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k-pepp · 3 months

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With the final season of YR coming up, I’ve been thinking about Wille’s journey again. Because he’s 16, we won’t know if he actually chooses to renounce his title or remain in his role as future king, but I have a feeling this season will give us an indication which way it will go. So, before we get any type of confirmation, I want to get my current thoughts out. I’m aware that a lot of YR Tumblr skews toward King Wilhelm so my pro-renounce post might not resonate with anyone and that’s ok. I just want to put all my thoughts together before S3 comes along with something that totally blows all my opinions and assumptions out of the water 🙂 I understand the idea of wanting Wille to be King because he could be such a great leader. He is kind and compassionate and can be good at taking charge. BUT just because a person could be good at something, doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. My number one reason for being in favor of Renouncing his Title is the sheer fact that Wille doesn’t want to be King. He doesn’t want the title. He doesn’t want that life. Wille has been shown a multitude of times talking about how he struggles with the duties that come with being a prince. Whether it’s with Erik:

Or August:

Or Boris:

(honestly, this boy will spill his guts to anyone who is willing to even half listen to him. My god. I’m so glad they gave this poor kid a therapist) He's also talked about how he feels trapped in this position. For him, to renounce the throne would be freedom. Freedom to live a life he actually wants.

Even the mere idea of staying in his current position makes him physically ill.

Some people take the end of episode 2x06 to mean he’s moved beyond all that and accepted his role as the future king. I didn’t personally see it that way. I saw it as a combination of a few things. 1) When come face-to-face with it, he just couldn’t let August give the speech (But the fact that he was initially willing to let someone who distributed revenge porn against him become king really speaks to how much he definitely doesn’t want that position) 2) He didn’t want Simon to have to compromise his happiness and give in to a situation he didn’t actually want 3) He didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted to be himself. Wille is a person who craves authenticity. Which brings me to a bigger point… Life as the Crown Prince / King is inherently inauthentic. One of the main pro-King arguments is that he would blaze his own trail and do things his way. But how? Being a member of the royal family is a job. The basic responsibilities of that job are to do things like diplomatic visits, hosting events, being part of photo ops, schmoozing with people… pretty much all things having to do with putting on a public persona. It’s great that he could be himself in the sense that he would be the first queer Crown Prince / King, but the baseline duties he would have to fulfill are still inherently inauthentic. And I don’t know how he would “do it his way” aside from just not doing it. He hates putting on fake smiles

the photo ops

the schmoozing with people

Erik even told Wille, the way to get through that stuff is to just pretend to be someone else.

We know he’s capable of doing it. We saw how charming he could be at Parents Day weekend. But that was because he wanted to sit with Simon and impress Simon’s mom. Other than that lunch, he mostly hid in his room. And it goes back to my original point. Just because someone may be good at something doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. (And yes, even if he walked away from the line of succession, he could still have familial obligations, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of what is expected now) At this point, Wille is only continuing as Crown Prince because of a commitment to his family. Mainly Erik.

He doesn’t want to let him down or feel like he’s betraying his legacy. To Wille, Erik was perfect. We only saw two full conversations between them and in both conversations, Erik was telling Wille to get his act together because “it’s not that hard”.

That quote is probably something he told Wille a lot. So much that Wille later regurgitates it to Boris. Three different times.

Going on to say that Erik could handle everything easily.

Based on the fact that Erik was going to Boris, he probably wasn’t managing everything with ease. But in Wille’s perception, he was. Wille is basically chasing a ghost. Self-imposed pressure of unattainable perfection. He bears a guilt that pushes him to want to be someone he thinks Erik would be proud of. The problem with that is, Erik was a monarchist. Maybe he struggled a bit (which is why he went to Boris), but based on the things he would say to Wille, he backed the monarchy / family completely.

Ultimately, I just want Wille to be happy. Maybe S3 will completely change my outlook and I’ll root for him to become king because that’s what he wants. But right now, I think he only wants it out of a sense of obligation to Erik. And honestly…maybe my most controversial opinion…if he did stay in his position because of Erik, he probably wouldn’t change that much within the institution. I mean, he couldn’t change much even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to do big things without the consent of the Swedish parliament and maybe a public referendum. And I doubt he’d even have the capability to make small changes. As already pointed out by @piebingo in this great post, Kristina didn’t actually want August to be next in line. But she was overruled. The Royal Court has a lot of power and making any sort of reforms or independent decisions is not that simple. Especially within an establishment that relies on keeping everything exactly the same. But even if that weren’t true. Even if Wille could snap his fingers and make all these huge changes… part of me doesn’t think he would. I know a lot of the folks who are pro-King Wilhelm want him to become the king just so he can completely destroy it from within. But to me, in Wille’s eyes there would be no bigger betrayal to Erik’s legacy than Wille burning the institution to the ground. And if he wants to live up to Erik’s legacy. Not betray him. Not let him down. He will act as he thinks Erik would act. If Wille becomes king because of Erik, he’ll maintain the establishment because of Erik. And he would be miserable doing it. Miserable and without Simon. Yes, my other controversial opinion. If Wille stayed as king, Wilmon wouldn’t make it. Simon is described to us as a socialist. One of his introductory scenes is him calling the monarchy the country’s biggest welfare scammers. I can’t imagine Simon giving up his musical dreams to join an institution that he hates. I also can’t imagine Wille letting him do that. That was such a big part of Wille’s growth in Season 2. Wille wouldn’t let Simon sacrifice his happiness for the sake of his own happiness (being with Simon). Even if Simon didn’t end up pursuing something in music, he made it clear in his talk with Rosh and Ayub that he wants to work hard to make something of himself.

I mean, look at him. Look at this sweet baby angel’s face when he’s told he has an opportunity that will open doors to his future. I can’t imagine him giving up his ambitions or autonomy to become prince consort. Having to live every day under royal rules and protocols. Maybe he would. I personally can’t see it. And finally, I know a main reason people like the idea of King Wille is because we like the idea of a queer king. But as much as we all want queer representation; I don’t think it should be anybody’s responsibility to be the political representation that people want to see. Wille shouldn’t be in a position he hates because he’s queer. A queer person living their life and getting out of a toxic situation is also good representation. A person can’t fix the problem by becoming part of it. Having him be the face of an institution that’s been about exploitation and oppression isn’t going to solve it. It's always been said by Lisa and Edvin that Wille’s problem is not that he’s queer. It’s that he’s a prince. Everything about what’s making him unhappy is about him being prince / the future king. Him walking away from his title would be about him escaping a future that would make him miserable. Personally, that’s what I’m hoping for.

#I’m sure all of this will be useless when S3 comes out #Since Wille is only 16 it’s pretty useless now 😅#But I’m happy to finally have these S1 and S2 thoughts out of my head #young royals #pro (eventual) abdication

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hwajin · 1 year

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#! — [ meraki ] hwang hyunjin

— gn!reader // sfw, suggestive if you squint // mentions of nakedness // req

It was hot. Unseasonably hot, and your attire wasn’t making it easier on your sweating body – padded hoodie and a baggy jean, making you drip in uncomfortable wetness from places unspeakable. You wanted out of the clothes, you wanted out of them now.

“Leave me to die here y/n, I won’t make it back to the hotel.”

Hyunjin’s voice grunting, sounding like he was gasping for air, desperately – you weren’t better off. You had planned a get away together, deciding that a short vacation was well deserved and needed, and you’ve been excited to lazy around for three days on end, no obligations keeping you from it. Unsure of what had ridden you on the last day – but you and Hyunjin decided to go hiking, reading in trip guides that the path was a popular and undifficult one, done in under an hour and you hadn’t thought long about it, packing a bag with water and a sandwich before heading off – not expecting the sun to burn down your bodies in such heaviness, not expecting the path to be as steep as it was – you’d been fools and now drenched in your own sweat, faces reddened and lungs longing to breathe, legs nearly giving out and mind urging a cold shower, a soft bed.

You giggled at Hyunjin’s dramatics, stopping shortly to wait up on him – he had on a white shirt which was times better than your hoodie, envying him on his decision. He was bent over, arms stemmed against thighs – seeing him like this, one would doubt physical activity was his breadwinning job. Scooching closer and putting a compassionate hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at you, upper lip littered with droplets of sweat, tongue darting out to lick it up – nose scrunching at the saltiness in consequence.

“C’mon, we’re almost there. We have like five minutes left, I can see the hotel already.”

It had taken you longer than five, though eventually you had opened the door to your shared hotel room – which came with a shared bathroom, which came with a shared shower you, rather painfully, nervously, realized. You were a new, a fresh couple – Hyunjin had made the first move only a week back, after few years of sweetest friendship – and if you had been dating any longer the utter realization of having to either fight over or share the refreshing, the cleaning water, long awaited and dreaded, would have come easier. First the discharge of clothes – though not nearly all, each others full nakedness left for the occasional pool day was yet something undiscovered, slightly feared yet anticipated – then an exchanged look, knowing, nervous, giddy. It wasn’t mere a reason to grow conscious over the matter – one would simply have to shower first, the other sit in their sweat for minutes longer – and yet the realization, the tension filled the room. Flew above heads like thick fog. Hyunjin braved up to break the silence first.

“You can go first, if you want to. Just hurry, I’m drenched.”

Sentence came with an amused huff, soft, fingers pinching his wettened shirt to accentuate his state. You laughed in response, debating whether to say the word or to silence it down. Looking at your boyfriend’s state, at his body painting through the shirt that hugged his body with it’s added weight, his dampened hair – you didn’t wish to take that shower by yourself. And you would speak up about it.

“Or, you know…”, a gaze his direction, his eyes finding yours in questioning look, curiosity, a hint of fear, perhaps, laced within, “… we could go and take a shower together.”, and then after a beat of hesitation, of reddening and nearly shying away because Hyunjin’s stare was boring into you, an expression inexplainable behind, “ I’d be fine with it, and none of us had to sit here drenched.”

Glad to have it out, waiting for the consequence. People, previous partners had seen you naked before. You weren’t one to shy away from it, by any means – and yet it felt wholly different with him. It wasn’t the need for bareness, the animalistic urge to see nude skin and jump at it the very next moment – your desire, and you didn’t know how much of that same desire laid within Hyunjin – didn’t stem from a place sexual. It sprouted and bloomed from a feeling deeper, an avidity that went beyond the layer of skin, farther than anything able to describe, to explain – maybe that was very reason your nerves felt on fire; because you needed Hyunjin to reciprocate. You needed him to want your body later, and want your mind now, yet with no confines between you. Skin on skin though no wandering thoughts, you and him existing in utter vulnerability.

“I’m… fine with it, if you’re fine with it.”

Coming closer with every of his word, until he stood before you in all tallness. A soft nod exchanged, and Hyunjin discarded his shirt – letting it fall to the ground with a nearly heavy thump. Your hoodie went next, down to your pants, until the pair of you stood in undergarments which soon followed the increasing pile of clothes – and Hyunjin reciprocated. Only a wandering gaze across the whole of you – you weren’t one to blame, your eyes hushed over his every bit of skin in quick manner – before you locked stares anew. Huffed laughter, nervous in their frequency. Stepping into the shower, big and tiled as though made for two people, two lovers, two souls. Starting the water, cautious, jumping at the sudden coldness, getting used to following warmth.

And you merely washed each other. Rubbing soap against skin, caressing shampoo into hair. Talking all the while, drying each other in comforts of lush towels, not bothering to get dressed when sliding into bed, arm in arm, limbs entangled, shyness leaving bit by bit; replaced with a sense of secureness – with Hyunjin, there was comfort in vulnerability. There was something incredibly humane, about him, about his body, about your bodies together. Something so far from common cravings, for lustful hunger – something beyond the layers of sheer skin, or the mere materialistic.

@etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @etheralsung @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts @bokjaz @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus

#hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff

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mikkeneko · 1 year

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On that other post I made about “you do not have the obligation or the right to control how other people engage with media,” one of the examples I listed was “people are consuming media they’re too old for/people are consuming media they’re too young for.” And one comment I see popping up in the notes of that post is some variation of “I mostly agree with this post, except for the point about kids consuming media they’re too young for. Obviously I’m against that.”

And I feel like this is one of those points that freedom-to-read has conceded too easily, the right of young readers thrown under the bus because OBVIOUSLY we’re against minors being able to access inappropriate things! OBVIOUSLY we don’t want to expose THE KIDS to THE TERRIBLE THINGS. Obviously, we still have to protect people from content they’re too young for!

We don’t.

And I could fill in here a standard argument about how queer resources are always going to be up-rated when it comes to age restrictions because of how they’re viewed as inherently more adult/sexual/inappropriate than their cishet counterparts, and how this blocks queer kids from getting the resources they need, and that would all be true, of course.

But we don’t need to Protect The Kids From The Bad Books in the broader scale either!

There’s a long rambling essay to be had here about my own experiences as a kid reading media that was considered ‘not age appropriate’ for me, and how for the most part it was all stuff I was fine with (Lord of the Rings, Clan of the Cave Bear) and on a few occasions it was stuff I wasn’t fine with (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Candyman) and it upset me and I wished I hadn’t seen it. But what it ultimately comes down to is this:

Kids need to be able to learn where their limits are, and they need to be able to set their own boundaries, as a part of learning to be an adult. And part of the process of learning to do that is to come up against stuff that’s outside their limits, and stepping back from it. And they can’t do that if they’re being artificially restricted from mature content.

A certain amount of upsetting experience is part of this process, and it doesn’t need to be traumatizing if the kid in question has control over their own engagement. Frankly I can’t think of a single more gentle and controllable way to test their limits than in a book, where there are no images, no sounds, and the kid can disengage at absolutely any time simply by closing the book.

They have to learn to draw their own borders sometime. Let them learn at their own pace.

Would it be better if kids had trusted adults in their lives guiding them through mature content, who intimately understand the kid’s sensitivity level and can recommend appropriate materials, and provide a supportive framework for working through material that turns out to be upsetting? Sure. Absolutely every kid in the world deserves an understanding, compassionate and supportive adult. But since we can’t legislate the existence of good parents, the absolute least we can do is allow kids the freedom to control their own choices.

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 1 year

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12am incoherent Spider rant incoming:

The fact that a huge portion of Spider fans sympathise with him because they had similar family experiences in life is low-key making me feel kinda weird about people who hate him. Like let us recap the events real quick-

Like why do you hate a kid who did more to keep the Na’vi safe than Jake through the entire movie? “They’re after us” ok? This is not just about you dumbass it’s a whole-ass war, the RDA will still want to find the rest of your tribe because they want to ERADICATE your people 😐 the fact that it took him MONTHS to realise that running will not save anyone is 😬 (though I can get behind it bc family and all)

How is it that a goddamn 16 year old was the one who carried the good guy team??? 😐😐😐 he saved tribes from getting murdered, like literally, Tonowari said that no one had died, WONDER WHY???? DO Y’ALL THINK QUARITCH WAS NICE OUTTA NOWHERE???

And then he sunk a ship. HE SUNK A SHIP BY HIMSELF????

AND THEN HE INDIRECTLY SAVED KIRIS AND JAKE’S LIFE????

“He backstabbed them” I know you’re not blaming him for it when Neytiri exists 🧍 bestie outright REFUSED to help a literal child and didn’t bat an eye when he got captured. I can get behind her putting a knife to his throat in a rush of emotion but to very clearly ABANDON him? Fuck off. If her active decision to leave him behind didn’t turn into the reef Na’vi’s literal saving grace I’d be hating on her so actively.

“He saved his homocidal dad after he promised to murder his family” first of all the Sullys NEVER adopted him and it’s made abundantly clear. You sound like a gaslighter when you use that rhetoric. 😐📸

And secondly — HELL YEAH HE DID???? I would too if I was him and so would you and so would we all because Miles is the first grown up who GAVE A SHIT. MILES GENUINELY CARED. “It’s morally wrong” NO CAP 😀😀😀 NO ONE SAYS IT WAS RIGHT BUT THE KID HAD A SPLIT SECOND TO MAKE A DECISION AND HE CHOSE NOT TO BE A MURDERER.

