#I’m constantly trying to undo all that and it’s exhausting and no one gets how much effort that takes and I can’t tell them either
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“Don't you ever get tired, boss?” You ask, peering over Unknown's shoulder at his screen.
He turns around to scowl at you. Yes, of course he gets fucking tired. That's by no means something he's proud of, and it's by no means something he wants to hear you prattling on about. Unknown has discovered that he likes having you around— it's nice to have someone to talk to, and even better that you're usually able to entertain him, at least to some degree— but he could do without the constant questions. You always want to know what he's working on (which is classified), what you can do to help (nothing whatsoever, unless you're sitting on a bunch of useful skills that have somehow managed to escape Unknown’s notice thus far), and, worst of all, how he's feeling (which is none of your goddamn business, actually). Unknown has no interest in anything even remotely resembling a conversation about emotions with you, let alone one about his physical state.
“Hm,” he says eventually, not caring how you interpret the sound. It's none of his business how you interpret things, at least as long as you're keeping those interpretations to yourself and staying out of trouble.
“Then you should sleep,” you suggest, “I'm sure that it'll help you work better.”
“Oh, is that so?” Unknown hums, still not looking up from his screen— truth be told, he's barely listening to you. He couldn't care less what you think about his methods, though that certainly doesn't stop you from peppering him with moral qualms and concerns about his health under these working conditions— as if Unknown has any control over that, anyway. Why do you want to make him feel so powerless? Can't you just stay securely under his thumb and let him go about his business?
“Yeah,” you reply, “It is. If you're tired, you should sleep. That’s kind of, like, basic knowledge 101, you know?”
“I can't sleep, prince(ss),” Unknown grits out. He’s annoyed that this is even a discussion.
“Oh, you mean you can’t fall asleep?” You ask, probably trying to be helpful. Normally, Unknown wouldn't give a shit about anybody's intentions but his own or his Savior's... however, lately, he's begun to pick up on the fact that people can mean very well while somehow managing to remain insufferably annoying. He wouldn't have thought that this combination was possible until he met you— you should be proud of yourself, Unknown supposes, though not too proud— that would be a bit much. “Then that might be because of all the monitors. Maybe you’d be able to rest better if you turned a couple of them off.”
“No,” he growls before you can give him another useless suggestion. Just because Unknown understands your motivations doesn't mean he's going to entertain any more nonsense from you. After all, he's your boss, not your friend— and honestly, boss isn't the term he originally would have selected, but it would be too much of a hassle to change anything now that you seem married to the idea. “I can't sleep unless that redhead sleeps, get it? He’ll attack and undo all my progress while I’m wasting time in dreamland.” And if that redhead is sleeping, then Unknown isn't going to sleep, either, because it'll give him an opportunity to get a leg up. If he rests only when his exhaustible body forces him to do so, then eventually, he’ll arrive at his revenge.
“Well, if you're not sleeping, I'm not sleeping,” you declare, “And if you think I'm annoying now, you're just gonna love me when I'm sleep deprived.”
Unknown rolls his eyes at your sheer audacity. “Aw, do you think you're being clever?” He coos. “You can't control me that easily, assistant.” Lately, Unknown has gotten into the habit of calling you by your title as if it were a pet name of some kind. He likes the reaction that it gets from you, though he doesn’t understand it— if you’re so proud to be his assistant, then why do you constantly question him? Can’t you just leave well enough alone?
“I’m just showing you how ridiculous and stubborn you’re being, boss. What are you gonna do about it?” You ask.
You’re challenging him, trusting that he’ll humor you as you test him in a vain attempt to prove a really useless point. Unknown isn’t sure why you couldn’t have applied this determination to chatting with the RFA, or at least going into that apartment. Maybe you would have been happier there, with people who would accept and embrace your affection and concern. But there’s no point in thinking about that now— you’re stuck with Unknown, and for all intents and purposes, he is equally stuck with you.
Unknown just rolls his eyes at you again. Honestly, maybe he is starting to get tired, if you've managed to get under his skin so easily— but it doesn't matter whether he's tired or not. Unknown will get his work done regardless of his physical condition, and you should get that through your head as soon as possible. “You're gonna go lay down on the couch and shut your mouth,” he intones, “Or else I'll send you to your room, and you can stay there alone. How does that sound, cutie?”
Even if you insist on staying awake to prove some useless point to him, eventually, you’ll drift off if you’re laying there not doing anything. That way, Unknown won’t have to worry about you while he’s working— of course, he isn’t at all concerned with your well being, he reminds himself. He just doesn’t want to have to waste time thinking about what kind of trouble you might be causing behind the scenes.
