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fitzjamesbulletwound · 1 day ago

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well i finally made it... here's my episode by episode deep dive into every joplittle moment in the entirety of the terror for all of my fellow joplittle freaks out there. i can't draw or write fiction but i CAN be insane about details :) i did my best to edit this so please forgive me if there's typos or things that don't make sense. and a final note before you start reading- i think i make a point to say this in some instances but it bears repeating at the beginning- i could certainly be wrong about some of these observations as they are largely in the background and usually happen very quickly while something more front facing is happening in the scene. i did my best though!

Episodes 1&2- basically nothing, at the dinner scene in episode 1 we can infer that jopson shuffles behind edward at one point but there’s no onscreen proximity or eye contact. neither of them are in episode 2 at all.

Episode 3: we have one of the joplittle scenes to end all joplittle scenes in this episode. When edward is talking to crozier, blanky, jirv, and hodgson about his fears of netsilik retribution, jopson knocks and walks in the door. When he enters the room, edward immediately stops talking, makes eye contact with him, then starts tugging his jacket down, almost to the point of squirming and fidgeting. Jopson walks into the room making eye contact with edward with the tiniest smile on his face and his eyes are so bright and interesting in this scene. And i think there could be some arguments made that this is just how these two are but i have some additional thoughts- yes edward is an awkward guy but he outranks so many people in that room, jopson most of all, and yet he immediately stops speaking and becomes visibly flustered when jopson walks in. And their eye contact lingers for such a long time before jopson looks to crozier, the person he actually came to address. And just again with how bright jopson’s eyes are and the tiny tiny smile he has on his face when he’s looking at edward that then turns a little more serious when he turns to address crozier. It’s such an interesting scene!

later on when the terror boys are going across the ice to sir john’s funeral, jopson is walking behind edward… he might be looking at him but it’s very hard to tell so i hesitate to even include that instance. HOWEVER during the camera pan when crozier is reading sir john’s eulogy, we see jopson looking up at one point, and then his gaze briefly comes down to the person directly in front of him… which is edward.

Episode 4: When crozier is sitting in the dark drunk and depressed and probably listening to the cranberries and jopson comes in, the script says he shows somebody down the hall five fingers, probably to indicate “give me five minutes”. Since he then says that lieutenant little is asking about the meeting, we can presume they came to see crozier together.

When jopson is giving crozier the headlines of the meeting, the way he talks about what he knows from edward sounds more like it was from an actual conversation they had vs the other two he mentions- he says “mr reid reports” and “lieutenant irving has what sounds like a pressing issue”- both of these expressions imply that he was doing exactly what crozier says he does- hearing everything. but with edward it’s “lieutenant little is wondering, he says/thinks this this and this”. The language used to describe what he knows about what edward will report on is much more direct and familiar. I think ned and jopson were hanging out before they came to see about the meeting with crozier hehe

In the scene where heather gets his shit rocked it’s very hard to keep track of edward and jopson but there is proximity and it’s very possible a few times that they might exchange glances. It certainly seems that when edward goes below decks to arm the men jopson watches him go.

Episode 5 ended up being the most fruitful for pretty clear glances and looks that i had never noticed before

when jopson comes in with the tea tray he and edward look at each other the whole time Jopson is walking to the table to set it down

after Jopson says “consider it done sir” edward watches him as he walks out of the room until crozier stops him, then he looks at crozier

Ned could definitely still be looking as Jopson answers crozier, the line of sight is correct and in the script it specifically says that little has to look away from Jopson (not crozier) as they discuss the whiskey because it makes him so sick that this is being discussed right after talking about hornby’s death

A lot of proximity during the Silna and crozier conversation but I don’t think they look at each other.. Jopson might be looking at Edward when he walks in with silna and he might glance at him when he walks past him after setting the tea tray back down but I’m not sure.

In the script it says that jopson and little exchange a look when crozier says he’ll go to get the alcohol for blanky’s surgery but it looks like it’s him and hodgson looking at each other.. however edward looks at someone offscreen too that would make sense to where jopson is standing at the time. There’s a lot of proximity in that scene where they carry blanky down and set him on the table

Damn that extremely prolonged eye contact when taking the whiskey shots is so interesting too? Especially since it seems like jopson struggles to take the shot.. It seems like he might not drink a lot and that could be for 2 reasons- another callback to historical jopson and him being lashed 30 something times for drunkenness or it could be because of his mother’s addiction which at this point in the story we don’t even know about it. Either one would make sense but if anyone has any ideas please share them

they are right next to each other while blanky gets his leg cut off

In the script it says that jopson brings edward into the room for the meeting with crozier after blanky’s surgery, I believe they are the last two to join but even if not.. interesting for sure.

when crozier stands up to give the whiskey to jopson to pour out, Jopson is looking down but for just a moment before he turns to crozier again he looks at edward

Aaaaaand edward then watches crozier take the last drink of whiskey but then he looks right at Jopson!!!!

When crozier goes to his berth it pans over to Jopson and he eventually looks at ned AGAIN

Ugh I loved this episode because there was truly so much to notice and like it’s there! I need to know why!!

Episode 6: okay we have one of THE joplittle scenes and god fucking bless Liam for his commentary here because there’s just so much to it… like the fact that he’s trying to convey to Edward that things are bad but they will be okay with a single look suggests such a familiarity and closeness and understanding between them because like how would you communicate that with a look to someone that you weren’t on fairly intimate terms with?? (need to make post about other pairs that talk through eye contact in the show, like hickey and tozer). at the very least we have to assume they confide in each other and understand each other to a certain degree and like now we’re slightly straying into delulu land but I love how protective Edward looks when hickey walks over and kinda gets close to jopson lol edward is already watching jopson walk away and he gives hickey this little glare when he realizes hickey is too. also just the simple fact that they were eating together??

When Reid bumps into crozier at carnivale and little tells him to step back he’s looking at jopson and when it cuts to jopson he’s looking back at him

They exchange a glance in the background of crozier reacting to hoar and crispe in the big pot lol

Jopson watches Edward for most of the little clip where crozier is walking away after telling the men to get of the pot

After crozier says they’ll be abandoning the ships and walking Edward looks over at jopson for a long time

When crozier is saying “they are a good people who we can greet as friends” jopson looks over at Edward and looks him up and down twice… that’s 4k babyyyy, that one was crazy

When Stanley sets himself on fire and it cuts to the crowd Edward definitely looks around until he sees jopson in front of him

It’s extremely hard to tell but at one point it looks like ned crozier and jopson are all moving together looking for an exit and ned briefly puts his hand on jopson’s back or at the very least reaches for his back wtffffff

Mmm not sure about this one but in the background of the cleanup scene you can see Edward helping people and it looks like jopson may be with him

Episode 7: ugh the promotion sceeeeene idk what i can say that hasn’t already been said but i will always always always point out that this is the happiest we EVER see Edward in the show, his smile is so huge and throughout the scene he keeps giggling to himself and when he’s still sitting down you can see him kinda do an eyebrow raise thing like “oh my god well I wasn’t expecting that but this is amazing” HE LOVES THAT MAN UUUGH AND THE WAAAAY he looks so fondly at him after he shakes his hand and he just keeps smiling and giggling like everyone is so happy in this scene but Edward is the happiest…

Episode 8: when crozier is yelling at edward for arming the mutiny jopson is turned around watching ned.. Ugh :(

another shot of jopson turning to look at ned before he looks at crozier in this scene

eye contact when Edward walks into the tent where Irving’s body is

definitely some potential eye contact when they’re asking hodgson to confirm that hickey lied

jopson watches Edward when he’s explaining why they shouldn’t trust the marines

edward is looking at jopson right before crozier says to find the carpenters

Episode 9: what i believe is the last joplittle scene…. god it’s so rough. I feel like jopson is so hurt because he knows his time is coming and i feel like Edward thinks everyone in that tent including jopson will be able to continue to haul south… ugh and then jopson just stares Edward down the whole time when dundy starts talking :(

Episode 10: when edward is walking to the tent to address the men his gaze lingers on the sick tent where jopson is now…

i also find it very interesting that he was all about going south and leaving the sick behind in episode 9 but completely changes his tune now- i know that this has to do with saving crozier but he makes such a strong argument for not leaving the ill behind (although he of course obviously somehow does) that it makes me wonder if jopson had anything to do with that.. like a big difference between when they first made the proposal and now is that jopson could still haul when they suggested it before but he can’t now

And his reasonings point to jopson a lot too- “9 so ill they can’t walk, only 2 able bodied lieutenants” like he was thinking of him!!

and one last fucking thing before I fucking die- edward’s last word “close?” mirrors some of jopson’s first- “we’re close sir”.. They are the last two to be found by crozier, two of the men who saw almost everything and died last… ugh.