You know what else is morally wrong tbw? Neglecting a child for 16 years.

“B-but they had no obligation to take care of a human kid—” cry me a fucking river 😐 what they want or not doesn’t fucking matter when we are talking about the mental health of an actual living breathing being. They ALL (the scientists, the Sullys and even the mf McKoskers or whatever the hell their last name is) were morally obligated to give that kid the best they could to ensure that he wouldn’t turn out like his father BECAUSE THEY’RE ADULTS.

The fact that their collective neglect DIDN’T blow up in their face is a pure miracle. Thant kid had every right to turn evil and burn the village that rejected him to feel it’s warmth but he DID NOT. In fact he is so goddamn kind and compassionate that he sees good even in a piece of shit monster like Quaritch.

It’s mind-blowing when we consider the lack of parental love and guidance throughout his life.

☝️ THIS is the kid you’re hating on???? Bc it’s starting to look suspiciously toxic 👀💅

Pay my boy some respect. He was a literal hero and y’all act like the Omatekaya, ignoring whatever good he might do and then point fingers at him when he does something morally questionable LIKE ITS NOT JAKES FAULT??? LIKE THE REST OF THE ADULTS ARE NOT AT FAULT TOO??

Neglect makes people vulnerable. Vulnerable enough for an asshole to swoop in and manipulate them and it is only thanks to Spider’s unyielding loyalty and heart that neither Ardmore, nor Miles had pulled anything out of him in MONTHS of captivity. They had NO idea where Jake or Omatekaya were until Norm fucked it all up with his trackable ship.

Listen I love all the blorbos, but the parents dug their own grave so to speak. You fumble the bag repeatedly and then get surprised when it flies into your face? 🤨

Anyway, I’m out. Might delete this later idk.

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midntarot · 1 year

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[ pick a pile ]

a message for you

disclaimer: this is a general reading. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. tarot isn’t meant to dictate or predict, but rather to provide insight.

how to choose your pile: intuitively choose the photo that you feel the most drawn to.

･｡ﾟ☆ pile one : *.☽

[ elk, 10 of wands, the hanged one, ace of cups ]

are you feeling burnt out?

the cards commends you for your stability and hard work. this could be something that you’re passionate about or something that keeps you grounded. i’m feeling school, work, or a hobby. you pull through despite any changes or hardships that came your way. there's resilience to you. for all that you do, it's now time that you shift your perspective and allow yourself to rest. giving yourself this time can help you become aware of other aspects in your life. this could be relationships (a lover, friend, or relative). it could be the things that you always wanted to do. what is on your to do lists that you never gotten to? is there a bucket list that you made? this is your time and you have the opportunity to do so. however, keep in mind that the most important thing is you rekindling with yourself. tap into your emotions, do things for you, think about what you had accomplished so far. this is your time.

affirmation: every act of self-care is a powerful declaration. i am on my side – i am on my side

･｡ﾟ☆ pile two : *.☽

[ deer, king of pentacles, 3 of cups, queen of pentacles ]

is there a decision that you have to make?

there is a situation that calls for your absolute attention– this could be the start or leading to something new. i'm seeing a few scenarios to this, so take what resonates. the first being is that the situation might involved a group of people in which conflict could potentially arise. the second scenario is considering who you surround yourself by. do you feel out of place or distant with these people? third, you want to spend more time with others and have fun. regardless of the scenario, the cards are advising you to look back at past experiences and learned lessons before taking action. think about what's best in the long run and then make your decision. during this time, it's important for you not to be hard on yourself and to approach all things in a compassionate way. take this as an opportunity to take care of yourself and find your balance again. this process comes with having patience for the best possible outcome.

affirmation: i have enough – i do enough – i am enough

･｡ﾟ☆ pile three : *.☽

[ bat, the devil, page of wands, 8 of pentacles ]

what's stopping you?

this is your confirmation of an end to a chapter. with that in mind, don't linger to the past, take it for what it is and move on. there are better days coming for you whether you feel it or not. let yourself fall into the unknown and be curious of this change. find the ignition to lit up the fire in you. are you ready for this? begin by unleashing yourself from what holds you down. this could very well be yourself that does this entrapment. what habits do you need to leave behind? what are parts of you that you want to change? are you willing to shift your mindset? if external forces are what's affecting you, leave what no longer serves you. you are not obligated to remain stuck. you've come a long way and this will only continue. overcome this, even if it means trying over and over again. trust the process. it'll pay off for you at the end.

affirmation: it is safe to set clear boundaries

「source and credits: all photos were found on pinterest, therefore we do not own any of them. credits goes to the rightful owner of these photos」

#tarot #tarot online #tarotblr #tarot community #tarot services #tarot reading #readings #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a photo #pac reading #witchblr #divination #divination community #intuition #spirituality #midntarot

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thebunniwagon · 1 year

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Would N x reader and Uzi x reader cuddle hc be ok?

Ok let’s see!

N and Uzi cuddle you (platonic)

N is an amazing hugger, preferring to hold you longer than Uzi. You don’t mind it, happy to oblige him. His hugs envelop your entire body, any normal worker drone would be terrified of being held by a murder drone, but you truly believe he’s changed.

N’s hugs are loose and gentle, preferring your consent to let him hold you, he’d always accompanying his hugs with a quick quip. Much to the dismay of V, who is clearly not jealous.

Uzi is more erratic than her older companion, preferring to hug your arm when no one is around, but not without her threats of violence should you tell N of it. Once she hugged your entire body, crying when she awoke from some unwanted nightmares, you held her tight.

Uzi holds you tightly every time she hugs your arm, letting go when she thinks N is about to see or come in. You always tease her for it, she then lets go while claiming you could bite her, you’d always go to hug her back. She’d fight back for a bit, but would always succumb to your hugs.

N cuddling you (romantic)

N holds you close in scavenging days, one day on your scavenging mission you nearly fell off a cliff, but N grabbed you before you’d had fallen. He was holding you by the hips, while his interface was blushing, he asked if you were alright. You smile, thanking him as you blush slightly.

Ever since you and N became a couple, he rarely lets you go, holding you even in your sleep. His hugs have become tighter, but that doesn’t mean you don’t give Uzi any hugs. When you both scavenge, you’d hold hands and hold each other while sharing a quick smooch, Uzi didn’t appreciate it much. She usually had to pick up the pace thanks to you two, you’d always give her a hug for her troubles.

When he hugs you from behind, you always lean backwards to him, much to the dismay of V. Uzi would tell V she will never have something like you and N, V would spit her usual insults.

One time you managed to hug Uzi and N together at the same time, with N smiling adorably while Uzi tried to escape. You kissed N while Uzi pretended to throw up, N let her go and held your face with his hands. You hold him by his waist, happy to be held by someone so compassionate.

When you both sleep you prefer to keep hugging him while his body goes full flop mode, you’d managed to convince him to lay down with you instead of sleeping on the roof.

As you shut down your systems, you feel N kissing your forehead, as he watches you drift to bed.

“Your so cool Y/n, I’m so lucky to have you”

Uzi cuddling you (romantic)

One time Uzi was holding your arm a little longer than usual, when confronted she’d excuse you of ripping off a scene from the romantic anime show she watches, you remind her that you’re still trying to catch up with the last 2 shows she made you watch. You both share a giggle, Uzi quickly shuts up when N walks by.

You’d pay little mind to it, figuring you’d tell N about it and he’d get giddy, happy to see his little companion showing more love than usual.

When you and Uzi watched her anime shows, she used to sit next to you, keeping space in between you and her. Nowadays she prefers to lay her head in your shoulder, with your arm on her shoulder.

Eventually you both started to laying down while watching the shows, with you leaning on the couch while she lay her head on your lap, she’d make sure to give you vague threats if you dare tell N about this.

After catching up to Uzi’s romance anime, she starts acting strangely around you, being more aloof and defensive. She stopped being close with you, much to your dismay, so you decide to do something.

“Hey Uzi, get over here” you lift your arm. Silently, she slowly shuffles next to you. You lay your arm around her, as she rests her head on your shoulder.

“Sorry if I was direct, I just missed this” her interface glowed, small blushes appearing on her face.

“Don’t think about it too much” Uzi says in a rather condescending tone, crossing her arms and doing a pouty face.

“I won’t” you smile at her, she looks back at the screen.

You both sat there silently, as you hold her close to you. The anime starts to show a romantic scene, where one of the main characters starts to confess to the others in the heat of battle. While you are paying attention, Uzi is barely showing any interest, instead she starts to fidget in place.

You ask her if she wants to lay down, she nods, you both shift on her bed to find a comfortable spot.

As you hold Uzi in your arms, she slowly starts to drift off. You decide to stay in the room with her instead of going to your own, Uzi’s starting to shut down her systems. You turn off her tv, before shutting off your own systems. As you start to drift off, Uzi speaks.

“I love you Y/n”

I hope I did well!

#n #request #murder drones #thank you so much for requesting this!#uzi #x reader #murder drone

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audreysmusings · 2 years

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you, entirely | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x female!reader

part I

summary: obi-wan kenobi’s relationship with the reader over the years. reader is a senator & the pair navigate their complicated relationship over the events of episode I & II.

setting: breaks in between the movies, please don’t think too hard on it because the timeline is a bit fuzzy to me in general :)

word count: 5.7k (HOLY SMOKES)

warning(s): canon typical violence, me not fully understanding the prequels & politics please forgive me, probs some inconsistencies with star wars canon, kissing

author’s note: hey everyone! i promise i’m still working on “your friend, ben” i just have had this story stuck on my mind for a while. i plan on expanding this into a second part because we don’t really see what the intro alludes to with it’s angsty description (it will come, i promise!). i’m nervous about how this will be received only because i’m not as well versed with the ins & outs of the prequels. that being said, i still hope you can find something to enjoy within this.

thank you!

What are we? You had asked him. Doomed, forbidden, foolish. Those were the words that came to mind. Good, heavenly, wonderful echoed in his mind, louder. Obi-Wan could not understand how something so right could be the very antithesis of his being.

He had been warned of this very thing. He had been told to guard his heart. He had been told not to stray from his purpose. He did not listen. He couldn’t help it, really. He was convinced that it was fate, something even Master Yoda could not deny.

Something so strong that no amount of training could stop him from loving you. It was blunt and forceful, ironic considering his devotion to the force is what kept him from you.

It had started off innocently enough, merely as a pursuit of companionship with you. When you had first met Obi-Wan it was before the true weight of the war was known, before the death of democracy and freedom. Both of you were far younger and more hopeful. With blazing eyes and determined hearts, you each shared a passion for helping others.

That was probably the first thing Obi-Wan noticed about you, your selfless and compassionate nature. You’d admired his strong sense of duty and morality. It was a shame you’d grow to become a threat to those traits.

Your first encounter was simple enough, Obi-Wan was assigned to oversee your appointment as a senator and your induction into the Republic. The ceremonies had gone well, no need for Jedi interference after all, and there was a party being hosted in your honor.

After Obi-Wan essentially lived as your shadow over the three week long process, you’d grown to enjoy his company and, though you’d never admit it aloud, crave it. Obi-Wan always told you the truth, something you valued considering the lack of it in politics. He was a righteous man with a good heart, you didn’t take his character for granted.

You’d insisted on him making an appearance at the party and with enough convincing on your part, he obliged.

You kept me safe this entire time, the least I can do is let you to partake in the festivities! Sort of a means to an end, you had told him.

Obi-Wan had argued that since there was no danger there was really no reason for him to celebrate.

You then commanded him that your first act as a senator would be demanding Jedi involvement at the party, specifically, a dance.

So obliged maybe wasn’t the right terminology, forced was more fitting.

Nevertheless and ever the dutiful Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi made his appearance. What harm could acting as your shadow for one more night do?

Though he loathed politicians, he found himself enjoying the evening. Even if he was just watching as a figure in the background, he could see the joy radiating off of you in your smile and how thrilled you were for your future. It was something you’d worked hard for, after all.

You had been busy chatting with your guests and attending to the caterers, making sure to thank them before you recognized Obi-Wan. You approached him with a grin and refrained from pulling him into a hug, instead extending your arm for a handshake.

His hand grasped your own and he shook it gently, a small smile forming on his face.

“How do you feel?” You asked excitedly.

“Glad that you stayed safe.” He answered sincerely.

“Thanks to you.” You pointed out. “I’m grateful, truly.”

“Well, on behalf of the council, I’d like to congratulate you on the beginning of an exciting career.”

Your nose wrinkled at his formality, “Hearing you refer to politics as exciting has got to be a bigger surprise than you actually showing up here.”

He chuckled lightly at that, “I suppose so.” He then continued with a hint of a smirk, “But if I remember correctly, this was an order from you, Senator.”

The emphasis on the way he said senator made your stomach flutter, but you shoved the sensation down. You rolled your eyes at his retort and broke eye contact, glancing around as live music started to play and couples began to pair up.

Before you could say something fill the silence, Obi-Wan spoke up.

“I would have come either way.” He announced. “I must admit while this is not my scene, I’ve enjoyed your company.”

You turned back to him with a shocked expression, his admission leaving you silent.

“For a politician, you don’t seem to have a lot to say.” He quipped.

You blinked at him, dumbfounded, and cleared your throat before speaking, “As a politician, I’m not used to blatant honesty. You’ve simply surprised me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He frowned slightly, “Is that good or bad?”

You eyed him with an amused expression, “For an all powerful Jedi, you seem to have a lot of questions.”

He laughed and you joined in, embracing the warmth that came from the interaction.

“You really are a politician.” He said, laughter still evident on his expression.

“And you really are as noble as they say.”

Obi-Wan smiles and his eyes only seem to amplify the tenderness behind it.

“I have something for you.”

He quirks his brow up at your statement, “Oh?”

You fumble in your pocket before pulling out a silver pendant attached to a brown leather band. It’s engraved with the Jedi emblem and a branch of leaves weaving through it. You hand it to him and he gently places it in his palm, tracing the indentions in the silver stone.

“The branch represents friendship and good-intent, it’s a message for anyone who encounters my planet, one of hope.” You explain, watching as he inspects the piece.

“I hope it’s not too much or anything, I just wanted you to have something as a token of my thanks.”

He looks up with an unreadable expression and pockets the trinket, “It’s perfect, really. Thank you.”

You nod, “I wanted to give it to you before you left, you know, as something to remember me by.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to forget you.” He admits.

“Now you’re really mocking me, Obi-Wan.” You say lightheartedly, refusing to even acknowledge the vulnerability from his last statement.

Obi-Wan’s mouth opens to reply, but a man comes to your side and offers you his hand.

“I’d love a dance, Senator.”

You smile gracefully and accept the man’s offer, bowing to Obi-Wan before mouthing a silent goodbye.

He watches as you dance with the man and twiddles with the pendant in his pocket. The words ‘it represents friendship’ echo in his mind. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t touched by your actions. Obi-Wan had grown fond of you over the past few weeks, something he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with.

As the party died down and guests started to leave, the young Jedi still remained. He was leaning against a column in the foyer before you finally noticed his presence after waving goodbye to a guest.

Your furrowed your brows when you saw him, “You’re still here?”

He nodded, “My job isn’t done yet.”

“I haven’t requested anything else.” You replied, confusion evident in your voice.

“I believe I owe you a dance.”

That surprised you.

Two for the Jedi, none for the senator.

“I was only teasing when I requested that.” You explained.

“I know.”

Obi-Wan extended his hand towards you. You cocked your head at him with as if asking really?

He offered you a reassuring smile and nod in return, beckoning you towards him. A childlike grin, despite your best efforts, found itself upon your face. You approached him slowly and bowed before placing your hand in his. His other arm went around your waist and you placed your free hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. The music playing was somewhat slow and let the two of you fall into a nice pattern of swaying.

You felt the warmth radiating off of his body and decided to lean into his touch, craning your neck to speak lowly in his ear, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I don’t mind.” He answered simply.

