
"But, well... I just didn't want to raise your expectations with that sort of contact. It's happened before with other people and it hasn't ended well."
He sighs and rolls his eyes. "Humans are so fickle."
You look at him wideyed, clearly hurt.
"Wait, not you, I didn't mean you!" He drags his hand down his face "Sorry, sorry" before continuing, he gathers his thoughts, "what I mean is that that is not something you have to worry about with me."
"Was it wrong of me to ask?"
He looks forward, wideyed with full realization. Then he stops walking and faces you with his entire posture as you stop a couple steps after him. He puts a hand on your shoulder and solemnly says " Y/N, never feel bad for needing reassurance. It is not wrong. How many times have you reassured me? That you aren't afraid of me? I didn't realize at the time that was what your question meant. But yes, you can ask me again. As many times as you want. It won't only not bother me, I will tell you that I love you every time and mean it. I love you."
You put your hand on his, getting misty eyed. Before your tears take over, you lean forward and kiss him briefly. Then you part from his lips and hug him, squeezing as hard as you can. He hugs back, pats your head, then chuckles and leans back, lifting your feet from the floor briefly, making you chuckle as well.
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You Promised
TW: Major character death, canon typical violence
I wrote this instead of working :3 enjoy
Pairing: GhostxReader
As always, not proof read, lemme know abt any mistakes/what you think. Also I quite literally wrote this right now so sorry if there's more than the usual amount of mess-ups.
There was a moment, when your eyes first met, that you knew this man would ruin you. It was a sudden burst of clarity, seeing him standing there, face covered, leaning against the wall. It’s like something was trying to tell you that getting involved with him would lead to disaster
Still, you decided to go for it. Those first few months were tense, full of anger and discomfort. It took years to get to where you are now. Years of patience, years of waiting, years of proving to Ghost he was worthy of love.
The years had been wonderful. You remember the first time you saw his face, the first time your hands touched his hair. You remember the first time you went out, how his cheeks flushed and his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. You remember how it felt when it got down on one knee, both of you panting and bloody.
Yes, the years had been wonderful, but there had always been a sense of foreboding. Something terrible looming on the horizon. And now, as you hold a cold body, as you card your hands through bloody blonde hair and cry, you know why.
“Stay with me.” You had cried. He had taken a shot meant for you, one bullet straight through his left shoulder and another embedded in his thigh. You had shot the man, emptying your magazine before falling, crashing to your knees beside Ghost’
“Price, I need a Medivac! Ghost is down, gunshot wound to the shoulder and thigh!” You yelled into your comm. Your hands moved to pressure the holes, one to his shoulder, one to his thigh. Just trying to stem the blood. His blood. His blood that bubbled up over your knuckles, thick, hot, and ruby red.
“ETA is 23 minutes.” Price's voice was garbled and broken over the radio, but you could still hear the despair in his voice. You sobbed harder as you realized help will not make it in time.
“Don’t,” Ghost had whispered to you, “I’m not making it out of this one.” His hands moved to your face, gloves shakily wiping tears from your face.
“You’re coming home,” You had snapped at him, voice breaking, “You promised.” He shook his head softly, reaching up to pull his mask off. Blood leaked from his lips as he coughed.
“Kiss me,” He had begged you, “Please.” You had shaken your head frantically, eyes blurring with tears, but you gave in. How could you not? Ghost never asked for anything. You could give him this. Your lips met in what was the most passionate, desperate kiss you had every had. You tasted his blood but didn't care, kissing him like it was last thing you'd ever do. You were kissing him when his body seized, and you cradled his head to your chest as he took his last, gasping breaths. You held him as you felt his body go limp and you held him as his body began growing cold.
Your hand moved to your lips, where his blood was already drying. Tears leaked from your eyes, blurring your vision and soaking the collar of your jacket.
“Please.” You sob into his hair. There is no movement from the man in front of you. Blood seeps from his body, pooling under him, soaking your pant legs. Wind blows your hair around, tears sticking strands of it to your face.
“Simon please,” You practically beg him, “please, please, please.” Your world is breaking apart, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. The only thing that could pull you back from the brink was laying in you lap, unmoving.
Footsteps sound, but you don't go to reach for your gun. You could care less if it is friend or foe. At least you’d be with Ghost if you died.
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and see Soap appear in your blurry vision. The sight of the scot makes you sob harder, your fingers digging into Ghost's unyielding body.
“C’mon sweetheart, let's git him hame.” His Scottish accent fills your ears. His voice is thick, and you can know that the only reason he's not in tears over his best friend is because he's trying to be strong for you.
Your hands shakily trace Ghost’s face, his lips, his scars. You slip his dog tags off and pull them over your head.
“I love you,” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his cold lips, “I love you so fucking much. I love you, I love you, I love you. So wait for me, okay?” You squeeze his lifeless wrist 1,2,3 times. I love you.
Letting go of his body is the hardest thing you have ever done. Soap grabs your arm, helping you up. He lets you lean against him, leading you away as Price and Gaz take the body. You look back with blurry vision, watching them drape a sheet over the stretcher holding your world.
The wind blows across the battlefield, and with it you can hear the echoes of an unheeded warning, a promise of a life of ruin.
I made myself cry while writing this lmao.
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