Final thoughts: i will constantly make the argument that when it comes to the terror, absolutely nothing is on accident. Nothing. Some of the scenes i described can certainly be debated but the simple fact is, edward and jopson spend a lot of their scenes together exchanging looks and watching each other. It is safe to assume based on their roles that they must share at least a small amount of familiarity but i think that these shared glances suggest a deeper connection. They seem to be able to communicate seamlessly without ever really speaking to one another and when they aren’t communicating through their eyes, they are still watching each other in shared scenarios. I would love to know more about whether this was just how liam and matthew chose to act their dynamic or if there’s more to say about them. Either way i’m going to keep being delusional about them because i love them together and i think there’s ample evidence to prove that they are more familiar than we might realize

#the terror #joplittle #edward little #thomas jopson

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glitter-stained · 3 days ago

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A psychoanalytical reading of Lost Days and Under the Hood, because I hate myself and hate Freud even more

*bracing myself to talk shit* Okay, let's do this. Last warning to back off if you like psychoanalysis or even have a nuanced take on this. This is the graveyard where nuance comes to die.

First thing first, this is not intended to be an attack on Judd Winick: I do not know if he has actually read anything on psychoanalysis, and though it would make so much sense if it were intentional, it could totally be that Winick had passing knowledge of psychoanalysis from a source similar to one my short-form tumblr shitposts and other general pop culture information, thought "huh, neat, I always thought manipulative hot MILF Talia was a cool concept" and ran with it. Or that any other thought process went into it. I am extremely critical of the decisions he has made in his portrayal of mental illness and Talia specifically, but I'm not gonna criticise him on the assumption that it was psychoanalytical. I say this because the rest of this post is gonna sound like I think it was on purpose: I think it could, but I don't think I have enough knowledge about Judd Winick and enough clarity in the text to be crystal clear that this is what directed his writing (unless I missed one Easter egg in the back of an image, that would be very fun.) I'm also not gonna make fun of Winick for writing psychoanalysis fiction if he did do it on purpose, because so did I when I was a misguided highschooler, and many therapists have not gotten past that phase despite dedicating their life to it so there's no judgement on that part. With that being said, I think it's a super valid reading, so let's talk about this. Also, I'll talk a lot about Freud because he's the founding father of this shit, but there are many other psychoanalysts who came after him, all putting their own brick in the wall; all of them are wrong, but many are more moderate and do not have the extraordinary audacity of the first culprit.

#dc #jason todd #jason todd meta #the jason Todd psychological analysis meta #red hood #red hood lost days #under the red hood #dc comics #anti psychoanalysis #anti freud #batman

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pleasantphantomhologram · 2 days ago

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Title: longing (Part 1)(PART 2)

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Warning: Modern Setting, Fertility problem, Angst, Hurt.

Summary: When the doctor said that you will lose your chance to have a children, suddenly your world collapse, but Marcus Acacius, your husband is there no matter what's your choice.

A/N: Hello! i just want to drop this fanfiction that have been on my draft since i dont know when. so... yeah, enjoy the part 1. Please leave a note,if you are interest for the part 2 :') (I am so sorry if it is there any grammar error, it is not my main language :'( )

"You are the only matter to me Y/N. No matter what you choose, I will support you."

The baby's cries were like the incessant honking of cars at a busy city intersection. Y/N stared blankly at the dull white ceiling of her hospital room. This shared room was meant for two patients, and she didn't know much about the woman in the next bed, but she was certain the other woman had just given birth to her first child.

Child, a familiar word on the tip of her tongue, yet so foreign at the same time. For Y/N, having a child was a small dream she had harbored for a long time because having a small family with Acacius was the meaning of happiness for her. Acacius, a middle-aged man who had unexpectedly entered Y/N's life and promised to be by her side until death did them part, the man who was always there for her when she had to endure the severe cramps every time her period came, the man who only looked at her with concern and not judgment when the doctor said...

"I'm sorry, but it's no longer possible to save Mrs. Y/N's uterine wall,"

Acacius held Y/N's hand, which was starting to tremble as the doctor's verdict filled the room.

"No, there must be another way, doc, I'm still young, not even thirty yet."

"Once again, I'm sorry Mrs. Y/N, but your fibroids are too large and attached to your uterine wall."

"NO! IT'S JUST A NORMAL FIBROIDS, WHY DOES MY UTERINE WALL HAVE TO BE REMOVED TOO?" Y/N's anger came out in every word she uttered.

"Y/N, hey, calm down, honey."

"NO, THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE JUDGEMENT..."

Acacius slowly embraced Y/N, who was now starting to become hysterical. Removing her uterine wall? Really? It was like forcibly taking her soul away, and it was so cruel. The man hugged her tightly, stroking Y/N's back slowly, hoping his wife knew that even though this was difficult, the most important thing for him was for her to get healthy and smile again like the first time they met.

"Hey, Y/N. Please listen to me for a moment, honey? Please look at me. I know this is so heartbreaking for us. Yes, I know you will feel less than any woman, but the only thing that matters to me is you becoming healthy again. You are still my wife, the one I chose to be with forever. Screw people and society. Please, baby, we will get through this together. I promise it will be hard at first, but trust me, it will be alright." Acacius said, his hand gently touched the lines of Y/N's face and directed her eyes, which were now filled with tears, to look into Acacius's eyes.

"I love you, always. with or without children. You are the only matter to me Y/N. No matter what you choose, I will support you."

Their conversation in the doctor's room a few days ago echoed in her mind, accompanied by the sound of Acacius's anger coming from outside the hospital ward. Her husband was protesting to the hospital staff about their decision to place her in the same ward with all the women who had just given birth. Of course, he was angry, very angry to be exact. How could the hospital staff be so heartless, when it was clear that she had a different condition than the others? He was afraid that all this would add stress to her life.

You could still faintly hear Acacius insisting on moving you, who had just finished having your uterine wall removed, to a VIP room. Shortly after that, Acacius came back into the room and sat beside you. His expression still looked angry, but he tried to hide it.

"Honey.., talk to me..,"

"I am so sorry Y/N"

" It's not your fault."

"I am so sorry, I swear I will make things a lot easier for you." said Acacius.

"You are here. and it is already enough."

Acacius looked at Y/N, you knew he was calming himself down as his fingers slowly held your fingers and kissed them.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #your name #marcus acacius x reader #fanfiction

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notlongtolove · 3 days ago

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And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong I'm right where you left me

this work is part of the burnt norton series and a continuation of part 3! spoilers ahead!

“Okay.”

Your heart beats painfully in your throat. As soon as you say it, the air shifts—just the slightest change, but it feels like everything has rearranged itself. It feels soft, almost fragile, whispered like your confession all those nights ago. But it's different now. You say it with a certainty you never had before. The kind of certainty that comes with time, pain, and of knowing what you want, even if you’re still fucking terrified.

“Okay?” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face like he’s bracing himself for the moment you’ll take it all back.

“Okay,” you say again, a little firmer this time, though your voice still wavers slightly.

“Okay, okay,” he says again, his words coming in a rush as he exhales shakily, like he’s trying to steady himself. “I mean it. Everything I said—I meant all of it. We’ll do this right this time. One more chance. I’ll do anything—everything—to show you I mean it. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I promise.”

You look up at him and see the way his eyes soften, how his hand trembles as he reaches up to wipe the tears you hadn’t realised were still falling. His fingers brush your face as he cradles your cheek, and it feels like he’s touching something fragile.

"I love you," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word.

You want to laugh and cry at the same time. You want to shout, to scream at the injustice of it all. Why did he leave? Why did he make himself a martyr, walking away when he knew how much it hurt? Why now? After everything, why is this the moment he finally says it?

But all of that—every question, every emotion, every unanswered why—fades as you look at him, his vulnerability laid bare. You could yell, you could throw all your pain and anger at him, but you don’t. Instead, you smile. It’s not a perfect smile, no doubt made questionable by the tears still subsiding—But it’s real. It’s messy, complicated, and raw.

“I love you too.”

It’s not a confession anymore—It’s a statement of truth, a fact, clear and simple.

And then, Spencer is leaning in to kiss you with a fervour so intense you didn’t know it was possible. His lips crash against yours with a desperate kind of longing, urgent, as though he’s afraid if he pulls away even for a moment, he just might lose you again. Between kisses, he whispers it again. I love you. I love you. I love you. He says it over and over until it begins to sound less like a sentence and more like a prayer or a plea. You’re not entirely sure which, but you feel the weight of both.