You pursed your lips and continued to sway with the music, “I didn’t realize dancing was part of a Jedi’s duty.”

He shrugged and dipped you slowly, flashing you the most infuriatingly handsome grin, “It’s not. I just happen to be good at it.”

Your head rolled back as you laughed at his cockiness, something you didn’t expect from him. He joined you in laughter and as you faced him once more it became clear how close your bodies really were.

“Besides, it’s the least I could do.” He offered.

“For what?” You asked him.

The music swelled and he then spun you out before pulling you back into him gently.

Ever so close.

“As a thank you. For your company.”

His cool breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“It was my pleasure.” You respond, never breaking eye contact.

You continue to dance together, both of you pretending not to notice how close you’ve gotten and how the air around you has shifted. The music has slowed significantly and you continue to look at one another while swaying, your eyes reflecting what could only be described as tenderness.

His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and if there ever was a time where a kiss was expected, it was now. Obi-Wan slowly leaned closer into you, leaving your noses brushing against one another, your lips one slight move away from touching. A silent question hung in the air, a question asked by him, with an answer expected from you.

But you knew it wouldn’t do any good. He should’ve known that, but he didn’t seem to care. You were frozen, not giving into the moment, but not wanting to give it up either. It was a weird feeling, to want something so bad and withhold from it, only to keep the tension of it alive.

Just as the weight of everything started to crush in on you and you considered the possibility of leaning in, the song ended and couples around you broke contact, bowing to one another. You both stayed locked in your embrace. It felt as if the air around you had stilled and no one else was around.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before breaking the contact and smoothing your gown. When you look back at the man in front of you his expression is unreadable, yet again.

You nod at him, hoping it says everything you’re feeling, but knowing that’s not possible.

He smiles, understanding an implied thank you from you this time, “It was my honor.”

You start to walk away, but he reaches out and squeezes your hand gently.

“I look forward to hearing about everything you do, Senator.”

You turn around and smile warmly, “And I, you.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he’d see you again, but he kept the pendant from you, he didn’t delve too far into why. He kept it fastened to a loop on his belt, a reminder of your friendship.

It was a year or so before he saw you again. You both had changed a lot since then. You were well into your career, a successful one at that, and he had been busy with his padawan, Anakin Skywalker.

You were relocating permanently to Coruscant to be closer to the senate and more involved in your work. What you hadn’t expected was to run into Obi-Wan Kenobi right as you arrived at the capital.

“Senator!” A familiar voice called out.

You recognized the smooth voice instantly as he called out your name this time, no title necessary. When you turned around, you were face to face with the Jedi master and his padawan. He looked good, you noted. His hair had grown out and his features were somehow even more handsome than before.

“Master Kenobi, it’s a pleasure.” You greeted warmly, a genuine smile gracing your face.

His eyes twinkled and he returned the smile with his own brilliant kind.

The kind that would make you swoon.

The kind you needed to stay away from.

“The pleasure is all mine, I’ll have you know I’ve been keeping up with your career since just a year ago.” He admitted, almost bashfully. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You chuckled lightly, “I’m honored that a humble senator like me would even cross the mind of a grand Jedi master, you must have an abundance of free time.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze shifted to the young man before him and he shook his head, “Not with this one around, I’m afraid.”

You directed your attention to the padawan and smiled kindly, “You must be Anakin.”

He nodded and extended his hand to yours, “I take it Obi-Wan has mentioned me before?”

You take his hand in yours and shake it firmly, “No, I only assumed.”

Anakin seems somewhat dejected. Obi-Wan arches his brow at your comment and you smile knowingly.

“You’re not the only one who’s kept tabs over the past year.”

“I’m flattered, Senator.”

Anakin’s eyes shifted between the two of you, you chose to ignore it.

So did Obi-Wan.

“Well, Obi-Wan, it’s my first time in Coruscant not confined to the Senate building and I can tell I’ve been missing out tremendously.”

He nods.

“What might a humble senator like me do on her off hours in such a place?” You inquired.

Obi-Wan considered your statement, taking it as more of a proposition than anything.

“Allow a friend to escort her wherever she pleases.” He answered finally.

You grinned at the Jedi and felt a warmth envelope your chest.

Maybe this move wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After he had dismissed his padawan, Obi-Wan dedicated the rest of his day to allowing you to explore the city and showing you all of his favorite spots.

He brought you to Dex’s for a meal, showed you an art exhibit that was his personal favorite, and even brought you to the temple gardens. You made note of a shop he pointed out mentioning it was where he bought good teas from.

You noticed through your trip that Obi-Wan was far more open now, something you think was good for him. He teased and even flirted, another thing you certainly weren’t going to complain about.

It felt as if you’d only seen each other the day before and no time had passed at all. The sound of his laughter was something you didn’t even know you had missed. His time in your life just a year ago, while significant, was only a three week period. It was strange how much a shared past could bond two people.

When you stopped for caf in the city, Obi-Wan was messing with his belt under his robe, “I want to show you something.”

“You’re making it very easy for me to take this in the wrong context.” You teased, eyeing the way he was fumbling with his belt.

He huffed lightly in amusement, “I assure you Senator, I would never.”

He continued to struggle before he grinned and extended his palm towards you, proudly displaying a stone pendant attached to a leather band.

You gasped lightly, “You still have that, after all this time?”

He nodded, “Of course I do. It’s a token of friendship, you don’t throw that away.”

You chuckled at his seriousness, “You’re right.”

“I’ve kept it fastened on my belt, I wasn’t sure why, but I just felt the need to keep it.”

“Politician’s guilt.” You joked, taking the pendant in your hand, examining it.

Obi-Wan smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’m impressed it’s not blown to pieces by now with all the action you see.” You mused.

“Actually I’m impressed you didn’t throw it away after I’d given it to you.” You said casually, running the smooth stone against your fingers.

He furrowed his brows in confusion, “Now why would I do that?”

“I didn’t think you liked me. You were so serious, so stoic.” You teased.

He frowned, “I’m not stoic.”

Maker, even his frown was handsome.

You grinned at him, “There, that’s what I mean!”

His frown deepened, “What?”

You tried to hold in a laugh, but your amused expression betrayed you.

“What is so funny?” He insisted.

His frustration only made his sharp features more handsome, but you’d never tell him that.

“Your expression, it’s the very face of stoicism itself.” You finally explained.

Obi-Wan scoffed and rolled his eyes, “That’s just my face!”

You shook your head and laughed lightly, “Besides, it was clear you didn’t like politicians, I never considered myself exempt from that.”

“You’re crazy! I was in awe of you Senator, your passion was remarkable and if anything, I was intimidated by your presence.”

You shrugged, “I don’t remember it like that.”

“If I remember correctly, I came to your after party and danced with you.” He argued. “I don’t see how you could misread my feelings towards you.”

“A party I requested your presence at, and a dance I demanded from you.” You countered.

“I told you I would’ve come either way.”

You pursed your lips, “Then I guess we were both equally as clueless.”

He sighed, “I suppose I’ll work on my stoicism, but you need to work on reading me if we’re to continue this friendship.”

You grinned and placed the pendant back in his hand, “Deal.”

Obi-Wan had ended the night by escorting you to your new apartment and with a gentle kiss to your the top of your hand. You were shocked by his informality, but in no way was it something you’d dare to bring up to the Jedi. He did not address the intimacy from the moment so you went along with it.

That was the start of his fall from grace.

Since that day, the two of you stayed close companions. He’d be seen escorting you to and from senate meetings, making sure you arrive safely. You could be found seeking out his company whenever you got the chance. Whether it was exploring the capital together or simply meeting for tea in the afternoon, you always made time for each other.

At the beginning, Obi-Wan was frequently questioned on his apparent attachment to you. He’d always write it off as looking out for you, pointing out that he witnessed the start of your career and had maintained a healthy friendship with you since. It seemed to satisfy those who inquired.

The questioning did not stop on his end however, you were also constantly asked of the nature of your relationship. You insisted it nothing more than a sense of safety and protection, something engrained in your being since the start of your career. You teased that it was his way of keeping himself from being lonely.

The two of you became a well known pairing across the capital, something the council did not approve of, but couldn’t really do anything about. Obi-Wan had assured them time and time again there were no attachments outside of the kind you have for an old friend or colleague.

You just happened to be both.

Besides, they had no reason not to trust him. You didn’t harm his image in any way, in fact, you seemed to have enhanced it. For a Jedi who hates politicians to be seen so close with a Senator spread the message of unity within the capital. Something no one would deny.

It wasn’t until a rather compromising conversation that made you worry of the Jedi’s affections for you.

“I think I’m going to get married.” You had told him.

Your announcement had shocked him, you weren’t courting anyone or known to have any close relationships besides him.

Instead of showing his surprise he simply sipped his tea and set the cup down, “When’s this happening?”

You sighed, “Well, my team seems to think it will help my image. An alliance with someone powerful is what they want.”

He hums slightly, “What do you want?”

“To not have to be married to be taken seriously.” You answered honestly.

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding.

“But, the more I think about it, the more it seems to be a reality I need to face.”

His brows furrowed, “You’re powerful enough without an alliance or marriage.”

You placed your head in your hands, “I know, I know. It’s an insult really, but one they continue to throw in my face until I eventually give in.”

Obi-Wan moved closer to you and bumped his shoulder against yours gently, “They should know better than to expect that from someone as stubborn as you.”

You chuckled and returned the gesture, leaning into him slightly, “You’re right.”

“Besides, what happens when you find someone you love and want to marry?” He asked.

“I don’t think I will ever marry.” You confessed. “Not for love anyways.”

Obi-Wan frowned, “What else is there to marry for?”

“Wealth, power, influence.” You listed out plainly.

“You’re sounding like a real politician now.” He said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I know. It’s a shame.” You sigh dramatically.

He laughs at your antics before taking another sip from his cup.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about this, Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t get married.” He offers. “Tell them you won’t do it unless it was for love, that way you never have to. Then it’s an honorable lie.”

You consider his solution, nodding thoughtfully.

“That would work.”

“Don’t let it get out though, otherwise you’ll have loads of people hoping to woo you.” Obi-Wan warns, half teasing, half serious.

You chuckle lightly, “I doubt anyone would care. If anything I will have sealed my fate as the spinster senator.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Obi-Wan says. “I think you’re far more alluring than you realize.”

His comment makes you pause. It was frustrating how much of an effect his words had on you. Obi-Wan was always able to make something monumental sound like the most simple and true statement in the world.

“I think you’re far too fond of me to see reality.” You say finally.

You were right. He was far too fond of you.

Instead of arguing further, Obi-Wan basked in the silence you shared. Not an awkward kind, it was natural, comfortable even. Something he’d grown used to over the past few years.

Still, he could sense you wanted to ask something. It was radiating off of your body every second you spent in silence.

“You want to say something. I can feel it.”

You shift slightly towards him, resting your hands on your knees, “I’m not sure if I should. I wouldn’t want to offend you.”

His nose wrinkles, “I know you well enough to know you’d never miss an opportunity to offend me.”

“It’s a serious question.” You explain.

He hums, “Ah, I promise to answer it seriously then.”

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully, “I’ve just never heard of a Jedi having opinions on love.”

Your question doesn’t bother him. He nods in understanding.

“We don’t.” He answers. “But my master was more liberal in his approach to such matters. When I was younger, it was something I thought about often. How could we call ourselves protectors without love or attachments? I think love, whether it’s platonic, romantic, or familial, it strengthens us.”

He continues, his voice growing soft, “While my duties prevent me of experiencing it, I think of marriage as sacred and a celebration of love. Not something for politics to exploit.”

The words rolled right off his tongue so naturally, it was hard not to be somewhat affected by his confession, but you knew better than to go down that path. You weren’t sure what to say without compromising your heart even further, so you opted for telling the truth, a bitter one that stung.

“I think that’s beautiful, Obi-Wan.”

“I do too.” He affirmed.

You stay silent, your face pinched in contemplation.

“What?”

“If it were up to you, would you do it?” You almost whispered, fearing your words would shatter the tranquility around you, scare him away.

He doesn’t respond, he only looks at you earnestly before taking in a deep breath and nodding.

You don’t say anything.

“Knowing myself, I probably would’ve tried to marry you by now.” He confesses.

Your body stills next to him. With those words, it was Obi-Wan who had effectively shattered the air around you, leaving both of you helpless and surrounded by the aftermath of his sharp tongue.

He reaches out to take your hand, but you avoid his embrace with a swift recoil of your hand. It burned hot where his fingers had lightly grazed yours.

Your name falls off his lips, soft and light, but you interject.

“I think it’s best if you leave.”

Obi-Wan didn’t argue. In fact, he agreed with you. He wasn’t sure what came over him to be so honest, so blatant, and so not the Jedi he should be. Instead, he was a fool going down the very path he was instructed, begged, not to.

After he left, you spent hours revisiting various tender moments you’d shared, analyzing them and going down a tunnel you knew you shouldn’t. That one comment had managed to offset years of pushing away feelings and burying them deep. It made you reconsider your stance with the Jedi.

But before any headway could be made, Obi-Wan had come back to your quarters that night with an apology for his behavior. You accepted and only wished you two would not address the interaction again. He agreed.

It was a month before you saw him after that and the circumstances were far from glamourous. He’d been injured critically on a mission and it was entirely your fault. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple humanitarian trip you were taking to an outer rim planet. Obi-Wan was there as your guard, per your request, but you had assured him it wasn’t anything more than a peaceful visit. You were wrong.

It was a blur mostly, how everything went down. One minute you were in a crowd handing out rations and supplies with your crew and the next thing you knew there was a loud rumble and screams. You had reacted quickly, warning the people around you and helping them to what you hoped were safe buildings. The ground was shaking from explosions and smoke and dust quickly filled the air.

You kept assisting people around you and directing them to find shelter. The explosions were getting stronger and felt closer, adding more chaos into the mix. You kept searching for others in need of help, coughing as you made your way through the area.

Another explosion went off to your left and you stumbled a bit, but kept your balance. Rubble and debris was falling all around you and it became clear that this was no accident.

You relented on and were helping people who had fallen when you felt a firm grip on your arm, immediately recognizing Obi-Wan’s familiar hold on you.

“Obi-Wan!” You exclaimed in relief. “We need to get these people out of here! It’s not safe.”

His gaze was full of worry and he kept his hold on you, yelling above the chaos, “Senator, I need to see you safely aboard your cruiser!”

You tried to pull away, but his grip did not budge, “Not until we ensure their safety!”

“The only person’s safety I am concerned of is yours!” He insisted.

You shook your head vehemently, “My presence is the reason for this, it must be, and I will not let these people suffer because of me!”

The ground shook once more as another detonator went off, his grip on you loosened as you both stumbled.

“Please, come with me back to the ship!” He pleaded.

“We can’t leave like this!” You argued.

You managed to pull away from his grasp and started to run towards the smoke when Obi-Wan yelled out your name. You turned around to look at the man and beckon him to join you when horror etched itself upon your face.

Above the Jedi was a crumbling column and the debris was beginning to fall. You couldn’t do anything except watch and make your way towards him as fast as possible, crying out his name. That was the last thing Obi-Wan saw.

When he woke up, the first thing he felt was warmth. He could feel your presence, your very being. It engulfed him. You were worried and concerned. He felt a firm weight in his hand, it was yours.

You had been at his side since your crew brought his unconscious body on board. You felt horrible about being the reason he was pinned under the rubble, even more so being the reason for the attack in the first place. The Separatists had somehow got word of your humanitarian mission and had sabotaged it with a bombing.

You immediately arranged for aide to be sent to the planet. The only thing that kept you from staying was making sure Obi-Wan was alright. Things had been shaky since the marriage conversation and this seemed like a time to rekindle.

As he stirred awake your face lit up and you exhaled in relief.

“Obi-Wan.”

His name was like a lifeline when it left your lips, heavy and full of feeling.

He opened his eyes and turned his head towards you, squeezing your hand lightly.

“You’ve been out for a couple hours.” You explained. “You sustained some damage, but a lot of the larger debris managed to miss you.”