“Wow, so cruel,” you pretend to lament with a pouting expression as you throw yourself onto the couch. You’re just joking, of course— you don’t actually think that about him. If you did, you wouldn't be able to say it so flippantly. You’re convinced that he’s a good person somewhere deep down, but Unknown might very well be cruel— no, scratch that. He knows for a fact that he's a bad guy to his core, a monster in every sense of the word. Unknown is by no means a nice person, but he knows how to get what he wants. That’s got to count for something, right? “But just promise me you’ll rest eventually, okay?” Your concern is evident in your voice, even if you try to hide it behind that playful tone.
“Mhm. Maybe I’ll be able to rest when my assistant isn’t causing me so many problems,” he hums. It’s best to just humor you, to keep you from wasting time worrying when you could be helping Unknown with his revenge. Besides, he’s not even really lying— he’ll have to sleep eventually. No matter how many times he pushes his body to its limits, it never seems to get any stronger or better at staying awake when he needs it to. “But if you want to stay with me, then you should start being quiet now.”
You don't respond, and for his part, Unknown counts it as a win.
#I've been thinking a lot lately about Unknown's relationship with rest#And how profoundly difficult it would be to convince him to take care of himself at all#mystic messenger#mystic messenger drabble#choi saeran#saeran choi#unknown mystic messenger
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People who are used to being thought of as “normal” often glamourize “not normal.”
“It must be so freeing.”
“I love how your brain works.”
“That’s so cool, I wish I could do that.”
You don’t understand. People have been telling me I’m “not normal” since I was born.
I’m multiracial, so right off the bat, I was different from the other kids. No matter where I was. I’m a foreigner in every country. I don’t belong anywhere.
“Yeah, but you’re special! You stand out!”
Do you know how exhausting it is to stand out every time you leave your house? Do you know how many times strangers have demanded to know why I look different? And do you know how much it sucks to constantly be praised for being able to speak my first language?
All throughout my school years, teachers told my parents I was different. I was highly gifted, unusually intelligent, full of potential. When I took math tests and had to show my work, my math teachers would be dumbfounded because I solved problems in my own ways, completely differently from what they taught us. On standardized tests, I was always in the 99th percentile. Classmates would submit their homework to me to get it checked before submitting it to our teachers. I was called a walking encyclopedia, a cyborg, and even a term that basically meant “mafia lieutenant.” I was regularly discounted from class surveys for being an anomaly and teachers told students not to compare themselves to me because I “didn’t count.” Everyone in my life defined me by how “not normal” I was.
That prompted the masking. I spent years and years desperately trying to hide my authentic self. I manufactured my outward appearance by scripting what I would say, rehearsing my behaviour, and actively suppressing the most objectionable aspects of my individuality. But every time I got comfortable around someone and let bits of my true self show, I was seen as a novelty. At best, I felt like a museum exhibit. At worst, I felt like a shackled circus sideshow. I was never just another person. No one felt the need to recognize my humanity.
Over the last few years, I’ve been fighting hard to undo the damage of masking for so long. I have friends who accept me for who I am, even if they don’t quite understand. I’ve had romantic relationships, and a few people have even been in love with me. I’m still “not normal,” though, and thought it would always be that way.
Then something happened. I met someone, someone who identifies as “normal,” and seems it, at first. But I started noticing something bizarre. He can finish my sentences. He isn’t surprised or caught off-guard by me. I’ve never had to explain my thought process to him. My own mother has to ask me what I’m talking about all the time, but he just gets it. He’s never called me “special.” He doesn’t laugh at the way I act. He doesn’t point out when I do something others would think of as outrageous. And, for the first time in my life, I get to feel “normal.”
Imagine living your entire life breathing smog and secondhand smoke. Then one day, someone drives you up to the mountains in the middle of nowhere and you breathe fresh air for the first time. Your reaction is probably along the lines of:
“What the FUCK is this? Do other people know about this?? …They do? …Wait, some people get to experience this all the time?”
You find out not only that there are people who have never had to breathe smog, but that you were missing out on fresh air without even knowing it.
He’s my fresh air.
Unfortunately, he’s not interested in me, so my lungs are still full of smog.
But why, you ask, does feeling “normal” feel good?
Being “not normal” means you are constantly justifying, rationalizing, defending, and explaining yourself.
I just want to breathe.
#normal#not normal#neurotypical#neurodivergent#multicultural#third culture kid#hapa#masking#auDHD#gifted kid#love#relationships
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Personal: Argh!
I really don't do well with constant interruptions. The thing this week where I'm not allowed to just do a thing for a while be it sleep, internet stuff, lung treatments or sleep is really fucking me up. I can;t get in the flow of anything. It screws up my concentration. It takes ages to get back to sleep every time someone insists on waking me up.