It’s a desperation that speaks to the very essence of our existence—the way the tide always returns to shore, no matter how many times it’s pushed away, or how a flower blooms, fully aware it will wither. We love, we fall, we keep going—whether it's with our heads held high or with knees scraped and bloody, we continue on and we love once more.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader angst

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lilacxquartz · 3 days ago

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CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku x fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • << previous chapter • next chapter >> • chapter directory

summary: as you slept, kenjaku has a series of flashbacks back to when it all started, leading to problems in the waking world.

trigger warnings: referenced violence/past abuse & mentioned dissociation.

Chapter 8. Origins

You slept oddly peacefully given your grave predicament and although Kenjaku had already made up his mind about not sending you into an early grave, he still enjoyed the reign of power that he held over your very existence.

He lay there in bed with you, with his fingertips dancing around your pulse point, finding the feeling to be nothing short of thrilling—if even exciting—however, now he had a slight predicament that robbed him of a good rest.

He couldn’t help but feel like this whole situation was doomed to be like all of those other times and that it would all end up in the same old rut. The bigger issue being if he did care or not. Surely, if his mind refused to give him a clear answer, then it did bother him more than he let on.

Although, eventually, he too slipped off into sleep, or something close to it. The environment around him felt so familiar, though, so perhaps it was a memory rather than a dream that he was experiencing.

Muted tones of cobalt blue and sterile white painted his surroundings in clinical hues. Cast just overhead, a blinding white fluorescent light basked him in an almost, blinding glow. This place wasn’t new. He knew where he was perfectly well. From the droning buzz of the machinery that whirred in the background to the monotonous blipping of the monitors. He was back at work—but something felt off about it—something wrong.

Kenjaku considered the possibility of this being a cruel joke of some kind. Maybe he had hallucinated quitting the mundane to begin with, and had never left this wretched building at all. Maybe he was coming down from finally diving off the deep end, the high at last grounding him back into reality from what was a very convincing fantasy?

His eyes wandered around the space again. It couldn’t have been real. He could just tell. He was lucid enough to be able to tell that he was experiencing a dream—be it actually a memory, a warped flashback—or whatever else, but that was as far as the control extended. Everything else was out of his steer and he couldn’t do much else other than to remain seated within his body in a dormant state, watching the dream pass by on autopilot as the passenger.

The world outside the windows to the building just barely existed either, somehow making the hospital feel all the more real. That’s how it felt back then too. How depressing. The windows even now, were still fogged up from the perpetually spitting rain just outside—the skies somehow always overcast. Fellow nurses barked out his name in clipped, impatient tones as patients clung to his hands like he was some sort of saviour. In this particular glimpse into his past, however, everyone was a shadow, with not a single face retained.

Kenjaku’s mind scrambled as fleeting fragments of his old life passed him by on a whim, unable to determine why he was revisiting this part of his life. The experience was tilting, making him feel nauseous at the thought. He was everywhere all at once while not actually present anywhere at all—both carrying the burden and yet being free of it all the same. Monotony was the gist of it; day in and day out for years—a meaningless blur.

At some point, however, the dream forced him to pause, the hallway he found himself walking down growing longer with each passing footstep. The walls and windows smudged into something unrecognisable. The smell of copper lingered in the air and his hands felt warm, sticky, and laden with something he couldn’t quite force his gaze to follow while having a good idea as the walls smeared red.

A voice called out his name not too long after, forcing him to go stop and backtrack a few steps, the room at the end of the hallway not seeming so important anymore. It was soft and hesitant and as he responded to it, he let slip of your name without even realising it.

As a result, he couldn’t help but follow the voice, finding himself be drawn back into the long winding corridors where he had once lost his mind and as he did so, the voice became clearer to the point where it was almost jarring—but also, not yours. No, he recognised it perfectly well in fact.

A ghost from his memory.

The person that this whole thing started with.

When he entered the ward, it was exactly as he remembered it. A small, cluttered room with barely any privacy, save some stained curtains. His role in the hospital was supportive mostly, usually in the confines of whatever doctor he found himself shadowing, but one case in particular unlocked an almost morbid curiosity for him. He remembered this person to be some sort of unusual anomaly that gnawed in the back of his mind.

She kept getting pregnant—trying for a child—but the kids always came out wrong, dead or with a serious issue, lost within days. It kept happening and she always waited out past the point of an abortion, creating a problem each time. This was her third try and at first he was almost sympathetic, wondering if this was some thinly veiled attempt as a cry for help, given that the self-inflicted sabotage was repeating, but then his empathy was quickly lost, giving way into an almost clinical fascination instead.

He ended up spending time with this woman when the hospitals were starkly quiet, rendering her a specimen of some kind to study rather than to fix—awakening something within him that had been dormant for far too long.

The world around him back then slowed in her presence, with everything else fading into the distance. She was for a while, the sharpest focus of his study, but it was always boring whenever she got better. So he started to tamper with her progress with that same detached reverence that one might have had for a studied specimen, marveling at the sight as her body continued to hold itself against the odds.

Soon enough, he began to wonder just how much a person could be pushed before they were to break? How much one’s body could endure before they revealed some sort of truth about themselves that not even they knew?

He found it within that patient, at least, right at the cusp of death. The baby lived by some miracle, although it carried on a rare blood disorder, adorned with an unforgiving birthmark right across its face. Just as her eyes locked on the newborn, an answer formed in her eyes, her life slipping away right before he could hear it.

Kenjaku remembered the feeling of disappointment back then but not out of sadness or grief, but because she had left him hanging. How selfish, he thought back to himself again, leaving him in the dark like that.

He then blinked, finding himself somewhere else. A cold air hit his body, plunging him somewhere outside instead, far away from the hospital. The sterile corridors and ambient drone were gone and his surroundings faded away into something else entirely. He paused, recognising this as reality—but he wasn’t in bed with you—instead stood outside in the pouring rain, with the downpour seeping through his robes.

Such a change of scenery made him pause and he stood still as he tried to recollect himself, his heart beating fast. The sky above was still dark, the moon was just barely lacing through the passing clouds and the asphalt where he stood flooded slightly, leaving him more drenched than he would have liked.

Somehow, he didn’t hear the rain though—everything was silent, everything was still—and then finally, it wasn’t.

Without warning, a flash of red burst into his line of sight, flaring across his vision in a vivid explosion. His heart stuttered, nearly stilling in his chest. His hands twitched at his sides as he tried to ground himself back into reality and just as it started to all fade—the redness bled through again, pulsing in and out of the darkness in tune with his racing pulse. Each flash was sharper than the last, cutting into his vision like honed steel. He closed his eyes to block it all out, only for the colour to be burnt into his mind like a stain, leaving behind scarring sanguine in the dark.

When his eyes fluttered open again, the circumstances had changed once more. Everything was clearer that time—everything was real. He was awake this time, he could feel it. His eyes drifted down at last, fixing on his hands. They were red, just barely washed off from what they were doused within. It was without question blood—thick and congealed—clinging to his skin like molten carmine, digging beneath his fingernails and settling between the creased lines of his palms.

It was then that he realised that he was holding onto something.

A piece of torn fabric, maybe belonging to ripped clothing. At first, all he did was swallow hard, trying to process what he was seeing, making out specks of red strands reflected in the warm glow of the streetlights above, his mind racing back to you as a result, wondering what must have happened. Such a slip of the grasp on his reality made him question if he did something potentially irreversible—leading him to wonder if letting you get so close to him was a mistake on his part—if it was never meant to be at all.

Kenjaku blinked, his mind repeating the same question.

Where were you, exactly?

He found himself calling out your name into the empty streets, his voice coming out dry and hoarse. The surroundings churned once more, the rain blurring into marred strobes as red clouded his vision again. The rain continued to fall sharp against his skin as the world grew muted against his will; fleeting glimpses of shadows drifting in and out of his line of sight. It was disorienting to the point where he couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t at that point.

Kenjaku, trying to ground himself, stumbled forward as he tried to walk, finding his hands palming against what felt like brick walls even if he did appear to be back in the hospital once again.

Think, think, think—he demanded of himself, with not a single answer coming to mind.

He tried to walk back—to push through this whole mess—the area at least now seeming faintly familiar even if he was still fairly out of it. He couldn’t have gone too far, surely, and yet as he continued forward, the flashbacks started to happen again, assaulting his mind with conflicting imagery.