“Lucky me.”

You nodded, “A few days spent in bed and you’ll be fine.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, not sounding too thrilled at the prospect of being bedridden.

You took your free hand to fix his hair, carding your fingers through his soft auburn locks.

“Obi-Wan, I want to apologize.”

He shook his head lightly, closing his eyes, “It was not your fault.”

“It was. You would not have been near that column if I had just listened to you. You would not have been on this trip if I had not requested you. Your being here, hurt, is because of me.”

“I agreed to go on this trip, I chose to accompany you, it is no one’s fault.”

You shook your head, “You’re too kind to say it’s my fault, but it is.”

“You cannot go down that path. I’ve been there, it won’t lead to any good.” He insisted.

“I’m still at fault, no matter what you say.” You argued.

He huffed out a small breath, “Are you going to argue with me while I’m injured?”

You sighed and continued to stroke his hair, relishing in the way reacted to your touch, “Still, I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes closed, “I’m not.”

You didn’t respond.

“You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“Not to me.” You whispered. “I need you around, Obi-Wan.”

He opened his eyes to be met with your glassy pair.

“There isn’t a time in my career where I haven’t had you at my disposal, General.” You continued with a shaky voice, “I must admit that I have grown to care for you over the years, a little too much, I think. I just want you to be safe.”

‘A little too much,’ echoed in his mind, Obi-Wan smiled lightly.

“I am safe.”

You sighed again, but didn’t say anything.

“You forget yourself, Senator. My duty was to you, to keep you safe. I did my job and I have no shame for it.”

Your hand moved from his hair to cradle the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He let out a contented hum at the movement.

“I wish there was a world where we could exist without all of this, then. Where we could just have each other.” You said quietly.

His cerulean eyes gazed back into yours earnestly, “As do I.”

You smiled at him sadly and leaned down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Get some rest, General.”

You volunteered to take care of Obi-Wan when he returned to the capital and he did not refuse you. Part of it was guilt over his injury, but another part of it that you’d never admit to was simply wanting to take care of him. Obi-Wan never let people help him, he always went about things on his own and you knew it wasn’t good for him.

But he let you take care of him and that alone spoke volumes. You’d spent most of your time making his teas, reading together, and even cooking together. He insisted on helping with the food, he didn’t like to be still for so long.

Every night, you’d go to the balcony of his apartment and watch the sun set. It was something simple and serene, something that required no negotiations or arguing, something you could simply be in.

It was a solace to you both. Normally you sat in silence, but on the second night of his recovery, Obi-Wan broke it.

“If it weren’t for your company I would have returned to my duties by now.”

“You’re all better, then?” You inquire, staring off at the sun set.

“I think so. I’m restless.” He replies.

“You can still be restless and injured.” You counter.

Obi-Wan stays silent.

“What would you do on a day off, General? Perhaps there’s something light we can do tomorrow to abide your restlessness.” You suggest.

“I’d find you.” He answers.

You turn your face towards his and feel warmth spread across your cheeks at his words. His eyes are on you, inviting and tender.

“You’ve found me.” You manage to say, softer than you’d like, suddenly feeling like the air around you is thick.

“It appears so.” He muses.

You turn away, but can still feel his eyes on you. It makes your blood burn.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Would you like me to stop, Senator?” He asks, accenting your title teasingly.

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide a smile and clear your throat.

“No, I only think you’ll regret missing this brilliant view.” You say carefully.

“I don’t think I will.”

You let out a shaky exhale and put on a brave face, “Obi-Wan, I need you to listen for a second.”

“Okay.” He says pliantly.

You sigh and bask in the silence before speaking, before breaking the dynamic you’d grown to love, “I understand your want, Obi-Wan, and please don’t think I’ve not felt it, this care we have for each other. I have yearned over the years and pined and wanted. Truly wanted.”

You break his gaze, looking to the sun set once more, “My comfort has for these feelings has been knowing it, we, cannot be.”

He furrows his brows in confusion and approaches you, resting his hand on your arm gently, “I don’t understand.”

You look back up at him through your lashes, your gaze wistful, “But now you’re here, looking at me with the most lovely eyes I have ever seen, wanting, and I cannot go on denying it anymore.”

He strokes your shoulder with his thumb.

You lean into his touch and bring both of your arms to rest on his waist, “I want you, entirely.”

The weight of the confession leaving your lips is freeing, yet all the while terrifying to think of. It’s always been Obi-Wan laying himself out for you and this time, it’s you. No quick wit, no sharp defense, no excuses, just pure vulnerability.

A part of you fears this was a game to him, to see how long you’d hold out for. You lost the game if that were the case, but deep down you know he’d never do that to you. Another part of you fears this will be the end of both of you, a burning love that only leaves despair in it’s wake. If that’s the case, you hope the burn lasts long.

Not giving you anymore time to think, Obi-Wan wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You exhale in relief and hold onto him tightly.

“I’m all yours.” He whispers, featherlight, into the crook of your neck.

You stay still for a moment before he pulls back to look at you, cupping your face in his hand, “May I kiss you, Senator?”

You swallow thickly before flicking your gaze over his lips and then back to his eyes, “You know, if we cross this line, we can never go back.”

He nods, “I’m aware of what’s at stake.”

You arch a brow, “And you’re still willing?”

“Without question.”

Those words were all you needed to hear. You inched your face closer to his and let your nose brush against his, as if making a move in a game, signaling for his turn. Taking his cue, Obi-Wan closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips to yours with a tenderness you didn’t know was possible.

It was sweet, slow, and loving. You let yourself live in the moment, memorizing the way his lips slotted against yours like they were made just for you, the way his beard lightly brushed against your skin, and his calloused hand against your cheek.

He smiled against your mouth and let his forehead rest against yours, “You’re wonderful.”

That night you refused to think of the reality of your situation, and instead you enjoyed Obi-Wan and all of his loveliness.

#obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi fluff #obi wan kenobi angst #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi fanfic #obi wan fic #obi wan x reader #obi wan needs a hug #my writing

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Text

Boundaries: Jimmy Lanik x Reader

Tagging: @annieradcliff @cosmic-psychickitty

It’s late when your phone rings, or early. Jimmy doesn’t know because the bedroom is still shrouded in darkness, and he’s disorientated. He rolls onto his side, and flicks the lamp on, squinting against the brightness of the light. He hears you groan as he turns back over and sees you groping for your phone on the charging station.

A call like this, in the early hours of the morning is usually something to do with one of the vulnerable adults you had under your supervision. As a social worker you specialised in helping the elderly, Jimmy had asked you about it when the two of you had first started getting serious. He hadn’t expected the answer he got, your mother in an assisted to care facility during your early twenties, she’d passed away due to negligence on part of the care home. You were newly qualified, and it was too late by the time you saw the signs. You had sued the private care facility for every penny that it was worth. It had started a string of investigations into care homes run by the same company, each and every one of them had similar deficits. He understands why you fight for the people that others have forgotten, why you spend the time, show them care. He loves how fierce you are, how compassionate.

The thing is he knows you aren’t on call. You covered for one of your colleagues whilst she was away for a fortnight and this week, she’s returning the favour. It had been a turbulent fourteen days, covering two people’s caseloads and he knows your exhausted. He hates seeing those dark shadows underneath your eyes, he’s come home more than once this week to see you rubbing your temples at the kitchen table, trying to sooth away a tension headache.

Jimmy tries to help by running you a bath, making dinner while you have your head buried in your paperwork. It’s the little things he knows that make a difference, a brush of his thumb across the nape of your neck, massaging that tender spot, the press of his lips to the back of your head. He can feel you relax against him in those moments, and he cherishes them because you mean the world to him, and it’s a chance for him to show you how much he loves you.

He sees your hesitation when you look at the caller I.D. It’s a red flag because Jimmy knows you never hesitate. His hand comes to rest upon your bare shoulder, thumb smoothing over the strap of your vest top. He knows these calls aren’t easy, but he can see something’s put you on edge.

“Natalie…” You say as you answer the call.

Jimmy stiffens because he’s spoken to Natalie about this, about calling you like you’re her personal hotline to DCFS. He sees the pressure it put upon your shoulders, coming to you out of hours asking for your advice, trying to get your opinion on cases that weren’t yours. She's used your words as leverage to get the outcome she desired.

He knows you feel obligated. She's his colleague, but it pisses him off that you are being taken advantage of. Natalie had a way of doing that, of manipulating people into doing what she wants, using the moral high ground as her argument. Jimmy has seen her tie Will Halstead up in enough knots over the past couple of years, to know she was masterful. It's subtle until it wasn’t, he didn’t think he would have recognised it if he hadn’t endured something similar in the past.

“Natalie, I’m not on call tonight. I told you that last week…”

That infuriates him even more because already you give so much of yourself away. The time you get to yourself is precious and Natalie’s infringing on it. You’ve set a boundary and yet again she’s disregarding it the same way she does with everyone else in her orbit.

“Give me the phone.” Jimmy hisses, reaching over you. The device is in his hand before you have a chance to react.

“Natalie.”

His tone is harsh and firm, it’s the one he uses in the E.D when everything goes to hell, and someone needs to take control. It’s cold, and cutting, a timbre you’ve never heard from Jimmy’s lips, because your Jimmy is warm and full of affection. You realise that this is Jimmy protecting his person, shielding you from someone who he views as a threat.

“This is beyond inappropriate even for you. I don’t care if the sky is falling down around your head. Do not call my wife again or I will make your life a misery. Do I make myself clear?”

He ends the call without waiting for an answer before handing the phone back to you. You return it to the charging station before twisting around to face him. Jimmy props his head up on his arm, that dark wave of hair falling across his forehead.

“You didn’t need to do that.” You tell him, your head coming to rest back on your pillow. Jimmy reaches out, his fingertips brushing a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.

“She’s been taking advantage of you for months and I hate it.” Jimmy said quietly, his lips brushing over your forehead tenderly. “You’ve been working yourself into the ground, you’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

His nose trails along the length of yours, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as his lips brush over yours.

“We’re a team honey, and that means we take care of each other.” He murmurs before kissing you. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Love Jimmy? Get added to his tag list!

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#jimmy lanik #jimmy lanik x you #jimmy lanik x reader #james lanik #james lanik x reader #james lanik x you

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yeenybeanies · 1 year

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Smallest Cyber Specialist (pt. 9)

if you found out that your dead partner's ex-wife was trying to contact you, would you give her a call? this is the question pip contemplates after receiving some of the worst news of her life. i apologize––i know my stuff tends to be pretty dialogue heavy, but this one is thick with dialogue --w--" first • previous • next call of duty | john mactavish/soap, simon riley/ghost, & pip lagomorph/lag (oc) 4,221 words strong language warning reblogs > likes!! thanks for reading!! patreon ✨ ko-fi ✨ ao3

Pip woke up with a gasp, her limbs flailing, tangling in the fabric around her. Where was she? When has she fallen asleep? What—?

With a frustrated grunt, she kicked the fabric off and sat upright.

The barracks. She was in the barracks, in a nest of blankets on someone’s bunk. It smelled like Soap’s.

Soap, asleep and snoring softly to her left, confirmed that it was, in fact, his bunk. The sergeant was lying on his stomach with his arms hugging his pillow to his chest and his head turned towards her. His face was soft and relaxed. Her stirring hadn’t disturbed him, it seemed. Good.

The adjacent bunk—Ghost’s—was empty. With Soap blocking her view of the other side, she couldn’t tell if Gaz was in his either. Many of the other bunks were occupied, though. It must have been night time. That would explain why the lights were out.

Gods above, she’d slept that long?

Passed out for that long, more like. Pip could taste the lingering notes of whiskey on her tongue. At least she didn’t have a headache…

Unconsciously, she reached to the side for her glove, but paused when her fingers met the coarse fabric.

The glove.

Heat rose in her cheeks. This was Ghost’s glove. And, in her half-drunk, grief-stricken stupor, she’d humped the damn thing.

A fucking glove. How embarrassing.

Worse still, she could see herself doing it again.

Pip dropped her head into her hands and bit back a groan. Alcohol and humping spare articles of clothing was not how she wanted to mourn the loss of her best friend. She scrubbed down her face and stared off into the darkness, brows pinched.

Laswell had mentioned that Dana was trying to contact her. For reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend, Looker’s ex-wife was looking for Pip. And, against her better judgment, Pip was coming around to the idea of obliging her. She already had Dana’s number—an in-case-of-emergencies bit of information Looker had given her to use in case no one else was able to inform his family of his death.

She never told him that she’d found Dana’s contact information and run a thorough background check on her long before that. The point was: one way or another, she had Dana’s number.

Pip reached past the glove for her backpack and the computer within. She glanced at the time on the screen. Three thirty-seven AM. That would make it six thirty-seven PM back in Texas, where Dana lived. That wasn’t too late to call.

But did Pip actually want to call? Of course she didn’t. Why was she even entertaining this idea? It was stupid!

She pulled up her SMS app and scrolled to Ghost’s contact.

>> it’s lag. where are you?

His response came only a minute later—admittedly, much faster than she’d expected.

How did you get this number <<

Pip rolled her eyes.

>> i have everyone’s number. even the secret ones. you’re not in your bunk.

Observant of you. <<

He was being annoying. To use his own words, a right wanker. Pip clenched her jaw and took a breath. She was trying to figure out how to rephrase what she wanted to say to him without all of the nasty words, when he started typing again.

I’m talking with Price. What do you need? <<

>> i need to make a call. need to go somewhere private.

Get Soap to take you. <<

Ugh. Why was he like this? One minute, he was compassionate—in his own weird, Ghost-y way—and the next he was being an ass. Or, in Soap’s words, a bawbag.

Human insults were so… dissatisfying.

A part of her welcomed the banter as a distraction. But most of her just found it frustrating. She typed back:

>> he’s asleep. assuming gaz is too. don’t want to wake them. >> if you don’t want to help, fine. i’ll jump down, hope i don’t break my other leg, and find somewhere to go on my own.

Sounds dramatic. Be there in a minute. <<

Yes, it was dramatic. But it worked. Pip snapped her laptop shut and dug her fingers into her hair. Soap stirred next to her, drawing Pip’s attention to him. He adjusted his hold on the pillow, and nuzzled further into it. His chest heaved in a heavy sigh, the warmth of his breath washing over Pip. The pink of his tongue flashed momentarily between his lips.

Pip shivered. Gods, she missed Looker.

And then she silently looked away and berated herself for that thought. Pull yourself together. You’re probably about to talk to his ex-wife.

“Lag?” Soap’s voice made Pip jump. Her head whipped around to face Soap again. He still looked half asleep, his eyes half-lidded. He breathed out sharply through his nose. “Spooky. You’ve got those glowy eyes.”

Pip blinked. It was true; in low light, hideling eyes did shine red.

“Go back to sleep, Soap,” she said.

A soft smile shaped his lips, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. He shifted to lie on his side. “You okay?”

Pip’s expression fell. She looked away and fidgeted idly with her hands. “No, I’m really not,” she said honestly, “but I’m going to have to be.”

Soap reached for her, his knuckle lightly brushing her shoulder. “Rough week, hm?”

She snorted humorlessly. “You have no idea.”

“I might—” he paused mid-sentence, eyes darting up. Pip followed his gaze to see Ghost’s silhouetted figure approaching. The lieutenant stopped at Soap’s bedside, his arms crossed over his chest. Even through the dark and his mask, Pip could see his raised brow.

“‘Soap’s asleep,’ huh? ‘Didn’t want to wake him’?”

Pip scowled up at him. “He was asleep,” she said tersely.

“‘M still asleep, LT,” Soap said with a lazy grin. “Sleep talking.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. Pip was tempted to do the same. “Shut up, Johnny,” he growled, but there was no real bite in his words. There never was, when it came to Soap. “Shut your eyes too, while you're at it.”

Pip put her hand to Soap’s knuckle. “I’ll be alright,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

Whether or not he believed her, Soap nodded, and pulled his hand away. He exchanged a quick glance with Ghost, then rolled over onto his other side and pulled his blanket up to his shoulders.