Thursday was supposed to be a rest day. The interruption on sleep was good and important. A friend I hadn't heard from since before the pandemic survived and was checking in. Like I am not angry about it. I was also exhausted and had had less than four hours sleep and between the length of the call and the time it took to get back to sleep that's about three hours mid sleep cycle. I get why the pharmacy needs to call me all the time. It is definitely worth it to periodically stop what I'm doing to pet a cat for however long they need a pet. And there's things like the money surprise today which was a massive disruption. I keep needing to stop and solve small problems.
This is the least disrupted day all week by a lot. For example people didn't keep needing to talk to me or chat with me or ping me or phone me. (I don't know how people manage with cellphones constantly interrupting them). I didn't have any emergency errands I had to stop what I was doing and drive around for. I had to do yet more annoying computer stuff with the increasingly less functional tumblr interface, but it wasn't hours of it. There were several nights where I'd have to kick minimize the browser, lift Tavy for cuddles, cuddle Tavy for a while, get clawed as he climbed all over me, help him down when he’s done, fix whatever he did on the computer, try to remember what I was doing. maybe do one link, minimize browser, nudge Tavy off the computer, undo the damage while he flings kibbles at me, open the browser, try to remember what I was doing, maybe click three times if I'm lucky, minimize browser, rinse and repeat for a couple of hours until he ate and had a nap. So I guess this is technically more restful?
I can't concentrate under these conditions and it is making me really cranky.
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𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 — mason mount
summary: after your breakup, mason realises just how much you need him. and how much he needs you too.
warnings: mentions of drinking, slight mentions of drugs, swearing, angst
requests are open!
It had been a month since your breakup, and you were at an all time low. But you couldn’t let Mason or anyone else know that. Luckily, you lived alone. So you had your own flat to mope about in, before painting on your fake smile and leaving for whatever errands you had that day. Your breakup was… unfair. Mason treated you like a toy, thinking he could just drop you and then pick you up just as quick. But you weren’t having it anymore.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” you laughed in disbelief at the words your boyfriend was spewing, “you’re really doing this to me, again?” Mason just stood with a stone cold face in front of you, in the comfort of his own living room.
“Y/N, believe me when I say I didn’t want to do this.” Mason consoled, taking a step forward. “You’re a distraction to my career, I barely see you. What would be the point of this anymore?” His words were like bullets, your chest full of holes and you were bleeding on the floor. But Mason was just staring back at you.
“I’m a distraction to your career. Lovely.” You mentioned, pushing past him and grabbing your bag from the stairs. Mason tried to stop you, he wanted to talk this out. “For the love of God, stop trying to hold me back. What is there to say? Or do you just want to ease your conscience? If you’re going to break up with me, be a man and own it. Leave me alone.”
With that you left, and you hadn’t spoken since.
You were going to meet a good friend for lunch, a WAG, but your breakup with Mason didn’t affect your friendship. She was adamant on it, saying, “just because Mason dumped your fine ass, doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with you. He’ll just have to deal with it.” You’d gone to your usual place, waiting in the foyer for her before booking a table together.
“How’ve you been, doll?” Abigail asked, putting her bag down beside her. “You know, considering.” You nodded, putting your fake smile to good use.
You let out a small giggle. “Good, yeah. I’ve been focusing on my work, which I should’ve been doing from the jump. I think I’m really making progress.” Abigail just nodded and smiled.
She didn’t seem the least bit frightened to say what she said, as she’d heard how you felt. “Good, because you’re coming to a party this weekend.”
“What?”
“A party.”
“Yeah I heard you,” you groaned, “are we sixteen- years old? Or am I just growing quicker than the rest of you?”
“Oh shh,” Abigail sighed, digging into her food that had now arrived with yours. Every time you came here, she got the carbonara. “Look, you said you’re making progress, and I want to have fun with my best friend again. And if I’m honest, all the other girls just aren’t as good of a laugh as you.”
“Thanks for the ego boost.” You added, smiling a genuine smile at her. You were still thinking heavily about this party, where was it? When was it? Who was going?
“Clear your weekend. It’s this Saturday, at some private lounge in London.” Abigail stated, twirling her fork once again. “It’s the England squad celebrating something or another, I don’t know. Dec told me about it.” The reason the pair of you were so close, was mainly because of your boyfriends being so close. Declan knew that his girlfriend was still friends with you and planned on keeping that, he’d always ask about you.
“Right. I’ll see if I can work overtime on Thursday to make up for my weekend off.” You mentioned.