In a hasty flurry, a rush of faces flickered in his mind like a flip book of everyone he once made suffer, their names either long forgotten or a mere faint recollection. He blinked rapidly, remembering everyone else that it all started with. The terminal cases that nobody expected to recover; abused until they were eternally silenced by his own hands. Kenjaku remembered the fading life in their eyes; always the same look of an answer trapped in their gaze and yet never a clear admission as to what. Such a look haunted him, making him grow crazed—into a man obsessed. He had to dig slower, to push beyond the moral boundaries of what was right and what could extract answers—not quite caring how far he had to go, as long as he found out what he wanted.

(Of what made people truly human.)

He remembered certain people in fragments. Such as the elderly man who was close to being a corpse already, his body locked in a vegetative state. Kenjaku would linger for hours in the ward, running secretive tests that served no purpose other than to satisfy his curiosity, pushing past the limits of what such a husk of a body could endure. He logged every little reaction and every subtle twitch as he searched for signs of an answer that he didn’t even understand.

Comatose patients were the easiest to get away with when practicing such depravity, at least back in the earlier days. The face of a woman crept into his confronted memory; an unfortunate case of a comatose state as the consequence of drunk driving. She was a quiet case, so for a hot moment, nobody noticed all of those injection sites nor the incisions made in her skin, and due to her subdued state—it wasn’t as though she could feel all of those things either. He experimented in all sorts of ways, but just like before, the silence quickly grew boring.

It was after that point that he understood that he had to go even deeper. The sick and the quiet victims with their inability to fight back nor intervene were easy targets, but they were limited by their frail states and already broken bodies. No, Kenjaku found himself growing greedy, wanting more—needing much more, even if it meant that he would lose himself in order to get the results he wanted.

The memory then shifted, leading him somewhere stable again, but he was still dreaming—he could tell that much. The side rooms to the hospital corridor he was in before were all gone, forcing him to walk towards the end of the hallway. Albeit tentatively, he pushed inside, recognising the room as the office that belonged to his old boss. A small dim light just barely illuminated the space and a warm liquid gushed to trickle past his feet, hitting his senses with something metallic and suffocating. The smell was different from his memory, however—attacking his nostrils with the smell of phantom rot.

He blinked towards the sight of his former boss slumped in his desk chair, the body barely held together, the flesh parting from the bone. Kenjaku remembered it all faintly at this point, but there was one memory that stuck with him the most. The sickening crack of the man’s skull when he had finally succeeded in cracking it open—remembering just how calm he was when he gave into violence—how it all felt so right.

The memory, like with the strange rift between his dreams and reality, however, went blank when remembering a certain point. There was a witness to all of this. A janitor. Perhaps that was his first encounter when it came to losing himself. He still hadn’t the faintest clue what happened after, the details lost to his mind. All that he remembered was that one minute he was cleaning away blood-soaked splintered fragments of wood and the next, he was in the maintenance uniform, staring at himself in the mirror like he was somebody he didn’t quite recognise, yet accepting the stolen name as if it was his own.

Then, at last, he returned to the living, present world once more. Kenjaku still felt a touch out of place from the experience that was just inflicted upon him, but this time he was sure that he could handle his reality once more. He walked back in his suddenly acquired clarity, finding the studio apartment again without an issue, albeit feeling a lot worse than before. Now that he was out of such a strange state, he felt cold, the night chilling him from the bone. His clothing was now soaked and heavy, leaving him longing for a shower to wash the sensation away.

His hands still held onto the fabric tightly woven between his fingers. For a second, he was reminded of you again, causing him to tighten his grip around it as he fought back a feeling he still didn’t understand at all.

As he entered back inside, he paused in his footsteps, seeing you fast asleep in bed as the light from the building’s stairwell spilled partially inside. Your chest rose with each passing breath and your face looked at peace, with not a single part of you harmed at all.

Kenjaku stepped closer, his eyes fixing on your sleeping form.

The sight of you in bed, tangled between the bedsheets filled him with more tension than ever before. It wasn’t that he was disappointed in seeing you seeming, very much relieved that you were alive, but something in him churned—contorting into something else entirely. He stood, locked in place in the doorway, the rain dripping from his clothes and settling onto the floor, simply just staring at you.

Whose blood was that then?

He had no idea. The fact that there were gaps in his memory that couldn’t be recalled at all made all the matters worse. He tried for now to shake it off, hopping straight into the shower instead. Questions kept popping up, like who was—where was the original person and better yet, where did he leave them?

Kenjaku clenched his jaw as the hot water washed over him, the rising steam only barely calming his nerves. If this had happened while he wasn’t in control—if he did this without his own retained knowledge, then there was a chance that he executed the scene sloppily, potentially leaving behind something that he shouldn’t have.

He let out a cool breath as he left the shower, drying himself completely before getting back into bed with you—pulling you tight up against his chest as if to convince himself that you were in fact real, that he didn’t do something that he, for once, didn’t want to do.

The very thought made him react in an almost nauseous state and he almost didn’t want to go to sleep again just in case he would do something that he missed out on again. This—you were his biggest curiosity yet, so he wouldn’t take such an opportunity to learn away so soon.

(…Would he?)

~~~

The apartment was quiet when you next stirred, with the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains. You shifted restlessly through the blanket, tearing awake as if from a nightmare—although you couldn’t recall it upon waking up. Your fingertips brushed across his body as you stretched and yawned, trying to shake off the exhaustion from your body entirely.

Kenjaku was already awake, his face adorned with deep-set eye bags that bruised over his complexion. You didn’t question it though. He remained perched on the edge of the small bed, watching you with such an unwavering intensity that made your heart flutter, but not in a warm way. If you were being honest, he still unsettled you, but now you had the knowledge that you did the same thing to him.

So perhaps that’s all it was. You let out a sharp breath of air at the thought, laughing to yourself.

“You’re in a better mood,” he observed, his tone softer but his gaze still tightly fixed.

You sat up slowly, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. Overall, there was something different about you that you couldn’t quite place. A quiet confidence swept through your body that hadn’t been otherwise present before, stripping away the cautious demeanour that you had let on prior. It was as if whatever invisible wall you had encased yourself within was finally beginning to crumble, your guard, despite last night’s events and its follow up, letting itself down at long, long last.

“Yeah,” you yawned out, slipping on your clothes that you had otherwise discarded on the floor. “I guess… I guess I am.”

Kenjaku took note of this shift, deciding to accept it as it was. He was in favour of you adopting a more consistent, maybe stable personality. Perhaps last night, whether it was too early or if it was wrong to happen, dissolved away some sort of barrier between the two of you, leaving nothing hidden.

“I’ll be taking you with me today, like we discussed,” he disclosed a moment later, moving to get dressed himself.

You watched as he fussed with the robes, wondering if the entire get-up was as worth it as he let on. “Oh yeah, I remember. Something about meeting with the acquaintances in the city.”

“That’s right,” he replied, “just one thing though—remember to call me Geto. Don’t slip up and use the name I gave you.”

Without meaning to, you snorted at the thought. “These guys take orders from a monk?” you asked, wondering just what sort of strange identity he kept up with these people. You knew that he was moonlighting a certain identity under wraps, but you thought that he would have been transparent with the people he potentially worked with.

Kenjaku scoffed, although his expression turned amused. “It is what it is. I found them after. They know what I do to an extent, but they don’t need to know the full story. Especially since I’m going to fuck them over in the long run.”

“Aww, and you’re telling me that?” you asked, tilting your head curiously to the side as he told you.

“I’m telling you so that you won’t get too chummy with them,” he corrected you.

“I won’t,” you replied, adopting a teasing tone a moment after, “but alright murder monk, I’ll call you Geto for today.”

Kenjaku blinked. “Murder monk? Really? Out of all the things you could call me—that’s what you choose to go with?”

“It’s fitting, so suck it up,” you shrugged, your lips curling a little bit, “you’ll take whatever I give you, right?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you on the matter, still feeling curious more so than resigned with wherever this whole thing went. Although, despite his displayed composure leaving nothing to doubt beneath the surface—he was still reeling from the night before. Whatever this was, was nice and for that reason, he couldn’t let something similar happen again, because what if he—nevermind.

He’ll fix it, one way or another. Or at least figure out what triggered it and then figure out where to go from that point on.

~~~

The meet-up happened at a quaint little cafe tucked away into some sleepy neighbourhood in the quieter end of Tokyo, somewhere within a residential district. It wasn’t that you minded such a place at all, but you where wondering what on earth this innocent cafe had done to become the host of something potentially awful.