Ghost’s hand came down next to Pip, silently inviting her on. She grabbed her backpack, her crutches, and her glove, then climbed into his palm. A faint smell of cigar smoke clung to him, his clothes. Pip inhaled slowly, subtly, drinking in the smoky-sweet aroma. Price must have lit one up while he and Ghost were having their late night chat.

She wouldn’t mind a few second-hand puffs, if she was honest.

“Where to?” Ghost asked once they were out in the hall, well out of earshot of any sleeping operators. “Price’s stash room again?”

Pip thought for a moment. She didn’t need the temptation of liquor again so soon. Ghost didn’t need to enable her either. “No,” she said. “No one’s in the mess hall, right? I can work on my pelt when I’m done with the call.” Doing so would probably distract her from some of the grief, at least. And it was a more productive distraction than anything else she could see herself doing.

“Should be quiet in there,” Ghost said. He turned down a corridor, headed towards the mess hall.

“I still don’t want to talk about it,” Pip added. Just in case Ghost was curious.

The lieutenant shrugged. “Still wasn’t gonna ask,” he said. “How much longer until your pelt’s ready?”

“I’ll finish it today.”

“Good. Then you won’t have to defile my glove anymore.”

Pip froze, her mind coming to a momentary standstill. Fuck. Did he know? How had he found out? Heat rose in her cheeks, but she refused to give him a reaction. She wouldn’t even acknowledge his comment. It could mean anything, right? Absolutely.

“Why are you and Price still up?” she asked, pointedly changing the topic. “It’s almost four in the morning.”

“Woke up. Couldn’t go back to sleep. Not sure if Price ever went to bed.”

Of all her handlers, Pip was the least familiar with Price’s sleeping habits. Gaz slept pretty solidly, but he did tend to toss a bit. Soap, for the most part, was dead to the world when he slept, though he had woken up once in a startle. Scared the shit out of Pip that time. Ghost was more tumultuous. He didn’t move too much, but he was easy to wake, like his sleep cycle was on a hair trigger.

But Captain John Price? Pip had never been around Price while he was asleep.

She hummed a thoughtful note.

“Who are you callin’ at almost four in the morning?” Ghost asked.

She hesitated to answer, deciding how much she wanted to tell him. A part of her wanted to tell him everything in hopes that he would talk her out of this very, very stupid idea; another part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off and mind his own damn business.

Ultimately, she settled on a vague middle ground: “It’s not four AM in America.”

Ghost eyed her through his peripherals, but didn’t ask for any further elaboration. “Just don’t compromise us, yeah?”

Indignation flared in her chest, hot and fast. Pip whipped her head around to glare at the lieutenant, her lip curled. “Fuck off, Riley,” she snarled. She was pulling out the last name for this scolding. “Me? Of everyone here, I am the least likely to compromise anything.” Asshole.

Ghost snorted. “‘Riley,’” he repeated. “Sounds like I’m back in Basic getting an ass-chewing.”

“Probably deserved it then, too,” she grumbled.

“Probably.”

The mess hall was dark when they entered. Of course it was dark. It was four in the morning, as they’d established, and no one was in here. Ghost moved to flip on a light switch, but Pip stopped him.

“I don’t need the light,” she said. “You can leave it off.”

“All fine and well,” he replied, “but I can’t see shite, and I’m the one carrying you to your pelt.”

“I’ll guide you. Sidestep to your left, turn to eleven o’ clock, and start walking.” When Ghost didn’t move, Pip tipped her head back in exasperation. In doing so, she locked eyes with Ghost. “We’ve done this already, Lieutenant. A week ago.”

“Same day you got blown up, yeah. I remember.”

She grimaced, none too appreciative of that little reminder. “Just walk,” she said sternly.

And he did. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much of a change in his gait. His steps were a bit more careful, but he largely walked the same way he normally did, and followed Pip’s direction like a good soldier. When he was one step away from the table, Pip instructed him to stop, and he did. He felt out with his free hand for the table’s surface, finding it with ease.

“This is good. Thanks,” Pip said as he set her down.

“Let me know when you need me to come get you,” Ghost said, pulling his hand back once she disembarked.

“I’ll be fine here tonight,” she replied. “You should rest.”

“You sure?”

She gave him an annoyed look, her wide pupils catching that red glow in the low light. “Am I sure that you should rest?”

She knew that wasn’t what he was asking about, but she turned it on him nevertheless. Her handlers needed their rest if they were to keep her safe. That was the only reason she cared. Absolutely.

Ghost put his hands up. “Lucky I can’t pull rank on you for that attitude,” he said, his voice halfway to a growl. Damn right, too. Technically, none of them could pull rank on her—not even Price. She didn’t actually work for the 141; she was just here to help on Laswell’s request.

She also had half a mind to mention that Soap was regularly insubordinate—in how he spoke to Ghost in particular—but she kept that to herself.

“Good night, Ghost,” Pip said with a dismissive wave. She turned away from him and pretended to examine her pelt, at least until she heard his soft footfalls recede into the hall and beyond.

Gods, for such a massive human, he could be scarily quiet.

Once she was sure he was gone, she released a heavy exhale. So, she was really doing this. She was going to call Dana.

Why? She didn’t know. Closure, maybe? But what closure would this bring her? Was it guilt? These questions rattled around in her mind as she opened her computer and pulled up Dana’s contact information again. Before she could have any more second thoughts, she hit the call button.

And it rang.

Nervous energy drove her to fidget. She adjusted her headset. Adjusted her scarf. Adjusted her computer. Adjusted her headset again. Audio only to her? Yep. Voice modulator still working? Of course.

The line rang twice more. Hope bubbled in Pip’s chest. Maybe Dana was busy. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t be able to call this number back—

“Hello?” Dana.

Fuck!

Pip couldn’t find her voice.

“Hello…?”

If she didn’t say anything now, Dana was going to hang up. Pip muted her mic, cleared her throat, and forced herself to speak. Mic back on, she said, “Miss Ortega?”

Dana Ortega. Formerly Mrs. Dana Ortega-Looker. She’d dropped his name when they’d gotten divorced.

“Yes? Who is this?”

Pip’s mouth felt dry. Swallowing didn’t help any. She cleared her throat again. “This is Agent Lagomorph. I was told that—”

“Lag? You’re Lag?”

She stammered for a moment. “Uh—I’m—yes, I’m Lag. Miss Ortega, I was told that you—”

Again, Dana interrupted, “You sound different than I imagined.” Pip didn’t know how to respond to that. Dana continued, “I imagined you sounding more like a stupid bimbo bitch from California.”

Damn. Pip stared at the screen with brows furrowed, a little taken aback. The sudden hostility was simultaneously a surprise, and not surprising at all. “...Did he say I was from California?”

“No. He never told me anything about you. Not even your real fucking name. A part of me thought you weren’t even real, but, with how tight-lipped he was about you, and how much time you two spent together…” She trailed off with a sigh. She sounded frustrated. Angry.

“We were partners,” Pip said, keeping her voice even, “and our line of work requires the utmost secrecy…”

“Shut up,” Dana snapped, making Pip flinch. “I don’t want to hear it. You say you two were partners, huh?”

“Yes—”

“Then why is my husband dead, Lag?”

The question hit her like a punch to the chest, dead center. It felt like it could have knocked the air from her lungs. “He—you—” she paused to take a breath, eyes closed. Calm. Steady. “He was your ex-husband. And he was KIA.”

Dana scoffed. Pip tried to imagine her body language. Human nonverbal communication was still an enigma to her, but she’d been noticing some things since her introduction to the 141. Balled fists when frustrated. Raised heads. Puffed chests. Clenched jaws. Narrowed eyes. Some things were similar to hideling behavior; others were very different.

“‘Partner,’” she spat the word like it was a curse, laced with venom. “Don’t partners protect each other? Have each other’s back? So why is Dominic dead?”

His first name was less like a punch to the chest and more like a knife slotted between her ribs. Pip grimaced and dragged her hands down her face. She tried to keep her voice from breaking, but couldn’t completely mask the strain as she spoke. “I wasn’t near Dom when he was killed. I was performing my duties elsewhere at the time. There was nothing I could have done to protect or save him.”

Nothing at all. And that hurt to know.

Even if she had been there, what could she have done? The “protection” in their partnership was largely one-sided, as it always was with hideling-human dynamics.

She hadn’t even been able to see him before he was sent back home in a body bag… The last time she’d seen his face was right after he’d discreetly let her out of his backpack near the server room. He’d wished her luck with a thumbs up, then rushed off to rejoin Ghost’s squad. Fearless Looker...

“So you’re kinda useless as a partner, huh?” Dana cut in. Pip felt her nose crinkle, but she said nothing. She wouldn’t acknowledge that. “You’re the reason he and I divorced, and you got him killed.”

Well, so much for holding her tongue. “I had no part in your divorce,” she snarled. “You left him because of your own insecurities. That is not on me.”

“Tell me, Lag, were you fucking him? Huh? Did you two fuck?”

Pip nearly choked on her own spit. The audacity of this woman! “Wha—that’s none of your business.”

“Anything other than a resounding ‘no’ is a ‘yes,’” Dana said. Pip could hear the cruel smile in her voice, which only pissed her off more.

Who did this woman think she was? Why was Pip even talking to her? This had been an enormously terrible idea.

“So he was cheating on me,” Dana continued.

“No,” Pip said quickly. Defensively. She took a pause to breathe in through her nose, out through her mouth. Calm. “No. He wasn’t. Never did. He loved you, Dana.” Another pause. “We only ever had sex after your divorce.”

That was unnecessary. It really was none of Dana’s business who Pip—or Looker, for that matter—hooked up with. Pip didn’t know why she’d said that.

“Whore,” Dana spat.

Childish. Petty insults wouldn’t hurt her.

“Why didn’t you come to his funeral?” Dana asked. It sounded more like an accusation.

“I couldn’t attend,” Pip said simply. It wasn’t a lie. “I’m still on mission. Our mission. I’d like to send flowers, though, if you tell me where he’s b—”

“Keep your goddamn flowers.”

Pip pressed her lips together, a little frustrated, a little confused. Humans liked to place flowers on the graves of the dead, right? Americans, at least…

“You really are the worst fucking person to be paired up with.” Dana said. “First you let Dominic die, and then you don’t even have the decency to take off work and lay him to rest? Did the CIA give you a new partner yet, hm? Another poor bastard for you to get killed?”

Pip was starting to see red. She clenched her jaw. Balled her fist. Dana had to be intentionally ignoring what she was saying.

Breathe in… breathe out… Disregard the comment about her new partner…

Partners. Plural. Pip stole a glance at her cast, and the four signatures scrawled across it. She felt a pang in her chest.

This was a woman lashing out in her grief, Pip reminded herself. But fuck! Pip was grieving too!

“You have no idea what we were involved in—what I’m still involved in.”

“Because Dominic would never tell me any—”

“Because you are not authorized to know,” she interrupted. If Dana wanted to act childish, then Pip would speak to her like a child. “Don’t get mad at me because you’re in the dark; it is not my decision. It wasn’t Dom’s decision to withhold things from you, either—about his job or about me. It comes with the territory. You agreed to this when you married him, Dana. When you first started dating him!”

Gods, she remembered that day—the day Looker told her that he’d met someone that he really liked. Someone he really wanted to pursue.

Pip had been skeptical from the get-go, but she wanted Looker to be happy.

“It isn’t my fault that you couldn’t handle it—that you couldn’t trust him—and chose to divorce him. As soon as you signed those papers, you lost all right to what little information you were allowed. Even this conversation—I am calling you as a courtesy, because I cared about Dom, and I know he cared about you.”

“Fuck you,” Dana spat.

Fuck you too, you hollow bat. Rot in the sun. “I think that’s enough. Good night, Miss Ortega. We—”

“He has a child.”

Pip froze. She went silent for nearly a minute. Had she misheard? “...What?”

“He has a child,” Dana repeated, sounding smug. “Almost two years old. Born not long after our divorce.”

Looker never told her about a child. And Looker told her damn near everything. She knew that man inside and out. She knew him better than Dana ever could. He would have told her if he had a kid. Which means that either Dana never told him, or that she was lying.

She hunched over and started to type on her computer. “You never told him that he was a father?” It was her turn to sound accusatory.

“Why would I?” Dana said. “It wasn’t like he’d have time for a family. He was always too busy gallivanting off with you.”

Pip started a search. She could comb through hospital records of births in Dana’s area in the general time frame of a human pregnancy, but that net was too wide. She could do better. She felt no obligation to operate within human legal channels, either. Her whole job revolved around ignoring human privacy laws.

It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Pip’s typing slowed. She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re a liar,” she said dryly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a liar, Miss Ortega.” Dana waffled, but Pip didn’t let her gather her bearings. “There is absolutely no record anywhere of a child born under your name. And believe me, Miss, I am very thorough when it comes to looking through records.”

“I—what—how could you possibly—”

“What’s the child’s name?” Pip asked. She was no longer interested in playing nice. “When is its birthday? What is its favorite toy?”

Dana had no answers. She could only sputter and stammer.

“Why would you try to lie to me about something like this, Dana?” Pip leaned back onto the heels of her palms and turned her head to the ceiling. Her energy was spent, and her patience along with it. “Even if there was a kid, telling me this is a disservice to Dom, more than anything. Not me. I’m done talking to you. We will never speak to each other again.” That was a promise. “Have a good evening, Miss Ortega.”

“You bitch! If I ever find out—”

“You won’t.” Click.

Pip breathed out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging under the weight of… of everything, really. She shouldn’t have done that. She should not have called Looker’s ex-wife. Nothing was gained from their conversation; it only served to reopen still very fresh wounds.

“Fucking pile of rotten coyote’s guts,” Pip muttered in Hidespeak. Her native insults always felt so much better than English ones. Calling someone a female dog? A sex worker? A body part? Please.

Telling someone that not even the hungriest vultures would touch their corpse—now that was an insult.

Regardless, Pip once again found herself questioning why Looker had ever married that gutpile. She’d never liked Dana, and Dana hated that Looker had a secret work partner. Looker knew of this animosity. But it was never Pip’s place to intervene in his relationships. He was a grown man, after all.

When Dana presented Looker with the ultimatum: her or Pip, their marriage or his career, Pip remembered his heartbreak. He’d taken emergency leave to try and work things out with her. Pip remembered the anxiety she’d felt, waiting at their HQ, not knowing whether or not Looker would come back, wondering if she'd have to be assigned another new handler… But he’d returned.

Now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall Looker ever explicitly telling her that he’d chosen the CIA over Dana. He’d only said that she was divorcing him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And now, here she was two years later. Looker was dead, and Pip was stuck with not one, but four untrained handlers, on the most dangerous mission she’d ever been assigned.

This had been the single-most stressful week of her life. However… not that she'd ever tell them, but these four rough-n-tough soldiers were growing on her. Even Price.

Ugh. She didn't want to think about that.

Pip rolled her head to the side, looking at her pelt. It was dried and treated. Now it just needed to be shaped. She glanced quickly at her computer screen, noting the time. Quarter past four.

Damn, she’d suffered a conversation with Dana for more than ten minutes? How miserable.

The 141 would be waking up soon. Hopefully Price and Ghost could manage to get some sleep. In the meantime, Pip had a pelt to work on. She could try to distract herself from her woes with the prospect of finally having a proper disguise again.

A sidelong look to Ghost’s glove gave her pause. She considered it for a long moment, then snorted softly to herself. It was a shit replacement for a pelt in almost every way.

She wasn’t done with it, though. Ghost was just going to have to make do with his mismatched gloves for the foreseeable future.

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #g/t cod #john mactavish #simon riley #pip lagomorph #poor gal's really goin' thru it :')#hyena writes #hyena ocs

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Santa's Helper

A SURPRISE CHRISTMAS FIC FOR TREVOR AS IT'S BEEN FAR TOO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN FOR HIM...