So it was settled. You’d be going to a party with Abigail and the England squad. You weren’t the least bit excited, the only fraction you were was purely because you’d be seeing Abigail. You had your dress, you’d worked your overtime, and you were on your way to this private lounge in London. No matter how nice looking this lounge was, you’d always feel out of place. You were wearing your nicest dress, tallest heels, and Abigail had even done your hair and makeup.
“How are you, Y/N? You doing okay?” Declan asked, in the seat beside Abigail. You were sharing a taxi, Abi in the middle. Both you and Dec on either end. It was quite awkward, to see Declan. To know that he still speaks to Mason.
“Yeah, I’m doing good. How’s football going for you?” You asked. You despised small talk, it make you want to throw up. But it was only being polite to Dec. Declan mumbled a similar answer and paid attention to his phone. A text from Abigail appeared.
I don’t think she’s okay.
Declan wrote back to his girlfriend: I was thinking the same thing.
The three had gotten to the private lounge, Abi promising to not leave your side. You spent the first hour with her, constantly drinking to increase your confidence. Abi had finally left you, like you knew she would, but you weren’t mad. She’s here for her boyfriend, it’s only right she spends it with him. So now you were the loner at the bar, downing shot after shot.
Mason was sulking around like a shadow, holding tightly onto his mixer and speaking to some of his teammates. He’s not even sure why he came, all he knew was Declan forced him. And yet Declan had barely spoke to to him all evening. His mixer was empty, so he made his third beeline for the bar this evening. And saw you.
His heart had began beating irregularly, clammy hands almost dropping the cup he had. Why was he so nervous to see the ex he dumped? Luckily, you were occupied with talking to Jesse, so he could quickly grab his drink and leave. He found himself staring at you during his wait, how you laughed so genuinely with Jesse. You always did. He was one of your closest friends and now talking to him felt awkward because of your breakup. You looked at Jesse so happily, he wished it was him. It was a stupid thing to wish, considering he dumped you.
What had dumping you even done for him?
“Mount. Whatever the hell has happened to you outside of training, undo it. You’re off today.”
“Mase, why haven’t you been as on par as you usually are?”
“You keep playing like this and you’re being benched next game.”
Nothing. The answer was nothing. He was told he wasn’t playing well, saw you as an issue and dumped you. And now he plays worse. He’d been benched on his second game, overlooked by his manager due to his lack of focus in training. It was horrible. But you told him to leave you alone, he could never forget the look on your face. The look of exhaustion, of being dumped and picked back up again.
Mason had zoned back in, seeing you looking at him rather lazily. You looked drunk, high, or both. Jesse had gone, and you were throwing the shots back. You made it a game. Every time you had a good Mason thought, you’d have a shot. If it was bad, or any thought at all, you’d be having your stomach pumped by the end of the night.
Mason watched the bartender pour straight vodka into your cup, and then watched you stagger away to the stairs. The stairs led up to toilets, and were empty and quiet. Perfect. You collapsed onto the stairs, still sipping on your vodka before laying your head onto a step. You didn’t know Mason had followed you until you felt his hands on your arms.
“Come on, we’re going home.” He declared, holding you around your waist. You frowned at him, trying your best to use your half-working limbs to push him away from you.
“We’re? No, you are going home. I’m staying here.” You slurred, downing the rest of your drink and throwing the cup at his head. You laughed at the face he made, finally freeing you and you returned to your seat on the stairs. “You aren’t my dad, or my boss, or my friend. So leave me alone.”
“You’re off your face. So you’re going home.” He reaffirmed with you, folding his arms. You just shook your head again, looking up at him. You were having good Mason thoughts again, seeing just his face stare down at you. It made you want to cry and throw up.
“Get me a drink.” Mason left after your instructions, returning with a cup. You had downed it, waiting for the warm throat and slight burn. But nothing. “Not water, you asshole.” Mason kept a stone cold face with you, resting against the wall beside the door. Nobody had come into the toilet and you wished they had now. You needed someone to save you from happy Mason thoughts.
“So how is football? You must be scoring goals left and right.” You jested, tipping your head back and laughing. “Right?” Mason sat down beside you in defeat, knowing this wouldn’t be an easy conversation with you. It would end in you crying, or leaving, or both.
“No, actually.” Mason admitted. “I’m doing rubbish. My friends know I’m off my game, the gaffer knows I’m off my game. It’s atrocious.” You stared at him, kind of feeling bad but then remembering what he did to you. All those times he’d break up with you, just to say he missed you a few days later. If you were being honest with yourself, you thought it would happen again. But a month had passed, and nothing.
“Oh.” It was all you could say. Knowing what he did was for no reason, it had no benefits whatsoever. Your life had been completely thrown out of balance for nothing. It made you mad all over again. “So you’re telling me you broke up with me, and nothing good came of it?”