You warily sat down next to him, seating yourself on the cushioned pastel-green chairs, your eyes drifting down to the whimsical checkered yellow tablecloth. Kenjaku nursed a plate of some sort of sponge cake and a hot milky latte, while the rest of the table too, watched on with slight annoyance—save for a man with steel-blue long hair who had ordered something similar.

As they ate in tense silence, you took your time to familiarise yourself with the three new people. The one who too, had ordered such an unsuspecting dessert in addition to Kenjaku was referred to as Mahito. Somehow, despite how attuned he seemed to be in comparison to Kenjaku, he bore a more chaotic undertone. Unsettling was definitely it, but just his overall appearance with messy scars decorating his body, with his messy hair—the overall vibe… was just different, that was all.

Next to him, sat a broad-shouldered figure who referred to himself as Jogo. He sat there with a grumpy expression, cradling a floral mug of plain black coffee. Just beneath the table, a crackling sound played just out of view—his other hand holding onto a small disposable lighter—his thumb fidgeting with the spark wheel, as if to soothe himself.

Finally, there was a woman. A quiet and composed figure who sat with long, dark brown hair packed into a tousled bun. Her form was broad and muscular just like her companions with her overall presence radiating an almost intimidating energy. Despite this, there was a certain calmness about her that made you drift towards her more than the others. This person was known as Hanami—and she sat herself in the middle, quietly waiting for the meeting to start.

“So, Geto…” Mahito began, finally finishing up his treat, playfully flicking over some residue icing towards Kenjaku. “You’re a bit later than usual, keeping us all waiting like that. Didn’t you say that punctuality was important?”

Kenjaku remained calm, adopting a light-hearted demeanour. The facade he let on was a carefully crafted one and there was not a single hint of hostility in the air, but something about the cold dead look that didn’t match the warmth in his expression, was a sure giveaway.

“Apologies,” he gently spoke, his voice soft, “I overslept. I wouldn’t miss this meeting for a second—it’s been a while, after all.”

“Yeah?” Jogo snorted, choosing not to address your presence. None of them did beyond the simple pleasantries, which comforted you a great deal. “This better be important,” he added.

“Patience Jogo,” Kenjaku smiled, maintaining his performance as someone calm and collected. “I have an important job for you all, actually.”

“Something fun?” Mahito piped up, his eyes beaming with glittering wonder.

“Not exactly,” he replied in a fixed tone as if to let the guy down gently. It was bizarre with how he spoke, seeming almost carefree. It was as if he was a guardian or a mentor of some kind, counselling some sort of troubled band of outcasts, rather than overseeing a couple of thugs. “I have something that needs monitoring before we can move forward with our main plans, but I can assure you all that it will be beneficial in accomplishing the goals that we all agreed upon,” he added, leaning forward, “although,” he let slip a scoff, “it’s a bit selfish, I’ll admit. I’m going to need you all to be my eyes and ears, and if you notice anything unusual, such as… police poking their noses where they usually wouldn’t, then I’ll trust you to report to me.”

“So, are we just sweeping up the potential crumbs you’re leaving behind, or what?” Jogo huffed.

Kenjaku smiled. “Something like that, but I do promise that it’s so that I can move forward with the plans we had all once discussed. After all, we wouldn’t want the police to be snooping around where we’re set to carry out our operations, now would we?”

The group collectively nodded, begrudgingly accepting their position. Hanami didn’t say a word and Jogo only grunted, but Mahito seemed restless even after accepting the role. He seemed to stir at the idea, not quite accepting something so plain. “Aww, come on. You called us out here to get us to be your watchdogs?”

“Actually Mahito,” Kenjaku considered, “there is something that I’d like for you to do,” he revealed, standing up and gesturing for the man to follow, “a word outside, if you please,” his request sounding velvet smooth.

You were left behind for the time being, focusing all that you could on the comforting figure who continued to regard you with a calm, albeit almost eerie smile. Unlike Kenjaku however, there seemed to be something genuinely warm about her that didn’t leave you unsettled in her company. Kenjaku on occasion flicked his sights back, taking note how you were talking to Hanami, not quite liking the view. He warned you to not be chummy with the group and yet there you were.

Focusing on the matters at hand however, Kenjaku schooled his voice into something a touch more serious and authoritative—although, to keep up Mahito’s compliance—he used both such a tone and words alike that made the mission seem like more than it was. How easily manipulated were those around him given a nudge in the right direction.

“I’m going to need your help with a delicate matter,” he revealed, catching Mahito’s attention right away, “something… risky, but only if you think you can handle it.”

Mahito’s eyes lit up, his lips melting into a lazy, almost arrogant grin. “I can do anything you can do.”

Bait and hook. Kenjaku broke his lips into a measured smile in return. “I thought about all of those ideas that we discussed,” he began, referring to a point in time where Mahito had many ideas for how people could be ‘studied’, “and I’ve been thinking, you know, that it’s your time to shine while I keep a low cover,” fully intending for him to get caught, buying some time if possible should such an outcome occur.

“Like…” Mahito trailed off, propping a finger to his lips in thought before tilting his head off to the side. “Like… a copycat, right?”

“Something like that,” Kenjaku nodded. “Think you can outshine me?”

“I can try!” Mahito practically bounced, already anticipating the idea.

“Good,” Kenjaku nodded, but then suddenly seemed serious as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a now coarsely dried piece of fabric from the night before, the old blood settled between the threads, “and also,” he brought his voice down to a low murmur, “see if you can find a match for this. I’d like to know who it belongs to, or if there’s a scene out there that matches a struggle that hasn’t been contained yet. Run some matches—do whatever—check the morgues, the dumpsters if need be. Do whatever and if you can’t find anything at all, then…” he trailed off, his eyes darkening slightly, “then… report back anyway.”

“Oh, what have you done then?” Mahito asked, failing to pick up on the suddenly hostile atmosphere, blissfully unaware and purely curious. It wasn’t his fault for being so inquisitive, so ever questioning the world around him. That’s why Mahito was technically the perfect person for this whole job in a sense, his unrelenting nature to figure out what made everything tick was a valuable trait above everything else.

Regrettably, Kenjaku stiffened, letting slip his composure for a fleeting second. “Let’s not ask too many questions,” he warned before smoothing out the jagged edges of his spiking temper, taking on a once again assured tone, “we don’t want to ruin the surprise, now do we?”

Mahito paused for a moment but kept quiet at the prospect of mystery. Despite this, he pouted slightly at the idea of being left in the dark, even if he didn’t let it before him outwardly. “Fine Geto, you’re sometimes just so cryptic, you know—it’s just no fun,” he playfully sulked, continuing to however accept his assigned task, “but alright, I’ll look into it. Can I…?”

He tilted his head slightly, wondering if Mahito was setting up his question to be what he thought it was going to be. “The person doesn’t have to be left alive if you find them,” he correctly guessed, “just as long as they’re found and disposed of correctly.”

“Gotcha!” Mahito accepted.

Kenjaku nodded to himself, turning his gaze back towards you once more, watching how you carried yourself in a quiet conversation with Hanami just opposite the table. Jogo remained indifferent to you, which he supposed was a good thing—that was as neutral as the arsonist could ever get. Knowing that he had to screw these people over at some point though, his mind flickered with the notion of something different from seeing you act on good terms with them both—it wasn’t quite jealousy, but it was enough to make him feel uneasy the longer he left you alone.

Pulling you away once the meeting concluded, he muttered out a terse warning, “I told you, don’t get too close—also, it’s time to go, so come.”

You shrugged it off, following him out of the cafe, parting your way with the three in a flash. Kenjaku walked at a brisk pace back toward the busier confines of the city. You kept up with him just fine as the time went on, although you were confused as to why he seemed so agitated, and, every so often, he’d set his eyes on you, making sure that you were keeping up with him before he eventually, at last, slowed down.

The vibrant hum of the returning city eventually enveloped him, his shoulders sagging slightly at the sight. Something internally was exhausting him—even if he did feel at ease with you, already understanding that much about the dynamic you both shared. He let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes for just a short moment, but within just a beat, he was back in the hospital again. The stark image of the crimson-soaked office filled out his line of sight again, pushing him into the long and winding hallway that stretched impossibly narrow with him in it.

He froze, trying to will himself out of it. Not right now, not right now. Kenjaku tried to ground himself as the episode looped—his nails biting half-moon crescents that bled right into his palms. Soon enough with enough applied force, he was able to push the invasive images aside for now, driving himself into the present moment once more—but there was one little problem.

You weren’t there with him anymore.