TW: Smut. Language. Dom!Trevor.

SUMMARY: Your decision to tease Trevor has sexually dire consequences.

WORD COUNT: 700

*Original Concept*

Santa’s Helper

“I’m sure it isn’t that bad…” You called from the kitchen, pulling the rim of the mug to your lips as you anxiously awaited how he would look in his recent ‘uniform’. Unfortunate as it may have been to not have a consistent means of income, either of you were destined to accept and endure any fleeting opportunity to make ends meet, had meant you were forced to accept whatever the job entailed. And yet, this may have been one worth a lack of electricity or running water for him as he remained behind your bedroom door.

“If you say a fucking word-”

“Just come out!” You urged as the door came open, revealing the vulgar man you knew sweetened by the sight of Christmas spirit forced upon him. A pointed green hat covering his short hair had only begun your observation as you continued lower still to the body you knew well as it was now set beneath the comical fabric of an elf costume.

“One word and-”

“You look cute.” He cocked his jaw.

“Cute?” His eyes narrowed as he began to move slowly towards you as you pressed the mug into the counter at your side, leaving it in disregard, as he continued towards you.

“It is…you have the little bells and-” He continued to nod, as if considering your words, but only doing so until he had you pressed against the far counter of your shared kitchen.

“How cute is it going to be stained with your come, baby?” You were lifted beside the sink, his shirt recently over your torso now discarded on the floor, as he pulled you into him with a deep kiss.

“Trevor-”

“You’ve said enough baby…all you’re allowed to do now is tell me how good it feels…We both know it won’t take long…” He pulled you to the very edge of the surface supporting you as his tongue sourcing for yours had been enough to keep you silent from making some smart-assed response.

“That good like that, baby? Hmm? Like it this deep?” You would shake your head as you removed the vest portion of his costume until he was left shirtless.

“No…Bend me over…Over the counter…”

“Like this?” He asked, guiding you to that angle you requested.

“YES!” You called out as he penetrated into you once again. “Pull my hair…please!” He obliged, your long hair taken into his fist as you were kept at that angle but pulled in his direction.

“Oh that feels gooood…” He groaned as you now wore into him, using your own thrust and direction to work against his hips.

“You want to fuck me? Then fuck me, baby…I’m giving you more than you deserve anyway…” But as you attempted to steady yourself, he would only collect your hands as reins over the dimples of your back, and tighten the grip of your hair.

“YES! JUST LIKE THAT!” He smacked your ass, releasing your hair for only a moment.

“Say it again.” He ordered through clenched teeth. “Say it when I’m even deeper, baby.”

“Fuck, TREVOR!”

“I want the neighbors to hear you-”

“Then go harder-” You turned to face him as he growled, lifting one of your legs to the counter and pulling you faster into him. This angle having hit THAT spot with each thrust.

“That’s it…that’s gonna make you come-”

“I’m-”

“Say it!”

“I’M GONNA COME! FUCK!”

“All over me, baby…come on…COME ON!” He ordered, sounding aggressive, but he was otherwise compassionate to ensure you found your release before his own.

“TREVOR!” You called as he released you completely to hold himself onto the counter as he produced those final thrusts needed for his own orgasm, your neck taken in a grip, before he pulled you to face him.

“No-”

“Trevor…”

“I told you that you were going to come on it…” He explained as you stood over the costume, his fingers working your clit.

“So you’re gonna do that for me…”

“It’s too much-”

“Then you shouldn’t have said anything…” He smacked your ass from behind before kissing you deeply, only pulling apart as you began to build to that second orgasm…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love

Masterlist:https://at.tumblr.com/thecameronchronicles/the-cameron-chronicles-ultimate-master-list/v50j91ioduti

#hellraiser trevor #trevor #trevor hellraiser #hellraisertrevor #hellraiser 2022 #hellraiser #Cameron Chronicles Christmas 2022

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noa-de-cajou · 25 days

Text

Prudence, Tomyris and the templars belong to @soupedepates !

CW for implications of child abuse

---

Prudence hates me.

I could tell the second she opened the door on us. The smile that didn't quite meet the eyes, the instant stiffness when she laid eyes on my hijab.

Prudence despises her sister.

I could tell the second she opened her mouth to greet Tomyris. The exaggerated warmth, the controlled kindness. It reminds me of Darsameen, in a way. Except Darsameen had the good taste of not pretending to like me.

Prudence is unhappy.

I could tell the second she laid her eyes on Élisabeth-Charlotte, her two years old niece, our child, in Tomyris’ arms. It was the first time we visited her since her birth. The way she paled slightly, then ushered us inside with a surprisingly sincere don’t stay out there in the cold, you’ll catch something!

Then the unhappiness could be felt everywhere. In the walls, in the enormous amount of kids running around, in the kiss her husband Ghislain gave her before looking away completely, in the meal she prepared alone for them. There was no pork in the food, but she did look displeased when I refused the wine.

Now Ghislain has stepped out for “a digestive walk”, even though I suspect he’s just uncomfortable around me, Tomyris and our daughter, born without a father. Said daughter is blissfully unaware of the uneasy mood and cheerfully playing with Prudence’s youngest kids, who don’t seem to give a flying shit that Beth’s existence isn’t approved of by the bible. They have gotten Tomyris into one of their game and she doesn't seem to mind.

As for Prudence herself? She’s washing the dishes in the kitchen, alone. I’m standing on the threshold, looking at her back in her baby blue dress and her perfectly braided black hair. The stiffness hasn’t left her. I clear my throat, she turns around. Her gaze turns cold and disdainful once more, despite her smile.

“Salimeh. Do you need something?”

“Just thought you could use some company. You don't look like you want my help.”

She blinks in surprise, but her expression then turns to annoyance. She’s not used to being found out, this one.

“Well, it's not like I can kick my guests out of my kitchen,” she replies.

Oh, Prudence, I can tell you want to. But I know you won't.

“Perfect, then.”

I make my way over to her and remain standing by the window as she aggressively scrubs a plate. For a while, neither of us says anything. But eventually, she feels obligated to make small talk.

“I hope the meal was to your tastes. I don’t know what you usually eat.”

It's more passive-agressive than it looks. In her mouth, it sounds like I'm some sort of root-eating savage.

“It was really good, thank you. I noticed you cared enough to not include pork, I really appreciate it.”

She looks a bit taken aback again. Probably not expecting me to thank her for it.

“It was a coincidence. The children prefer chicken.”

I doubt it, but it's time to change subjects.

“Thank you for having us, again. Tomyris was so happy that we could finally bring Beth to meet you. She's been on about it all week.”

Prudence’s shoulders tense again at the mention of her sister.

“The pleasure is mine.”

It isn’t.

“I know that took effort,” I say with my most compassionate smile.

“Beth is adorable and quite well-behaved, so it’s no problem at all.”

That sounds sincere, but there's a form of bitterness to it. One I know exactly the nature of.

“No, I insist. It must be hard. After all, children were the only thing you could have that Tomyris couldn't. I can tell it takes a toll on you.”

She stops scrubbing to look at me with pure shock. I said that in the most casual way possible, like it was easy to guess.

“What are you implying?”

Her tone is colder now. She clearly hates being read through, which is not surprising.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Prudence, relax. It's normal to feel bitter about these kinds of things. I have older sisters too, so I understand.”

“With all due respect, Salimeh, I don’t think you do,” she replies dryly while resuming her scrubbing.

“No, really. Girls marrying young is common in parts of my culture, as well.”

I don't say the words “child marriage”. That would disqualify me in her eyes. It would sound moralist. She heeds me for now. No matter how much it irks me, I have to be cautious.

“My oldest sister, Darsameen, she married very young too. Had three beautiful kids, a daughter and two sons. She kind of reminds me of you. Very serious, quite duty-lead. My other sister, Parvaneh, didn’t want that and went to study at the capital instead. For several reasons, I couldn't have anything they had. No children, no studies either. I managed catch up on the studies later, but, well… Forgive me for being blunt, but Tomyris is not the sterile one in our relationship.”

Prudence looks surprised, and… Allah, there's actual pity in her gaze. This is templar culture, so of course being sterile is a woman’s greatest tragedy, but it's still off-putting.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay. Even if I didn’t carry her, Beth is still my kid. We'll go with adoption for the next ones, at any rate.”

“... You're planning on having more?”

I can feel the slight tremble in her voice. The frustration. The way any additional kids in our household rubs salt in her wound.

“Not right away, but yes. There are many children out there looking for families, after all.”

She mumbles a vague reply, then goes back to her silent, agressive scrubbing. I pity the plate. After a while, I decide that maybe I should be a little firmer.

“You know, I used to resent both of my sisters for having what I couldn't. I felt justified in it, too, because Darsameen didn’t like me much either, but she clearly didn't want to be in my place. You used to be happy with the fact that Tomyris envied you, didn’t you? You look lost now that it isn’t the case anymore.”

My tone is less gentle. Colder. But I'm not letting it slip into something bigger. Otherwise, it's over.

“This isn’t a competition, Prudence.”

“Would you quit talking like you know everything?!”

Ah. I think those words hit a little too close. Because Prudence is now looking right at me with a face twisted by a barely contained anger.

“It has always been a competition, Salimeh.”

There it is.

“Maybe it was. Maybe you had to be better than Tomyris so you could hold the position of eldest daughter in your parents’ eyes. But Tomyris has left the Commanderie and your parents are not around anymore. This situation was unfair to both of you.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Prudence snaps. “I am perfectly content with my life and proud of the values I uphold. Values that, of course, you wouldn’t understand.”

“It wouldn’t bother me if that wasn’t a lie,” I reply, my voice icy. “If you were truly content, then you wouldn't be so angry to see your sister thriving the way she does. And I'm not trying to convince you that you're unhappy, because I think you already know that.”

She grips her plate harder, her hands shaking.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I step closer to her. She doesn't back off.

“I do. And I'm no better. Because I'm not telling you this purely out of concern for your well-being. I do this because I'm tired of you always being contemptuous and passive-agressive towards Tomyris, the woman I love more than anything, especially since she loves you sincerely too. You’re allowed to be angry, sad, unhappy. But if you stay stuck in this mindset without ever questionning it, then you're no better than the people who inflicted it on you in the first place.”

A memory flashes through my mind. Darsameen coming to visit, which is rare. She insisted, apparently. She’s holding little Brishna, her newly-born son, in her arms while her five year-old daughter plays at her feet with her other son, still a baby too. The men are in another room. I’m preparing food for everyone. I’m famished, I can barely stand, my entire body hurts, I have a fever, I washed myself three times but the smell is still there, my dress can't hide the bruises on my wrists, I'm not even thirteen. Darsameen looks at me from her chair, and I can tell she's unhappy. But I am visibly, thoroughly miserable.

And it's the only thing that can make her smile.

“We are not the same!”

Prudence’s scream, followed by a loud crash, startles me back to reality. She dropped the plate she was washing on the floor, it broke, but neither of us are paying attention to it.

“You're right,” I say after a while. “We’re not the same.”

I look at the ceramic pieces scattered accross the floor.

“But my point still stands. If I may use a timely metaphor, maybe it’s not your fault the plate’s broken. But giving shit to someone else for getting a new plate because you don't have the courage to fix your own… It will not make it better. It’ll hurt them. It’ll hurt you.”

Prudence stares at me, breathing heavily, cheeks reddened, but slowly her anger starts to subside. She looks down at her broken plate and I can see just how tired she looks. She crouches down, starts picking the pieces up. I do the same. She doesn’t push me away.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” she whispers after a while, her voice shaky.

“It's okay. I apologize for pushing you like this. But I don't think I'm the one you should say sorry to.”

She doesn't reply to this. I see the tears slowly welling up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and the silent sobs shaking her shoulders. But I don’t say anything. I pretend I don't notice and she pretends I'm not here.

It’s fine like this.

We can keep picking up what's broken.

#noa writes stuff #lpm #ast #templar content #something about the parallels between salimeh and prudence #they make me unwell

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deadwardianpoltergeist · 1 year

Text

if Raph has 1000 fans I’m one of them, if he has 10 fans I’m one of them, if she has 1 fan it’s me, if he has 0 fans I’m dead

she genuinely is a good person, and I love 2003 tmnt for how they portray him

her anger is never demonized, and the way splinter handles it in 2003 is LIGHTYEARS better than how 2012 splinter does, 2003 splints reassures and comforts raph when she’s upset, because she actually understands why raph acts the way he does

versus in 2012, where splinter reprimands him and never actually helps her with his anger, only telling him to just control it, lest it destroys her, but never actually says how he’s supposed to do that

in 2003 raph’s character is so well handled and it’s what makes this show so special to me

the way they have tender moments with him and her siblings, the way that he’s shown being a genuinely compassionate creature, and most of all the way his anger in “Meet Casey Jones” is put

he loses her temper with mikey, who won’t stop fueling her irritation, until he completely goes red(haha, red) and almost seriously hurts angelo

instead of her siblings getting mad at him for losing her temper, they just pull him off mikey, and splinter simply tells raph to go above ground to cool off some steam

no “what the (s)hell is wrong with you” or “you need to just chill out and stop being angry” just them moving in to de-escalate the situation, while still having understanding

and then he goes off in the city, saying “what the shell is wrong with me” and it just. it’s so painfully real(other than the turtle pun but it’s a kid’s show), and then she sees casey and goes “hey this guy’s like me” and then tries to help casey, trying to tell her that, hey, you have to take a minute to step back because letting your anger get to you like that only hurts people, and hurts you too

and her temper never causes a rift between him and her siblings, only differences in mindsets in “A City At War” where raph is convinced they have no obligation to stop the gang fights(although that is weird because it literally is their problem, they help innocent people and innocent people are getting hurt in the cross fire) causes an big thing where raph won’t listen to leo

and raph and mikey still very much get along, even if mike is kind of an annoying little shit(/aff)

I love 2003 raph so much, even more than other versions of raph, which is saying something because he’s is my favourite turtle in almost every version

#2012 splinter really said just be less angry dude #he does realize that’s not how emotions work right? 💀#control the fire that is anger? like you controlled the fire that killed your wife right #hamato raphael #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #hamato splinter #master splinter #raph tmnt #he/she raph is canon guys he told me herself/j #BUT LIKE 2003 RAPH JUST MEETS THIS OLD LADY AND IS SO NICE TO HER #GIVES HER A WHOLE BRIEFCASE OF MONEY AND EVERYTHING

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essayofthoughts · 10 months

Note

Just to preface this with the note that a chunk of my response is going beneath a cut just for length. Nonny, I really do wish you’d spoken to me as yourself and not on-anon; I’d have loved to talk about this all one-on-one with you, but as you’ve not responded to my request that you do so and I have no idea who you are - my response is going here. A lot of your thoughts here are things I’ve been thinking about myself and I’d love to have a proper chat with you!

(this is so long I’m sorry feel free to ignore) I just have a lot of thoughts about Kash and Zahra and their respective patrons and the associated stereotypes. Z’s a tiefling and a warlock, stereotypically someone who made a shady deal to get power, but her relationship with her patron is much Much healthier than Kash’s. Zahra’s patron Sirius is hinted to be a star spirit, imprisoned in a constellation for betraying the moon goddess Sehanine, but he seems to have saved Zahra not out of any deal for his freedom but because he couldn’t bring himself to watch an abandoned, suffering child die just after freeing herself. Her own father kept her in a cage, but Sirius showed her that what happened to her was wrong, that she didn’t deserve it, and empowered her to help herself and others, and Z grew up to be incredibly compassionate and empathetic. Kash is a cleric, stereotyped as Good™️, but he begs the question: Can fear motivate someone to be a good person? He does good things, but at the beginning of his arc, out of obligation, sometimes resentfully, and most of all crippling terror of what Vesh will do if he doesn’t. He was taught that he was Vesh’s Chosen One, and even when he defies that, he still thinks he has sole responsibility for stopping her. He’s simultaneously extremely arrogant and has no sense of self-worth, and he's shocked that Zahra saves his life “when she didn’t need to” Something about how true altruism is hard when you’re denied humanity and living in fear, but it’s easier when someone shows you you’re not alone. Whatever he did in the past, Sirius taught Zahra kindness, and Z took that lesson to heart. When Kash needed a bit more help to break his cycle of abuse, she paid it forward. idk I just think it’s touching that Zahra and Kash show that healing can be a cycle as well as trauma. (Tysm if you read all of this, hope it wasn't too much!)