Mason hated to admit it. “Yes.” He spoke quietly, ashamed of the answer he was putting out there. “I was actually told to fix whatever happened outside of training, in an effort to make me better again.” You should be laughing in his face, glad he’s been royally fucked over after he royally fucked you over. But instead, you held your hands to your face to hide your tears.
“Hey,” Mason hushed, pulling you into his side. He knew you’d had a lot to drink, so maybe your emotions were all over the place, “don’t cry about it, you don’t need to be upset.” Why was he being like this? He broke up with you, why did he care how you were now?
“What’s happened to us?” You cried, pulling away from him. Just because you were at a low, doesn’t mean he can swoop in. “Ever since we broke up, it seems our lives have been shit.”
Mason laughed through the pain, resting his elbows on the step behind him. He’d tried to avoid his feelings instead of confront them, but it proved difficult when you had showed up. “I might be benched for the next game, or better yet, be taken from the squad.”
You shook your head. No matter how much you hated him at this very point, you couldn’t deny the man’s talent. “You deserve that spot on the team. There’s a reason you start for England every time. Don’t doubt yourself because something bad happened to you.”
Mason took your words and remembered them, keeping them in his head for the rest of the night. “Come here.” He put an arm around you and held you tight, sighing as your heads rested together. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I shouldn’t have left you, I had issues with myself and saw you as the problem instead. I’m really sorry.”
“I just don’t think I can take it again.” You confessed, laying your head in his lap and keeping your eyes closed. “I can’t take being broken up with again, only for you to end up in my bed a few days later. It hurts me everytime, Mase.” Mason was rubbing your back, hating himself for the way he made you feel before. And he hadn’t seen an issue with it, he treated you like it was okay to use you as an emotional rag doll.
“You don’t have to jump straight into it,” he whispered, hands now smoothing your hair out of your face, “you can take as long as you need to trust me again. But I’m telling you it’ll never happen again, I’ll never throw you about like I did before. It was reckless of me and I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Mase.” You sighed, the weight finally freeing your chest. You could finally move forward with your life, and choose whether or not to take Mason with you. It wasn’t an answer you needed to know now, it could take it’s time. And Mason was willing to wait.
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new fic😁 it‘s based off that one matt maltese song. you know the one. science party. everybody talks about dying and stuff.
copy pasted from beginning note: tw for allusions to suicide—technically they just give up and let the robots kill them (not depicted, just alluded to) and all of the emotional baggage that comes with that. tread carefully!
ao3
It took Scout twenty-six hours to come back, this time. Medic kept count. The wave stopped about twelve hours ago—they don’t have much time left until the next one, maybe. It’s never consistent. Sometimes it’s three hours and sometimes they get a week.
Engineer sits out on the roof, fingers intertwined with Medic’s, watching the stars. Scout came out of the respawn room red-faced and panting—he said he didn’t think he was gonna come back and kept sobbing about it, and then he collapsed on the tile. Medic deemed it exhaustion. While Scout got tended to Engie went down the stairs into the bowels of the respawn machine and found the little display and punched in the password and then it was off. When he walked back out Spy was there, waiting.
He said I can’t believe you of all people gave up this soon, and Engie didn’t know entirely what to say back to this, so he slapped Spy on the back and said it was a long way coming. I’m telling the team right now. And Spy looked over invisible glasses, frowned. Said nothing. Can never tell if the bastard’s disapproving of you or not.
Medic’s tired. He’s always tired, but now it’s visible in the lines on his face, the way his normally steel-bar posture faults and bends. He’s not happy about this—no one really is. Engie squeezes his wrist and Medic slowly wraps his arm around his shoulders, squeezing, and then brings him halfway onto his lap, sighing, still humming and muttering incomprehensible half-English under his breath. Never completely silent, even now. Drives his teammates to hell and back but Dell always found it endearing—always going, always always, even as the world caves in. Now it sorta makes his heart ache. He doesn’t want to think about it too much.
“It’s unfair,” Medic says, mumbling raising to normal speaking, and Dell looks up at his face, pecks him on the chin. “I think we should have gotten more time. It’s not fair.”
“It ain’t. It’s really not.”
“Are you…” Medic’s breath hitches, and he squeezes Engie a little tighter. “Are you sure we can’t keep fighting? Maybe we could… just…”
“I… I wish we could.” How to say this? Confound it—goddamn the end of everything has to be so hard. “We didn’t think Scout was gonna come back, and I don’t… really wanna do that a second time. I… think if we die it… better be with the whole team. Feels right.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I don’t either,” Engie says, “but… look. You remember the time we all thought we had tumors, right? With the bread ‘n stuff.”