He froze at the realisation, his eyes darting around almost manically as he scanned the streets around him. The crowd was endless, but he still couldn’t see you anywhere. Not even as much as a glimpse of you passed into his vision, causing his chest to tighten—a foreign sensation overwhelming his being and he hated every second of it.

“Where did you go?” he murmured to himself, his mind racing all over the place.

For the first time, in what felt like his entire existence, Kenjaku felt a hint of panic begin to form in his core. His pulse quickened as his eyes zigzagged restlessly, yet not once locking onto something that had even resembled you. His heartbeat felt heavy, despite how rapidly it was pounding and in the blurring haze of his lapsing clarity—the world around him felt as if it was slowing down.

At first, he tried to think rationally. Thinking maybe that you slipped off somewhere into a store nearby or that you went back to the studio, or even to the bathroom, but the longer he waited around, the emptier the world became. The images from the night before crept back into his mind—the undeniable sight of blood dripping from his hands. He never cared about those he killed, but something about yesterday left him feeling hesitant—perhaps even uneasy.

The gaps in his memory were starting to feel less like cracks and more like a fully split void that he couldn’t stop himself from falling into again and again—stuck in a brutal loop of his past meddling with the present.

What if… you had slipped away from him and escaped?

You wouldn’t do that to him—to yourself—you wanted this, right?

So, what if he then… what if he—no.

Unless he slipped up this time around—unless he had done something while he wasn’t aware of it, then maybe it was really fine. There was no blood on his hands this time around, but that much wasn’t comforting enough. There were many ways one could take a life that didn’t require a single drop to be spilled—he knew that much perfectly well.

Kenjaku stopped, forcing a calm breath to trickle out of his lungs. The world around him began to blur with nothing left clear, but then he heard something. He heard you. Suddenly, his hands were full of some sort of pink-colored drink in a tall plastic cup while you held onto something similar, immediately going for a sip.

Without even thinking about it, he pressed his lips against the straw in a daze, letting the strawberry taste hit his senses.

“So, do you like it?” you asked him, watching for his reaction.

He blinked, masking his response. “Oh yeah, this is good—how’d you know I’d like this?”

“You’re so funny,” you replied, nudging at him with more comfort than you had ever displayed before, “you asked me to get you one of these. Unless… I got the wrong one, somehow?”

Kenjaku joked his way out of it, letting the familiarity of the stable situation ease him back into being around you. Something about you was bringing out a side of him that he couldn’t l control and much to his concern, if it carried on down this road, then it was potentially going to be a problem for him.

Especially with everything else he had going on.

For his sake—and potentially yours—he needed to figure out why this was even happening at all.

And why it seemed to be caused specifically by you.

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thebookworm0001 · 6 months ago

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i can't quite put words together about it but it is very funny and telling that when solas talks to you on your balcony, it is wildly obvious in retrospect how he's trying to figure out if you're more like the spirits he considers people than the rest of thedas

"your mind, your morals, your [insert massive pause and look off into the distance] spirit"

like, i wonder which one of those things matters most to you in this moment. you'd never be able to tell

#dragon age #solas #watching my recordings of the solavellan romance again #i wonder what direction gdl got in the booth about this line #he didn't know about the fen'harel thing until trespasser #just that solas had secrets #also a very good example of solas' cognitive dissonance #he desperately needs you to be One of The Good Ones so he doesn't feel as guilty about what he's going to do #and he is clinging to the idea that his magic changed you #even though it is very clear it did not and he is wrong #but admitting that will break him so he can't #none of this is new i'm just thinking out loud

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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 1 month ago

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I gotta say, a personal pet peeve of mine is when people get really into Scourge (making aus and fanart and fics and posts and whatnot) and go "OMG Scourge needs someone to be like his Tails" and then they either make a whole new oc or assume Fiona takes that spot

Miles Erasure

#sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #anti sonic #anti tails #miles prower #miles the fox #fandom wank #i just be ramblin #''Well I didn't know about anti-Tails''#People will do research into their favorite guy but evidently not enough to know anything outside of Fiona's existence and Scourge's #daddy issues #Also listen nothing wrong with Fiona. they were partners in crime and dating for a minute #But it tells me how much research you did if you just saw her and took at face value that she fills Tails' spot for Scourge #it's the oc thing that gets me more though #nothing wrong with giving Scourge little buddies or additional friends but like. It's so clear how much people didn't even know #Miles/anti-tails existed #I'd say 'you'd think if people got obsessed with a guy outside of the media he originated from they'd do bare minimum research about how he #came to be and his relationships' but the same thing that happened to Scourge has been happening to Surge. And the Kit erasure (while not #nearly as bad) is absolutely alive and well #Scourge and Miles also have a lowkey angsty and interesting relationship too #I know no one is gonna read the tags but I'm gonna make this clear anyways #This post is not: ''I hate when people make ocs and aus and have fun with fanon''#This post is: ''I hate that Scourge got popular and you can tell that people don't know about and don't care about Miles with the amount of #people who have aus that don't include Miles or Scourge having any bonds outside of sonic at all #and by the amount of aus where people very seriously go 'omg he needs a little buddy so he's not a lone ranger!' as if there's never been #a Tails in his life before''

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acourtofquestions · 2 months ago

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Overhead, the stars shone clear and bright, and though Mala had only once appeared to him at dawn, on the foothills across this very city, though she might be little more than a strange, mighty being from another world, he offered up a prayer anyway.

Then, he had begged Mala to protect Aelin from Maeve when they entered Doranelle, to give her strength and guidance, and to let her walk out alive. Then, he had begged Mala to let him remain with Aelin, the woman he loved. The goddess had been little more than a sunbeam in the rising dawn, and yet he had felt her smile at him.

Tonight, with only the cold fire of the stars for company, he begged her once more.

A curl of wind sent his prayer drifting to those stars, to the waxing moon silvering the camp, the river, the mountains.

He had killed his way across the world; he had gone to war and back more times than he cared to remember. And despite it all, despite the rage and despair and ice he'd wrapped around his heart, he'd still found Aelin. Every horizon he'd gazed toward, unable and unwilling to rest during those centuries, every mountain and ocean he'd seen and wondered what lay beyond... It had been her. It had been Aelin, the silent call of the mating bond driving him, even when he could not feel it.

They'd walked this dark path together back to the light. He would not let the road end here.

#Chapter 23 #Kingdom of Ash #Sarah J. Maas #Rowan Whitethorn #Rowaelin #Essar #Mala #more starry quotes #lord of the north #I will find you #no spoilers pls 1st read to read along with me pt 4 of 4 perspectives more notes/quotes/reacts in tags; spoilers in both post & tags #They would not all go in all go out. — he won’t leave without Aelin… and probably Cairn dead #Ready to unleash hell when he sent a flare of his magic diverting soldiers to their side while Rowan made his run for Aelin.#She'd protested but even Gavriel had told her that she was mortal. Untrained. And what she'd done today… Rowan didn’t have the words #thank you for Elide appreciation day #He trusted Essar. She'd never liked Maeve had outright said she did not serve her with any willingness or pride.#But these last few hours before dawn when so many things could go wrong...#the full circle of him praying to Mala in HoF and then mentioning it in QoS and EoS and now here in KoA😭#She had to be there. Aelin had to be there.#If they had come so close but wound up being the very thing that had caused Maeve to take Aelin away AGAIN #The bond within him lay dark and slumbering. No indication of her proximity. — Maeve doing that too AGH I HATE HER SO MUCH #Essar had no idea that Aelin was being kept here until Elide informed her. How many others hadn't known? How well had Maeve hidden her?#— maybe that means there’s some good face on their side who might help if they know or learn?#ah rowaelins love language of revenge and compartmentalizing #Overhead the stars shone clear and bright and though Mala had only once appeared to him at dawn on the foothills across this very city #though she might be little more than a strange mighty being from another world he offered up a prayer anyway.#his magic sending a prayer to the northern stars for dawn to stay with the woman he loves — even back then😭#Tonight with only the cold fire of the stars for company he begged her once more.#HE SAYS COLD FIRE BECAUSE ITS NOT HIS FIREHEART😭 and the the darkness back to the light — IT WILL NOT END HERE WE WONT LET IT HE WONT LET IT #and the fact he knew he loved her back then😭 and all those centuries before when he didn’t know why😭😭😭

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cescalr · 1 month ago

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Oooh, definitely glee for the fandom asks! <3

Always with the hornets' nests with these ones, I see! Though i don't think there's a fandom out there that isn't in some way a hornets' nest once it gets large enough... hm. Alright. I'm just gonna be as honest as i can be about this, and tag accordingly.