It was not too much at all and I would like to reiterate once again that I would really like to talk to you, Nonny. You’ve got some interesting thoughts here and I’d like to be able to chat with you and discuss this with you and actually have someone to attribute some of these thoughts to, rather than be left to point at the shadow of a stranger that could be anyone.

I think you make a very good point about the points of similarity vs. contrast with Kash and Zahra, and it’s very fun that they have very different relationships with their patrons than what most expect. People expect clerics to have a much more voluntary, positive relationship with their gods, while warlocks and their relationships to their patrons are frequently much more suspect. The fact that these two flip that on its head is a lot of fun, and the fact that they end up so close does draw the mirroring into sharp relief.

I think also that it’s notable that Zahra’s faith in her patron is such that even full awareness of what awful things another’s patron could do, the betrayal of that kind of trust, doesn’t make her doubt Sirius. She has to know a good part of what Vesh has done to Kash to have helped him grow in the way we see on stream (for more on why, please read this wonderful meta by @exhaustedwerewolf) but it at no point and in no way makes her doubt Sirius. Just based on her personality I highly doubt her faith in him is blind, which suggests instead that, in some way, he has proven trustworthy to her, proven supportive, proven to be all the things Vesh isn’t to Kash - and so in turn, likely helps Zahra explain to Kash what’s so fucked up about everything with Vesh, because she has the example of what powerful, supportive patronage can look like.

The rest of your ask and the rest of my thoughts are going beneath a cut because they get long and rambly and discuss some things related to what you brought up but more… adjacent rather than direct.

Firstly is - I do mean this gently, because I think it’s something that many people don’t think too deeply about in good part because Kash himself disinvites people from thinking too deeply about him by being so abrasive - but I don’t think he was ever motivated by fear to be good, as you put it. I think he always was good, underneath it all, and I promise you this isn’t just me defending the blorbo! I promise!

The thing is… Vesh is evil. We know from the Campaign guides that other followers of Vesh actively create cults, that one follower over in Wildemount is happy to torture people for his goals. Being good is something he does very much in spite of her. His abrasiveness is his attempt to keep people away - from asking too deeply about his foundational trauma - but… for all that he definitely is afraid of Vesh, if fear was his primary motivator, I don’t think he’d ever have attacked her when he was fifteen.

We know he didn’t know the truth until the culmination of the Sting and the binding rite - her sweat mixed with his blood and he gained her memories and that’s how he discovered that she’s (ha!) god-awful. He would know from those memories that she murdered everyone in his village, everyone he’s ever known and loved. That she enjoyed doing that. He would know from those memories that she murders chosen who she feels betray her, and those around them, and we know he’s aware of this long before we are (thanks to the Campaign Guides) because he says when we first meet him that they can’t ask her for a favour because, to quote: “I suppose I could, but there’s a good chance she’ll kill you, me, and everyone around at the same time.”

He knows he is not exempt from Vesh’s murderousness - if he’d wanted to stay alive, his best bet would have been to do nothing! To bow to her will and cede to her whims. But despite that, on discovering what she truly was, his first instinct was to try to stop her. At fifteen.

Boy is a life cleric through and through, he really is, because what this shows is that, despite all of his abrasiveness, despite his claims to and at times appearance of self-centredness (and I have no doubt that he has historically been an arrogant shit, he was literally raised as a chosen one!) he does care deeply about the wellbeing of others, both his loved ones and total strangers. He fought Vesh most likely knowing full well that she could and probably would try to kill him for it but he did it anyway, because he refused to allow something as evil as Vesh to exist in the world.

I… honestly think that, underneath all his trauma and abrasiveness, Kash has always been good, has always believed in life and healing - it’s just that his cult upbringing and the brutal revelation of it during his formative trauma kind of made it hard for him to believe the same of others. He lost the naivete and hope that’s part of what initially annoys him with Keyleth - but I also think it’s what draws him to her, and draws him to Zahra. Here are people each with their own shit, each with their own reasons to be just like him and… they’re not. They’re kind, they’re loving, they’re hopeful. Keyleth tries to keep spirits up even when Vax is in the worst mood ever and Tiberius is… Tiberius, Thorbir is rolling nat1s all over the show and Kash is being Kash. Zahra saves his life when she didn’t have to and, it’s worth remembering because this is before his healing even a little, when he’d most likely been a dick to her first! These two women show him very firmly that niceness, kindness, love and empathy, are not signs of weakness. Are not meaningless. And I think that’s a good part of why he’s then so open with Zahra and why he finds it so much easier to be open with and apologise to Keyleth - because these people have proven his trauma-induced worldview wrong.

And I think this is really cool! To link it back to what you’ve said about Zahra and Kash’s mirroring, Kash is a life cleric, raised to be a life cleric. By all rights his faith should enforce that belief and should support that belief, because that would empower him further, support their god and their faith… and it doesn’t! The cult and Vesh actively undermine it. Meanwhile Zahra is a child, newly freed of abuse, still primed to easily fall back into an abusive system or cycle and… instead, the offer from someone powerful to support her isn’t a trick to take advantage of her. It is genuine, it is a support she willingly leans on for the whole time that we see her. You expect the faith that instils belief in life to be positive - but it isn’t (people who want to poke at religious trauma in Critical Role, you’re all sleeping on Kashaw, I s2g)! And you expect the help offered by something so powerful to one without to come with significant strings attached - and again, it doesn’t! They are fantastic mirrors and the fact it wasn’t planned astounds me.

Seeeecondly, this is much more of a general ramble because I have seen that theory about Sirius possibly being a Star Spirit too, and I actually have no idea where it originated?

I first saw it on the wiki, and I’ll admit that it’s what I’m going with with what I’m writing, largely in lieu of anything else, but the thing is… I don’t know that the theory necessarily holds water? I think it’s just the best theory we’ve got to go on for now, if we don’t want to go with “Sirius is something completely unknown about which we know next to nothing” but… I also think the evidence for this is pretty thin on the ground and it makes me want to poke at all of the options with a stick.

I want answers, damnit.

You see - we get precious little about Sirius in the Campaign and, unlike Vesh, I don’t believe we’ve learned anything extra from the Campaign Guides. Sirius appears to be a Great Old One, based on what we see of Zahra’s powers, while I think a Star Spirit would be more likely to be a Celestial patron. They’re trapped in their current state due, very specifically, to having betrayed Sehanine, which suggests they were in a position of trust with her prior to that betrayal, so they could be anything from like the drow were to Correllon (the betrayal of worshippers and creations) to what Lolth was to Correllon (the betrayal of a celestial companion and creation). Given their apparent power, I would suspect they were the latter, perhaps some kind of celestial servitors to Sehanine, which would be fitting with what we know of other god’s celestial support. We know the Raven Queen’s angels were, almost to a one, lost during the conflict with the Betrayer gods, we know that same conflict drastically reduced Sarenrae and Ioun’s power, and it’d be the time period most likely to lead to one powerful group betraying another which held them as trustworthy - certainly, the Betrayer gods are called that for a reason! And they’re called Star spirits, which does certainly match to Sehanine’s role of the moon goddess - both are celestial bodies, after all.

And that’s another hitch in my wondering what exactly Sirius is, because Sirius is very explicitly associated with Catha, the primary moon itself, and not the stars or a constellation as the spirits explicitly are. And he’s a Great Old One, not any kind of Celestial (which would be doubly fitting if he was a Star spirit, and thus an entity of, again, the celestial sphere, yes I know it’s a silly bit of wordplay but it makes me happy, damnit).

I’d be very interested to find out where the theory originated, because the only real links I can see for it is just… Sehanine herself existing, that Sirius is surprisingly empathetic/trustworthy for a Great Old One, and that Star Spirits are capable of being some kind of powerful patron. And… it’s not like deities big and small can’t share domains or have overlapping ones (both Melora and Pelor overlap in how they help plants grow and thrive, and both Pelor and Sarenrae share the domains of the sun and light), nor that a Great Old One couldn’t be attached to a very specific aspect of something otherwise largely linked to another entity (many of them have aspects of madness, which several Betrayer gods can tap into) or learn how to connect to mortals, nor that there aren’t many kinds of powerful warlock patron!

I’d honestly be really interested to find out more about Sirius, the Great Old One patron directly, not just what he is, but also how he came to be so empathetic, trustworthy and caring for a type of entity that is, pretty explicitly in most material, quite alien to mortal life! Great Old Ones are weird and strange and other, they are often the epitome of blue/orange morality, and this usually leads to a disconnect between them and those they bestow patronage upon. And yet… Zahra has absolute, easy faith in Sirius. While Kash is terrified to invoke Vesh to try to resurrect Vex, Zahra acts without hesitation to invoke her patron as her offering to try to save her. She goes out of her way to meditate in moonlight to connect to him. There is absolutely something there, that makes him more connected to mortal lives than one would expect of a Great Old One.

#kashaw vesh #zahra hydris #cr meta #cr c1 #living up to my username #ask #anonymous

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yandere-dandelion · 2 years

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Okay, just here me out!

Yandere Iida upon realizing that his Darling gets depressive episodes that lead to them not eating, drinking, showering, brushing their teeth, changing clothes, and sometimes it takes threats of punishments to get them out of bed. I can struggle with stuff like this sometimes, and I do use some shortcuts (Putting the toothbrush in the shower so you can get it done all at once), but there are still days where I struggle. So how would Yandere Iida handle it?

YOOOO SAME HERE!!! That’s actually part of the reason I got into yandere stuff, bc I’m autistic + mentally ill, so I can’t do a lot of stuff myself so I fantasize about someone else taking control even tho it’d probably be infuriating irl. There’s a lot of other stuff too but that’s one of the big ones

Anyways, I hope you like this (:

TWs: ableism, yandere, depression

Before Iida was your yandere, he was your friend.

As a hero and as your friend, Iida saw it as his responsibility to help you, even if you didn’t ask for it, even if you told him not to.

And at first, Iida is a great helper! Always patient and accepting, always helping, sometimes inventing new ways for you to deal with the challenges of your disability.

He splits chores with you to make them easier and more manageable. You clean one part of the house, he’ll clean the rest. He’ll put the laundry in the wash, you put it in the dryer. He’ll do the shopping, you can help him cook. He’ll wash the dishes, you put them away. That way, the chores will actually get done, and you can be a little more active without getting overwhelmed by the tasks or spending too much energy.

He’ll come up with new ways to overcome the challenges of your disability— different ways to make life easier. Exercises you can do without getting out of bed, breaking down tasks into smaller chunks, creating scripts for phone calls, dry shampoo and conditioner, toothpaste tablets, automated and voice activated gadgets so you don’t have to move, things like that.

But you’re never obligated to do anything. He understands how hard it can be to live with a disability, he understands your limitations, and he’s willing to help however he can. He WANTS to help.

Basically, Iida is the best helper you could ask for.

Gradually, though, he gets more overbearing, to the point where he spends more time in your home than in his.

When he’s away, he gets anxious. What if you need him and he’s not there? You can’t take care of yourself without him. You can’t take care of yourself, period.

Eventually, Iida starts sleeping on your couch, then in your room, then in your bed with you, because he wants to be there in case you need him and because he needs to be close to you.

He takes over all the chores and insists that you never leave the house because it’ll undoubtedly be too difficult for you. He starts changing your clothes himself, manipulating your body like a doll. He carries you everywhere, even to the bathroom. He bathes you. He brushes your teeth. He does everything.

And because you’re not allowed to do anything for yourself, your sickness gets worse. And since your sickness gets worse, he can take care of you even more!

If you protest, he ignores you. You must not want to burden him, you’re probably unused to being cared for like this, you just don’t know what’s good for you.

Instead of kidnapping you and locking you in his own house, he moves into yours and refuses to leave or let you out.

Iida wouldn’t threaten punishment except as a last resort because even though he’s a yandere, he’s compassionate and doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants you to get better! He wants you to be happy!

A few snapshots of this universe:

If you didn’t tell him about it-

“How did you even find out about my sickness?”

“I wasn’t stalking you!”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Actually nah he’d probably feel too bad about lying to you. He’d just change the subject and refuse to answer the question.

•••

“Don’t you think this is a little too much? I appreciate the help, but I don’t need you to stay here all the time.”

“It’s okay, you’re not a burden to me at all!”

•••

“Please go home, you haven’t left for days and you’re honestly creeping me out.”

“Poor thing, you’re just not used to being cared for. It’s okay, you’ll learn to love it.”

•••

“Let me out! I don’t want or need your help, you creep!”

“You’re just scared that I’ll leave and you’re trying to push me away before that happens. It’s okay, I won’t ever leave you.”

#yandere bnha #yandere iida #my writing #green warning

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69misato69 · 10 months

Text

wither ✦ kaeya x childe, 3.6k

archive of our own ✦ twitter ✦ masterlist

flower-picking gone horribly wrong

c: afab childe amab kaeya he/him prns for both, lots and lots of crying, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, vaginal fingering, sex pollen (verbal consent)

top kaeya 🦚 x bottom childe 🐳 — enjoy!

“Just tell me what you were doing so I can help, Tartaglia.” Albedo sighs.

He’s getting tired of trying to draw out answers from Childe who’s shivering on the couch and still too reluctant to spit it out after almost half an hour.

“I was… picking flowers for Kaeya, okay? Happy?” he eventually blurts out.

Kaeya gazes down on his lap with a chuckle, “Well, kind of.”

Childe’s cheeks turn even redder than before, he’s awfully embarrassed to lay in front of Kaeya and Albedo while trying to suppress his undying arousal. It clouds up his mind, drives him insane. How can he carry out a conversation being the only person in the room that actually knows how he wets his own thighs inexplicably.

“Then I reached for a Cecilia… I think. I don’t remember the rest. Something jumped out… maybe? I could be making it up. And when I woke up on the grass and the Cecilia was gone.”

That is the full story, except Childe conveniently leaves out how he was soaking wet inside his pants until he dragged himself to the Winery and collapsed on the doorway.

Albedo hums, “Fever, shivers, fatigue, mouth feels dry, you said. Anything else?”

Nope, nothing else.

Except of course, he can’t even look across to the sofa Kaeya sits at without wanting to climb over him and rip him to pieces.

“It’s pollen season for many plants, especially around Starsnatch Cliff. So I feel obligated to ask if you feel aroused?” Albedo abruptly raises the question he fears.

Childe gasps, “Excuse me?”

“Sexual arousal, usually heightened when one ingests a cluster of potent pollen.”

“I’m a—human.”

“I am well aware. Hence, the ‘potent’ bit. If it is the influence of pollen, which is the case in my opinion since it has spread so quickly, it won’t leave you alone until you excrete it fully with bodily fluids. Mostly via urination, sweating and ejaculation.”

Childe’s legs twitch.

“Now, you can concentrate your efforts or wait for your body to rid itself of it over time, which could possibly take around a week, maybe longer. I have never seen a pollinated human before.” Albedo chuckles at his own remark.

Childe crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Fuck it out or suffer, is essentially the conclusion he presents.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. I wish you a speedy recovery, Tartaglia.”

Childe huffs as Kaeya sees him out and returns to the living room.

He takes Childe in his arms and climbs the stairs to their bedroom, laying him down carefully. The ice-pack Childe holds close to his chest is already losing its effect with how warm his body is.

Kaeya sits across from him with a caring and slightly concerned look.

“It’s okay if you want to wait it out. I’ll look after you.” he pets Childe’s hair lovingly, “But if you want to… Uh… You know… That’s okay too.”

‘If you want me to fuck you senselessly so that it passes, that’s also fine.’