“Of course.”
“And we spent the whole damn time trying to figure out how to undo it.”
Medic grunts, repetitively patting Engie’s shoulder. “We did figure it out—it wasn’t even a problem in the first place. Bread got the tumors, we didn’t.”
“But we only got that, like, three hours ‘fore we were supposed to die. That took us seventy hours, Doc. Just about all the time we had left. Spent the whole damn time trying to fix things we didn’t get to slow down and enjoy anything.”
“We lived. It’s important we tried to cure it.”
“Well—with this. Don’t you think we already tried enough?”
Medic hesitates.
“The answer’s a yes, by the way. Spent the last two years fighting my ass off constantly scared a buncha robots are gonna show up an’ end it. I’m just tired, Doc. I’m sorry. I wish I could—I wish it were worth it to keep going. But we ain’t living, not really.”
“I just wish we had more time.”
“We all do,” Engie says, and he sighs and he sinks into Doc and looks up at the stars. “I’m sorry. I think it’s better if we die we die together. Go out on our own terms, y’know.”
“Are we even going to fight it?”
“… I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay.”
Engie reaches around Medic, takes his beer where it was resting against his back. It’s warm. It’s really nice outside, actually—all things considered. Perfectly clear, a little humid but not unmanageable. He polishes off the last of it and throws the bottle off the roof, hears it shatter on the ground. Normally he wouldn’t litter, but… well, it ain’t normal. He supposes it never will be again.
“I wish we knew how long we had left,” Medic says, quietly, looking at his lap.
“Well, we just gotta make every moment count, don’t we?” Already been twelve hours, maybe thirteen. Could be any minute now. Could be in five days. If he listens close he can hear maybe a motor in the distance, ominous and booming. Metal against metal. It can’t be that long.
But that doesn’t really matter—not right now. He sits against Medic, watching the stars twinkle, feeling his lungs move up and down. Might not be long but they’re still alive now and that’s what matters, and time might as well be stopped still.
“We should probably go inside,” Dell mutters—in the distance, from the watchtower, Sniper leaves his last post, ambling into the base with beer bottles slung from his hands. Nobody replaces him. Nobody’s going to replace him. There’s not much point in keeping watch anymore. “Demo wanted to do a big thing—last speeches, or something. I dunno.”
“I… would like to finish my beer first, at least.”
He’s stalling for time. Engie turns against him, laughs into his chest as Medic kisses him on the head. “I thought you hated it. What did you call it?“
“Watered-down urine, yes.”
“Shut up. We should go inside some point. You know what happens when Demo gets impatient.”
“His voice is seared into my mind,” Medic says, and he shivers dramatically and Dell kisses him on the cheek—then, like something lights up in his eyes, and he gets this big old grin on his face like he’s just won the lottery.
“Oh no,” Engie laughs. “What are you thinking?”
“I had an idea.”
“That’s not good.”
“Be quiet. Let’s go inside.”
He’s about to say something after that, but Medic plants a big kiss on his lips and sucks all the words right outta him.
Well, that just seals the deal. “Alrighty then,” he says, blushing like he—well, like he’s just been kissed by his favorite person in the whole damn world. “You lead the way.”
“Gladly.”
—
“Hey, honey?”
Medic doesn’t bother to look over—too busy fussing with his suit vest in the little vanity mirror he has in the corner of his room. “What do you need?“
“Can you… tie my tie for me?”
There’s the glare. Dell blinks and suddenly Doc’s across the room, gripping both ends of the tie with an amount of violence that could potentially lead to strangulation—but he softens, carefully undoes the sloppy knot Engie attempted, starts working on a new one. “I’ve told you one of these days you need to learn to do this,” Medic grumbles, a little laughter still clear in his voice.
“It’s romantic or something. Y’know. Last time I wear a tie and my husband did it,” he half-mumbles, and Dell looks at himself in the mirror. Spy dragged him along suit shopping some point a few years ago—when the teams were still fighting each other, and the robots didn’t exist, and Medic was just the creepy-in-a-devastatingly-handsome-way guy on the other team—and well Spy basically forced him to buy this powder-blue prom-king number and honestly he was a little onto something. Dell feels like a million bucks.
“And you just don’t know how to tie it,” Medic says, softly, “it’s alright to admit fault.” His suit’s got a tailcoat and it’s red, deep-deep red, pretty much the color of blood—and it’s velvet, too soft and gently shimmering, and Dell runs his hands up and down the sleeves, absentmindedly. Drop-dead gorgeous. Just like always. He might be he luckiest guy in the whole wide world.