Glee:

my favourite female character: augh. argh. ouph. so difficult. so hard. Since I'm working off of half-remembered show and half recently-rewatched show... its a tossup. Mercedes, Santana, Quinn. Probably Mercedes. She did nothing wrong ever in her entire life <3 well okay maybe except that one time she smashed kurt's car windows (but it was a banger song, though). Can't say Santana because of the Biphobia TM and other things like excessive use of bigotry-based insults, and Quinn. Oh god girl. Cheating is not cool! Funnily enough! So I find them really interesting but 'favourite' is hard to say. Mercedes. Mercedes for sure <3

my favourite male character: Blaine sam blaine sam blaine sam yes. I am imitating ripping petals off of flowers and coming to a conclusion based on which is the last name i said. So I guess that means Sam! But really this is a tie.

my favourite book/season/etc: Mannnnn idk. I don't like shows for seasons as-a-whole. Also i could not tell you what happened in any given season if you held a gun to my head. I'm not good at that. The only shows i know 'seasons' of are Buffy and Teen Wolf because i've watched them like 100000000000 times (exaggeration) for various reasons (mostly fanfiction research).

my favourite episode (if its a tv show): I can tell you my LEAST favourite episode (blame it on the alcohol, thank you Kurt king of biphobia! this is a persona foible it's not the worst episode in the show. by far. by far. it's kind of an average one. I'm just angry at it.) BUT er. Favourite? Idk. Genuinely some of the earlier Kurt-centric stuff was really well done (his convo with Burt... <3) and the Quinn giving birth accompanied by bohemian rhapsody was obviously iconic, but if I'll be honest I couldn't name any episodes of this show (other than That One previously stated, anyway). And yeah most of the time they were named after song titles and No i don't remember those song titles either. I'm just so bad at this. My memory is that of a goldfish's being haphazardly bounced around on a sieve.

my favourite cast member: it would be really funny if I said Demi Lovato [she counts!] but the truth is N/A: i don't know these people !!! They are strangers!! (i don't. follow celebrities. at all. I couldn't even name most of them. They're just people doing a job and their lives are irrelevant to me beyond their ability to perform that job well. I do not need to know where they live and what coffee they drink. Stalker shit tbh. I'm kind of a very private person myself, so rpf-adjacent stuff just... creeps me out. I've never watched a single cast interview in my lifetime and I'm not about to start!)

my favourite ship: Difficult to say! Grave and obvious lie. Blam. It's blam. Quintana is a close runner up though Santana really needs to stop dating people who cheat on the regular (I'll accept Quinn has grown enough not to do this by the time a Quintana coupling would be viable - and satisfying in terms of character arcs - narratively speaking).

a character I’d die defending: Blaine Anderson did something wrong for sure but like Kurt did it first so shrugs. Cancels out. Bad for each other! Case closed!

a character I just can’t sympathize with: genuinely don't remember if I had one of those the first time around because I was like 10 and just didn't pay attention if I didn't care, but Terri and her racist self take that 'prize' this time, alongside the obvious predator in the room [original choir teacher. Sandy? I forget his name immediately after hearing it. He doesn't deserve to be remembered]. Also JBI is just.... a yikes character all around. I mean, he's a blatant stereotype for one, in a the people who wrote this person don't like jews kind of way. Unfortunately common stereotype too, for the era, so not only is he that, he's also lazy. Just a one-note pervert who's the butt of various antisemitic 'jokes' you've heard from era-peer shows a million times over, tired and awful and a sour reminder of bigotry that continues to this day. Really regrettable character who's lack of redeeming qualities was probably purposeful. (I know Rachel and tina are also jewish, but this comes up very rarely and mostly only when santana needs to say something kind of fucked up, as is her modus operandi, for 'comic relief'. Tina's jewish-ness wasn't even canon for several seasons, because she didn't have a surname or a family or anything resembling complex character depth for several seasons. The one time I really remember Rachel's religion being important was when she was pressuring Kurt into believing in some kind of god, which??? don't do that. Bad example. Trying to guilt trip a friend into faith sucks. I take back what i said earlier Mercedes did that too. Boo. Girls try again that was a bad showing all around. Though i have no idea why Kurt went the acupuncture route as his 'secular' option but i think that has to do a lot with the writers doing literally no research ever once in their lives (you can tell they don't by the way they write the football segments of the show, which make no sense according to football fans who watch Glee, of which there are numerous because real life isn't like fiction where you can only like music or sports. Most of the kids in my school year were doing the most of everything ever if they were the 'popular' ones - we do that differently; popularity isn't really based on who know know; for some bizzare reason literally everyone knew who I was? Even people I'd never spoken to?? - but more about like... how much you can do, I guess. Overachievers, but I'm not saying that negatively; these people were generally - generally - very nice, and surprisingly chill for people who had no spare time whatsoever. I'm not entirely sure when they slept; A* across the board, at least one sport, at least one instrument, several extracurriculars, parties every weekend, dozens of friends and an s.o. . Eh? Way too much going on. Scary lifestyle! Impressive burnout rate, probably. Er. Tangent! Back to the scheduled programming).) There's uhhhh there's a lot of bad characters on the show, but i'd say Sandy and Terri and her equally but more loudly racist sister are truly completely irredeemable ones. Like they're not interesting or anything, they're just there to be narrative annoyances (which, in the case of Sandy specifically, is insane. Arrest that man!!! He has actively sexually assaulted minors!!!).

a character I grew to love: difficult to say because I tend to just make an opinion and stick to it. Also i don't remember who i liked at first and who i didn't, this show came out when i was eight. I didn't watch it until I was a little older than that, of course, but I frankly have spotty memory until my late teens, so! I'm not sure!! Quinn, probably. Pink-hair-era Quinn helped me understand her more, and seeing the moments of kindness hidden behind practical cruelty, when you understand her family and situation, makes things make a lot more sense. It takes a lot to get me to sympathise with a cheater, but I can see where Quinn was getting all turned around in her head about life because of her upbringing and socialisation, not to mention the profoundly negative impact cheerios had on her mentally and that the school's culture in general was not exactly a breeding ground for empathy and optimism.

my anti otp: can you tell (klaine). I don't dislike Kurt!!! Please let him have a fun chillaxed boyfriend in new york with his vogue friends. But also please stop attempting to control other people's diets thank you!! Thank you!! I'm of mixed feelings. Blaine and Kurt both did at least one bad, relationship-ending thing, and proved over and over again that they just weren't on the same wavelength in regards to life goals and ways of living it. They can't even share the same living space, which is kind of required for a functional marriage. I don't know, it just seems like they settled for their first proper, serious boyfriend even if that's not really the best match, and I... wish they'd just got to see more of life first, you know? They got married at like 20! Or something! I'm 23, I cannot imagine getting married at 20. That's a baby. Let them live first!

(same for Santana and Brittney, imo. I also don't really like them together because Santana and Brittney have very different ideas regarding monogamy, which is just never going to go down well in the long run. If your girl cheats on you like twenty times and tells you to your face its not cheating in her view of things, but you think it is, break up with her because you'll just make each other miserable. Brittney sort of seems incapable of feeling guilt but if she were, this kind of moral pressure would be Not Good, and obviously Santana isn't comfortable with the idea and doesn't have to be!! Just move on!!! Find other people!!!! Don't marry your first girlfriend if you've broken up like ten times this is simple!!!! Please!!!! But Klaine wins out over Brittana because - in my opinion, glee fandom please do not persecute me, I am known for this specific thing - I see... interactions that verge on abusive between Klaine that I don't see in Brittana. So. Oof? Ex; use of public perception to disguise attack; deliberately hurting Blaine in a stage-combat fencing match (you are not meant to make actual contact in these) and thus using Blaine's own dislike of making his difficulties common knowledge against him in order to 'punish' him. This is no good! Don't do this!!.[Also just to err vaguepost about a comment.... that is. not. what i would call passive aggressive. Physically attacking someone with a sword - no matter the type of sword, fencing foils hurt just as much, they're just not stab-you sharp... er, these days - is just straight-up aggressive.]).

Note that negative things stick in the mind better than positive ones; on a rewatch I may well alter my opinion!

But also I'm really, really stubborn. So it's not likely. Klaine.