Though, Kaeya is too polite and worried to phrase it as such.

“Whatever you need.” he tilts his head slightly, compassionate towards his beloved and annoyed that his hands are tied against this strange ailment.

Childe presses his legs together, “I—can’t take this for a week, Kaeya.”

He can’t even take it for a full day, it feels like he is about to combust, uttering a single word without whimpering is proving to be impossible when even the slight pressure of his own thighs over his clit drives him insane.

Kaeya nods, he gets down to work swiftly and removes Childe’s clothes.

“Do you need another ice-pack?” he stands by the bed, towering over his shriveled up boyfriend.

Childe is trembling on the mattress. Naked, vulnerable and exposed. He pulls Kaeya by his shirt to sit next to him.

“No, no… I just need you.” he rubs his cheek over Kaeya’s clothes, “Please, Kaeya.”

His attempts to climb over him prove futile as Kaeya presses him down by the chest.

“I’ll take care of it, okay? Try to relax.”

Childe nods, he snuggles close to him, separating his legs as one laps over Kaeya's thighs. The air hits his groin like a cold breeze, eliciting a hiss from his lips.

Kaeya holds him close, lips pressed against the top of his head to pepper soothing kisses while his hands roam the insides of his thighs.

Damp and soft, lust tears him asunder. He can’t focus on anything else but the hand that strokes his cunt gently. Just the tips of Kaeya’s fingers brushing against him, but it’s enough to have Childe panting and heaving.

Kaeya can’t help but moan at how wet he is, to the extent that it’s nearly impossible for him to create any friction. His fingers slide along Childe, up and down his glistening slit, but just as Kaeya prepares to slip one inside, Childe nuzzles into his chest with a muffled squeal.

“Did you just—”

Childe stays put, he revels in sheer shame. It’s embarrassing, being so out of control like an animal in heat. He doesn’t even want to peel his face away and look up.

Yet, at the same time, there’s nowhere he would rather be than in Kaeya’s arms as he battles a sensation terrifying enough to take his breath away.

Even when he’s so humiliatingly indulgent and depraved, Kaeya toying with him tenderly, trailing his nipples and scars, drawing circles over his tummy, overshadows his guilt and shame.

Soft fingers that brush against his entrance and then come up to lap over his swollen clit.

Childe disintegrates with every nerve ending he strikes. Soon he cums a second time, then maybe a third. It’s hard to tell where one ends and another begins.

His hips spasm, grinding down at the bed involuntarily.

Kaeya knows that he can’t last for however much this is going to take. He deems it more sensible to work him out a bit more before moving on.

But Childe is a lot more stubborn than usual, tugging on Kaeya’s arm, attempting to reach and stroke the erection that presses up against him.

“Come on, I’ve had enough.” he hisses. Vile and starved, burning up for more.

Kaeya is unfazed. He keeps it unattended, the sweetest spot that he wants to ram into for hours. His fingers slide in between Childe’s drenched folds, drawing out a squelch with every drag.

There isn’t a single ounce of energy left in Childe’s body, yet he continues to run his hands over Kaeya and try to persuade him. Eventually, he musters up the courage to pull away slightly and look up.

“Why won’t you—hah—fuck me?” he asks in desperation and confusion.

There’s nothing Kaeya wants more than to spread him over his cock, nevertheless it must wait. Kaeya certainly lacks the inhumane stamina to satisfy him without taking breaks with the way Childe looks at him, eyes veiled with a carnal desire to destroy and devour.

“I will, baby. In a bit, okay?”

Kaeya tries his best to soothe him but Childe only claws harder at his arm, until his expression turns innocent. He gazes up with kind, sparkling eyes. No longer crazed and hysterical as if he wasn't growling to be fucked merely a second ago.

Suddenly, his face is the only thing that lacks filth.

Half-lidded eyes that stare up at Kaeya, lips glazed with drool and rosy cheeks that match his body that’s caught up in flames of passion.

“I… I’ll be so good for you—please…” he begs.

The most obscene sight Kaeya has ever seen, indelicate and crude no matter how demure his expression is. He fights with all he’s got as Childe begs to be filled up, writhing and grabbing at whatever he can in utter frustration. Feisty and fussy unlike the Childe he knows.

He reaches down to hold Kaeya’s hand, fed up with the lack of stimulation, and separates three of his fingers to push them in deep.

Kaeya allows him to guide his hand as Childe looks up daringly.

“I know you want it—too.” he struggles to keep his eyes open and maintain the resolve to continue, “You’re worried for… after you finish, right?”

Kaeya can’t help but chuckle lightly as he pets his cheek, “Looks to me like it wouldn’t be enough.”

Childe keeps moving his hand in and out of himself with Kaeya matching the rhythm with an upward curl of his fingers every time they dig into his tight walls.

“Well, you’ve got a mouth, don’t you?”

An impertinent attempt as if Childe is exhausting all options one by one. If begging Kaeya won’t work, maybe riling him up will. He's willing to try anything, momentarily careless of how pathetic he must be coming off.

His cheeky question is answered with Kaeya separating his fingers inside of him, extending them so opposite sides right around his sweet spot. Childe’s hand falls away from his as he squeaks.

Then, Kaeya closes the gap, only to spread them again.

Childe crumbles with every scissoring motion of his fingers. He holds Kaeya’s face desperately, staring him in the eye. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as he coats Kaeya’s fingers with his hips spasming.

“Take care of me.” he demands.

Kaeya is sensible, especially when the situation calls for it. He performs well under pressure, but this — he’s not strong enough to resist this.

He’s weak against Childe’s pretty noises and his soaking wet pussy. Therefore, he abides, practically tearing away his own clothes to settle on top.

Childe reaches down, stroking his painfully hard cock zealously before guiding it inside.

Kaeya’s impatience grows simply by looking at his unchaste expression. He holds Childe by the knees and folds him in half, drilling him viciously.

Childe has no choice but to cover his mouth, abashed at the sounds he uncontrollably lets out, but Kaeya frees one of his knees and places his hands around his neck instead.

Childe cries out, squirming under him with shaky legs, unable to help himself as his walls clench around Kaeya.

But as much as he’s enjoying the view, Kaeya feels himself drawing dangerously near as well. So much pressure around his already aching cock and exquisite warmth surrounding it.

He slips out and sits at the edge of the bed to pull Childe onto his lap.

His body is limp and weary, leaning on Kaeya’s chest as he sinks down on him.

Kaeya holds him by the hips and guides them in circles, reaching into every neglected spot inside to fill him up to the brim.

Childe moans into his mouth as the thrusts deepen, his hands roam Kaeya’s body aimlessly, attempting to reel him in even though they are chest to chest, as close as humanly possible with the way Kaeya buries himself in his walls.

Childe wants to absorb him into his skin. No matter how good it feels, it never seems to be enough. Before he can fully enjoy one orgasm, he feels another creep up from between his legs. He feels dizzy with the amount of cum flushing out of him, spilling all over Kaeya. It feels impossible but Childe feels it shoot out continuously right where he wracks against.

A few final thrusts as Kaeya tries to delay it as much as he can, he pushes Childe all the way down and stuffs him generously.

Childe chokes, warmth overtakes his insides, a blissful yet short few moments pass until his neediness grows again. He slides off with a sharp hiss.

“Again—Kaeya. Please… I need—” Childe palms over his spent cock desperately, but it’s no use. Kaeya dwindles under his hold.

He needs more.

Kaeya’s seed leaks out of him, mixed with his own. Even warmer than before, it paints Kaeya’s thigh white. Childe has no choice but to sit and wait, which is probably for the best since his legs are shaking uncontrollably.

Though, Childe can’t help but hiss as he settles over his right leg.

His folds spread over Kaeya’s toned thigh as pressure builds over his clit. He lifts his lips ever so slightly before sinking back down. His mouth is parted, gaze directed down in between their bodies.

Kaeya watches silently how Childe slides back and forth on his thigh, soft sighs leave his lips with each round.

He looks up at Kaeya as if he’s struck gold. It’s gentle and subtle, yet enough to send a shockwave to every single nerve ending. Though, an apologetic look takes over his face as soon as he realizes what he’s doing. Deviant and perverse, it's far from how he wants to be perceived by Kaeya.

Fortunately, he doesn't. Kaeya cups his cheek reassuringly. “Go ahead, my love.” he coos, hoping to rid him of guilt. Hoping that Childe knows that there isn’t anything to be ashamed of, that he has no issues attending to him.

Anything for his beloved Ajax.

“Think you can cum like that?” he asks softly.

Childe nods, he looks too stunned to speak, in trance almost. Pleasure overwhelms him, Kaeya’s gentle tone and his hands that hold him in place, it’s bad for Childe’s heart and even worse for his drained yet greedy cunt.

“Show me.” Kaeya whispers against his lips.

Childe begins to move faster, sliding along his leg with whimpers.

“Kaeya…” his voice cracks. Depraved and exhausted.

Kaeya presses a kiss on his lips, “I’m right here.”

“Kaeya…”

“I know, baby, I’ve got you.” Kaeya subdues his worries, “You’re doing so well.”

Childe chokes on air as he holds onto him for dear life, the only thing powerful enough to anchor him.

Warmth and safety, loving touches and soft locks tangled in between Childe’s fingers.

“I’ll fuck you again.” Kaeya drags his tongue along his neck.

“And again.”

Lewd moans ring in his ears — “Until it’s enough. Don’t you worry.”

Kaeya, still not having figured out the nuances of Childe's headspace, refrains from telling him how pathetic he looks. How hauntingly desperate he sounds while humping his leg.

So needy and sensitive that he's cumming over and over just from Kaeya's thigh.

A mess, his mess.

A mess that he loves putting back together only to scatter him over the sheets again.

Kaeya's heart skips a beat with every plea, every twitch of Childe's delicate hips as he releases yet another time, he wants Childe sobbing on his cock until the morning. Until he's too drained to function so he just lays next to Kaeya and waits politely to be cleaned off and cuddled to sleep.

Kaeya can no longer see this as a remedy to cure Childe's affliction, not when Childe leaks uncontrollably all over him. Generous yet needy, willing to give it his all so long as it’s reciprocated.

Kaeya lifts his hips upon realizing that he's hard again. Childe's chest heaves with excitement, his eyes are ablaze with pure hunger, as if he'll die if he has to spend another second without Kaeya driving into his cervix.

Fortunately he doesn't have to wait any longer as the tip of his cock slides through with ease.

Slippery and soft, his gummy walls reel him in as Kaeya pushes him down by the hips.

“Perfect… Such a good boy.” Kaeya praises, working diligently to keep Childe alert as his eyes begin to close.

“Stay with me. Okay, Ajax?” he holds Childe’s chin in a firm grasp as he snaps out of the haze.

“Let me see that pretty face.” Kaeya smiles at him.

There isn’t a single thought in his head, mind completely hollowed out.

“Can you—lay me down?” he mumbles, guilt and exhaustion washes over him once again as Kaeya gently lays his head on the pillow.

His movements are now more restrained, fighting the urge to wreck him ruthlessly. Childe appears more fragile as a portion of the high wears off and he can’t help but blame himself.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, Kaeya. It was so—hngh—reckless of me.”

“I don’t need an apology.” Kaeya leaves a gentle peck on his lips, “Not when you look so precious shaking under me.” he coos, and it’s enough to get Childe’s eyes to darken again. He sways between guilt and pleasure. His lips either carve a frown, or part to moan Kaeya’s name.

“I’m doing my best not to hurt you, but know that it’s taking all I’ve got.” Kaeya speaks into his ear, digging his nails into Childe’s hips with the strain of holding back his own.

“I can—handle it.”

Childe doesn’t know if he can, but he is in no position to mind it.

Even if it means passing out in the middle of it, he needs Kaeya to pound him into the mattress, to handle him as he sees fit.

And Kaeya happily obliges. He turns Childe on his stomach with one smooth maneuver and quickly slides back inside him. Childe is already screaming at the new angle, his walls tighten around Kaeya deliciously, sucking him in like he wants to be ripped apart.

Kaeya leans forward with a grunt and binds his wrists together on his back with one hand. With nothing to provide proper balance, Childe sinks down on the bed, only his hips are held afloat by Kaeya’s grip.

His face digs into the pillow and Kaeya slams into him mercilessly.

Minutes pass yet his high never ceases. He has no control over even a single muscle as they all contract for Kaeya.

He releases relentlessly, intense enough to have him crying over the fabric and soaking in his own tears. A sensation that leaves him breathless and ruined.

Kaeya leans over him as his weight further crushes Childe. His teeth sink into the sensitive skin of his back, bite marks now scattered all over Childe’s waist and hips.

Marks of the one he belongs to.

Childe knows that it’ll send a tingle down his spine when he stares at them in the mirror the following morning.

Kaeya pulls away, but the aftershock is enough to keep him going for a few more, short-lived orgasms.

He lands on his back, the pattern of the cloth has permeated his puffy cheeks while Kaeya gazes down on him hungrily.

He settles between Childe’s thighs, not wasting another second before dragging his tongue along his puffy slit.

“Kaeya!” Childe gasps and jolts up. He bursts into tears of pleasure as soft lips engulf his clit, sucking on it gently and moving in circles. Kaeya looks up and meets his gaze. His eyes stay locked on Childe’s tearful and reddened ones as he moves down and slips his tongue inside.

Childe looks beautiful, crying and screaming for it. Kaeya has never seen him so unhinged. His face glows bright, wet with tears.

Albedo hasn't explicitly suggested crying, but with the way he sobs Kaeya definitely thinks it's helping to some extent.

Incoherent words and wails leave Childe’s mouth. If only he had the energy to flip Kaeya on his back, sit on his face and ride him until the morning — until Kaeya’s belly was full of his cum, until he was out of breath with a foggy mind just like his own.

He reaches down to grab him by the hair and guides his lips and tongue.

Liquid seeping into Kaeya's mouth as it does now, it is unprecedented. Except for rare instances in which Childe could squirt, but that was very seldom, not in an overflowing, mind-bending amount such as this.

This is more like — Kaeya sucking his cock, choking and gagging as Childe rocks him by his hair rhythmically. Releasing loads of cum down his throat and painting his pretty mouth white.

It's perfect.

"Keep going." he melts into the sheets.

Kaeya can tell exactly what he’s thinking, because he feels it too.

It doesn’t feel so much as eating him out anymore, he's — blowing Childe, somehow. Lips stretched over him while drinking up all that Childe graces him with.

Warmth travels down his throat, Kaeya can hardly breathe, but it doesn't matter.

What matters is the taste on his tongue and the soft thighs pressing up against his face.

He wants to sink his teeth into his legs, latch onto all there is and abuse it with his tongue and lips, he wants to swallow Childe whole. He needs all of him.

However, there's no time for any of that as long as Childe aches for him, as long as his quivering hole yearns to be touched, licked and fucked by Kaeya until he’s ridden of the fire that burns between his legs.

There is no room for stalling or detours. Like feeding an insatiable monster, Kaeya tends to him lustfully, sucking him dry until the intervals between his orgasms begin to lengthen.

“Last one… I think.” Childe breathes out eventually, after a few hours that have felt like forever. The mist eclipsing his mind slowly clears up, yet drowsiness remains from all that his body went through.

Kaeya pulls away and hovers over his spent boyfriend.

“Better make it count then, hm?” he smiles. And Childe smiles back, like an absolute idiot. Euphoric and blissful, he clings onto Kaeya’s shoulders and spreads his legs, allowing him to enter for hopefully the last time, at least for now.

As the effect of the pollen fades, a stinging sensation penetrates his abused hole. He hisses in between kisses while Kaeya slows down. He thrusts in gently and slips a hand in between their bodies to stroke Childe’s clit.

A spark lights up in the pit of his stomach, building up gradually until he squeezes Kaeya once more.

With that, Kaeya has no choice but to let himself go as well, releasing inside him with a growl that vibrates along Childe’s rib cage.

hope you enjoyed! take care (:

#kaeya x childe #chaeya #ao3fic #genshin fanfiction #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin kaeya

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