Medic’s wearing one of his ties—blue, with little yellow wrenches. Engie stole one of Doc’s too. He’s pretty sure looking like this they could take on anything. “If you look at it right, it’s your fault,” Engie says. Medic finishes the knot, steps back to admire his work. He’s smiling. “Y’know. Whenever I gotta do it I can just come to you. Let me become dependent.”
“Maybe that was on purpose,” Medic says, face suddenly very grave, even though a smile tugs at his lips. “Now you can’t leave me because you need me too much.”
“Ooh, dastardly. Guess I have no choice but to stay with you now.” Dell offers his arm. Medic takes his hand, kisses it, and then they kiss on the lips, and then they pull away, hands slotted into each other’s like they were made to fit together. They stand like this for a bit, staring at themselves in the mirror.
“Shucks,” Dell mutters. Gosh do they look good.
Medic laughs, kissing him on the head, and he pulls him into a hug and squeezes hard as he can and mutters: “Are you ready?”
Dell can’t hardly breathe but he doesn’t mind. “As I’ll ever be, I reckon.”
—
The rec room’s already full when they get there—Pyro and Scout and Demo lay on the carpet, painting each other’s nails, and everyone else sits around the couch tied in their own little conversations. Everyone’s heads snap towards them as they enter, and Medic pulls Engie a little closer, grinning like he just got struck by lightning.
“Don’t you look pretty,” Demo says, absentmindedly, putting a second coat of blinding neon green on Scout’s nails. His own glimmer red in the low light of the fluorescents. “I feel underdressed.”
“It was Doc’s idea,” Dell laughs. “Blame him.”
“Took you long enough to get ready. Finished Pyro’s nails and almost got done with Scout’s by the time you got here.”
Pyro shows their hands—still gloved, but pastel pink polish rests on the fingertips.
“It’s real pretty, Py,” Engie says, and they make a delighted noise and roll over on their stomach. “Was there a reason we were supposed to come here? Or are we just supposed to look at Demo’s work and stand here.”
“Fruits,” Scout adds, after Dell finishes speaking.
Medic snorts. “Says the boy getting his nails painted.”
“… Fair enough.”
Demo finishes with Scout’s pinkie, looking at it, and then he triumphantly slams the brush down in the bottle and stands up. “Someone get ‘em some… wine or something. Now’s good a time as ever.”
Soldier suddenly materializes behind them, cramming a bottle into each of their hands.
Medic looks at him with distaste, lip twitching. “Danke, Soldier.”
“The beer’s not that bad, honeybee.”
“You don’t know what real beer tastes like,” Medic says, and then he goes over and plunks down next to Heavy on the couch.
Engie follows after him. “I resent that,” he says, sitting in his lap, cozying up against the velvet. “Do ya think that—“
“You’re going to ruin your suit doing that,” says the smoky spot of air in the corner.
Medic grunts disapprovingly. “I did not ask for your opinion, Spy.”
Spy does not respond.
“Heavy thinks Doctor is pretty tonight.”
Medic tilts his head. “And…?”
“And Engineer is alright as well.”
Heavy gets punched in the chest for this, and everyone laughs.
Demo stands and ambles over to Sniper and sits down next to him, tossing an arm over his shoulders and intertwining their legs. “God,” he says, and everyone looks at him, and Sniper looks a little dizzy. “I’m gonna miss you lot.”
Sniper lets out a halfhearted “hear-hear” and everyone else follows.
“May our death be fast and not painful,” Heavy says, thrusting his bottle into the air, and they drink to this.
Spy stands up. “May our respective passages to hell be swift and convenient.” They drink to this too.
“Mmrph-hmprh,” Pyro says, and everyone applauds even though no one’s really sure what they say.
“See you blokes in hell,” Sniper says. “I’m gonna find you guys if it kills me.” He tips his bottle. “Well, again.”
“Don’t worry, guys, I’m gonna stay hot in the afterlife,” Scout says, and everyone groans so he tacks on a: “Also I’ll miss you guys or whatever jeez.”
Everybody drinks to this. For a moment, it’s quiet, til Demo sits up and says: “Solly, you’re good at speeches. I know you got somethin’ planned. Let us hear it.”
Soldier pauses for a long time, and slouches, and then all of a sudden he goes rigid, sniffling, and he—and then he takes off his helmet, revealing an incredibly neat buzz cut, and everyone stares at him. “Men, we have fought hard and well.” An hour ago he was screaming about surrender and then Demo took him into a side room for a few minutes—one has to wonder what exactly happened to him. “I always dreamed of going out this way. Surrounded by good men, fellow soldiers… and, dare I say, friends. I… love all of you. May the flame that burns bright in all of our hearts not be extinguished, even in death.”