#how the fuck do i tag this #glee #glee shite #ask game #anti-klaine #anti-brittana #anti-kurt #though it isn't because i do like him genuinely one of the better characters. he just... doesn't treat blaine great because they're #fundamentally incompatible romantically. and that's fine! but taking this out on each other isn't.#augh. i hate talking about controversial shit a;lksfja;slkf i used to get So Scared of anon hate mobs you have no idea #if i thought something could get that i simply would never ever not one even dare to think it. let alone say it online in a private forum #(dms with my friends) or god forbid a public post #so. this is growth!#you could say i just got a really weird form of catholic guilt about dissenting from public opinion when i was like 14. you'd also probably #be correct! As I was catholic. And all. Not very devout mind you (did not. go to church.) but still #anyways.#... there's so much i could say about brittany as a character but i'd have to rewatch to make sure i was being accurate about her.#so much that isn't exactly glowing commendation. to be clear.#augh. this show gives me so many very very mean thoughts about it. because it does things so very meanly most of the time #it handles beaste well. Coach Beaste is great. 11/10 character #but so much other stuff it gets just so wrong. just so wrong #(also i never finished the show. actually like genuinely i just missed a whole portion of it. so if they fuck up Beaste at some point I hav #not seen I'll be really really mad.)#(I found out about some of the later events-second hand. i don't 100% know how the brittana marriage goes down but i just... don't like it #as a concept. like at all. they're too young and too unstable for that shit.)#(basically; towards the end i was still watching the show on tv. so i missed whole swathes of episodes thanks to how tv works. do not miss #that headache!)#augh. i should shut up now and go to bed. midnight.)#<3 thanks for the ask! Hope i didn't say anything you disagree with too strongly...

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llegato · 1 year ago

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ok.

#wjatevr. i dont care #no actually i do care. its about morishige how can i not care #i saw a very interesting take on why morishige chases yuka (not the tutorial idea. thats also interesting though)#something about how he was protecting her and he was never going to harm her #and i was like huh. maybe i misunderstood because i played the game when i was 11 #and then i realized i literally played it last week #i cant help but disagree? yeah he wasnt planning on hurting her. it makes the whole chase scene very funny especially if you get caught #he keeps repeating the same thing and me and my sister joke about it all the time lol #but anyways. i think that even in the manga he wouldnt have hurt her even though he hints at his intent being more malicious than in game #i love this scene because i love hearing people talk about why the fuck he did this #let me talk about the manga instead for a moment actually i think this scene is much funner there #he stops for a moment when yuka stops crying before he breaks into this very obviously malicious grin #like he was EXCITED. the darkening had already startrd to show and its very clear while hes chasing her #the whole time he was just messing with her. he wasnt planning to harm her in the manga either #because he literally catches up to her. and he could've caught up to her multiple times had he not been taking pictures as she ran #all he did when he caught up to her was whisper in her ear. so #yeah. he wasnt going to kill her or injure her like in the anime. but does that mean he had any good intentions?#im not sure how this could be described as him simply helping her #and i could be remembering wrong but doesnt he somewhat explain himself in book of shadows?#i remember him saying something about him just having fun and enjoying how scared she was #so ive always just seen it as him enjoying the rush he got from chasing someone weaker than him #because it was partially the darkening right?#im not one to say that morishige is inherently evil or always had a huge interest in gore or anything. becausw its not true #but i dont want to deface his character by warping his intentions to seem less malicious #i need to get a fucking journal this is getting out of hand #finn.txt

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chuluoyi · 4 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

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starsofang · 4 months ago

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Single Dad!Simon who vowed to never trust another woman again after his failed past. He was locked up with the key thrown away, permanently off of the market.

At least that’s what he’d told himself for years. Now, he was beginning to have cold feet.

Simon needed a nanny, one that he could trust completely. He didn’t play about his child, and he’d be damned if he got set up with someone of ill intentions.

But, he was desperate.

Price needed him back periodically, even after his retirement, and he agreed. After all, money was tight when he parented on his own with a growing child.

That was when you came in. Soap had been a pal and recommended an old family friend, somebody he knew Simon could trust with his kid. Simon was skeptical, of course, but Soap had never done him wrong. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Simon wanted to have a trial period to see if you were truly built for the task. He wouldn’t let you off easily. His child was his world, and women weren’t exactly in his deck of cards when it came to trust.

You were as sweet as honey upon the first meeting with a smile that could outdo the sun. Your voice was soft as rain, flowing out of you like a summer song. You spoke to him with the upmost respect, and even more so with his child.

Simon knew he could trust Soap in guaranteeing somebody safe. You were the perfect candidate. He just didn’t know it would lead into him feeling emotions he’d buried a long, long time ago.

Attraction. Interest. A crush, dare he say, like he was a stupid high school kid that just saw the prettiest girl in class and fell head over heels.

He had a silly crush on his child’s nanny when he fully intended to keep it short and professional. That was the way he operated. He was like a working machine, and you had undone his mechanics so easily to the point he struggled to function.

Seeing you with his child only caused his attraction to fester deeper. His child became attached to your hip, smiling more than they had ever done, rambling nonsense to him every time he returned home and you left to go to yours.

It was becoming hard to deny it. You opened an old wound of Simon’s, awakening that deep and dreadful loneliness he felt every passing day. Every smile, every laugh, every Mr. Riley even though you were close in age, all of it had him on the edge of his seat.

He wanted more. He was tired of denying himself happiness. The idea of pushing away every woman was still very vivid in his mind, but denying you just seemed criminal the more time passed.

“I never got to thank you for allowing me in to your home, Mr. Riley,” you told him one day, ever so sweet.

“Thought I told you to call me Simon,” he grunted, avoiding your eyes as the two of you stood in the doorway.

“Right. Simon,” you corrected with a radiant smile. “You have quite the kid, I’ll tell you that. I always look forward to coming over. It makes my day seeing the two of you.”

Simon could feel his heart pattering against his ribcage. His hands were sweaty, and he prayed you didn’t notice him swipe them along his jeans.

“Both of us?” he hummed.

“Of course. You’re just as exciting to see, too, Mr. Ri- Simon.”

Simon’s lips quirked up the slightest bit, but his heart was in his ass. For the first time in a long time, a woman was making him shy and nervous, and it didn’t feel as bad as it did before.

“You’re always free to come over for dinner,” he offered.

“That sounds great, I’d love to have dinner with the two of you!” you exclaimed, beaming.

He didn’t understand how you could be so bright yet so oblivious at the same time.

Simon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. “I meant, the two of us.”

You stared at him like he’d grown two heads, and he nearly slammed the door in your face from the sheer anxiety that spiked in him. He couldn’t read your mind or what you were feeling, and Simon wished he had never said anything to begin with.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said instead. Now it was Simon’s turn to stare at you crazy. “I’d love that.”

Simon realized he was staring too long, so he cleared his throat once again, giving you a brief nod and looking away. “Alright. I’ll text you a day and have Soap pick up the little monster for the night.”

When you agreed and left with the smile that made his heart ache, he didn’t waste a second in texting Soap, telling him he’d be on nanny duty for one night that week.

Soap was quick to agree, but not without a little “You’re welcome ;)” text back.

#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost drabble #ghost simon riley #cod ghost #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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tojicide · 26 days ago

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OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.

📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...

warnings. nsfw, smut, mdni. porn with plot. fem!reader, popstar!reader, bodyguard!sylus. established romantic history (very brief). pet names. semi-public. fingering, oral (fem!receiving), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k

an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.

Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...

You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinions on him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.

(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)

His protective nature only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…

And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.

And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?

Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.

And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.

Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.

Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.

All the while, you were too busy blowing off the steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed huff that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.

“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”

You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.

“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”

“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.

It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)

You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”

Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.

“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.

You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”

“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”

“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”

Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.

He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.

“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.

Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”

You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.

“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”

Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”

“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”

Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”

“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”

Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, slipping your hand from his as you crack it open.

You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.

“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”

“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”

His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”

You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”

Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”

The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.

“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”

(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)

You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”

“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”

Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.

“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.

Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost.

Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“You heard me,” you state.

He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.

The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.

It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”

Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”

You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”

“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.

The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.

But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.

“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”

True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.

The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.

He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.

Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.

It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.

“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.

How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”

A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”

In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.

He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”

And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.

“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”

Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.

“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”

“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.

“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”

You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.

His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”

He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”

Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.

“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.

Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.

“Can you not hear her?”

Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.

“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”

He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.

Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…

Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.

When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.

S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.

“You’re so—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.

Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.

“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.

You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”

“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.

Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.

And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.

As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”

Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”

He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.

“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”

Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?

Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”

“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”

You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…

“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.

“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”

His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.

“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.

Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”

You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.

Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”

You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.

“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”

Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”

A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.

Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.

You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.

Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”

He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”

You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”

“…I figured that much, sweetie.”

note. bodyguard!sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!

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