Everyone drinks, and Demo starts clapping, and everyone else joins.
“To whatever comes after,” Medic hollers, and everyone hurrahs.
Engie stands up and grins, and everyone smiles back at him, and he feels like he’s looking down off a cliff into the sea—infinite, unknowable nothing, and he doesn’t know if there’s anything there but by god he’s gonna make there be something there.
“To us,” he says, and he gets a thousand to us’s back, and he grins wide as the sun as everyone grins back at him.
In anywhere between an hour and five days the robots will show up, marching their unforgiving rhythm, and they will not survive. For now, though, they are still a team—still strong, forged in the fires of hell. Still together. That’s what matters.
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Smoke Break C. T. H.
Summary: At Calums' party he leaves for a smoke, y/n joining him later on. Some rando pukes on y/n leaving the two to get away. He maybe receives a gift.
Warnings: Swearing, Sex, Oral sex, smoking, mentions of alcohol.
Word Count: 3475
Calum's POV
Who the hell are these people? It's a party for me and I know no one here. Fucking great, Oh yeah mate, trust me it's gonna be HUGE. You'll love it. This is the last time I listen to Ashton. Do I look like I'm fucking having a great time?
We need to get him a girlfriend. They all tell me I need to settle but I'm known as the lone wolf it never works with the lifestyle we have. Well somehow Luke and Michael make it work but to me it's exhausting.
"Aye mate, having fun?" I turn to see dyed hair and I know it's Michael.
"It's fine." I huff as someone shouts happy birthday once more. I see Roy across the way with some chick and he shrugs at me. I would've just preferred to go see Mali but she's always busy now. I just look at Michael while taking a sip of the beer in my cup I've been on this one since this shit of a party started.
"It could be worse you know? You could-" He's interrupted by Crystal who leans up and whispers in his ear he nods and begins to grab her hand. "We're gonna head out she's not feeling well." He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Happy birthday." is all he says when they begin to leave the room. Welp, there goes another friend.
I haven't seen Ashton since the party started and Luke definitely is getting it in with Sierra right now. Literally, all over each other, it's truly disgusting if you asked me. Deciding to move away from this wall I head to the kitchen to throw this drink away, taste watered down because of the ice. Pushing through the moving bodies and the lights everywhere, I dump that shit in the sink. Ashton comes my way trailing a girl behind him, "There you are! Y/n showed up?" I see the hair of a girl just talking to someone who's just come behind her.
Y/n has been around us for a while. I don't know when but our friendship started after we met at a party. She was waiting for Arzylea to join her when we started talking. Next thing you know she was a part of our inner circle. Not gonna lie, She's my favorite person in the group. Everyone thought that when Arz and Luke broke up, she would leave too but she's still here. And she keeps that group chat very entertaining shall I say. We've hung out a few times, with her it's different though. I don't feel the need to be THE Calum Hood bass player for 5SOS, she knew of me but cared more for the person I was. She asked questions even though she knew the answers. I just felt relaxed with her. As more people entered the kitchen, I go to the back porch where I don't see anyone. There are too many people and I don't even want to think about how to clean this up. Pulling a cigarette from the pack I just let the smoke fill my lungs and slowly exhale while leaning against the siding of the house.
"You know that's an awfully bad habit you have Hood." The familiar voice speaks, forcing me to open my eyes.
I chuckle, "Why aren't you enjoying the party?" I ask her.
"Come on you know that's not my scene." I nod silently agreeing. She looks stunning, the way her dress hugs her body, she's so effortlessly flawless. Most girls have to go through a tribal ritual to look as amazing as her. "Stop that." she laughs.
I shake my head slightly to remember what I just did. "Sorry I-I didn't mean to um yeah fuck." I stumble for words she just nods. "It's okay.'' she looks down and fumbles with her hands. It's cute how she does that, almost like she doesn't know she's the most beautiful person in the room. A harsh gust of wind pushes past and she shivers. I look at her and open my arms with my jacket she rolls her eyes but gets closer. Holding the cigarette with my mouth to free my hands I just pull her closer until I feel the warmth of our bodies touch.
"Thanks" She mumbles against my chest. She looks up at me before pulling the cigarette between my lips, just as I'm about to protest she takes a puff. Watching her smoke is by far the hottest thing I've seen, and I've seen Luke naked.
"Oh look who's punkrock now?" I smirk at her as she brings the burning toxin to my lips. Her laugh. Sounds like fucking angels I can feel her chest moving through my shirt. "Can I be in the band now?" She raises an eyebrow.
Dropping the small bud I just laugh along with her. "hEYYY I'm serious" she wines.
"Sure you are." I smile at her.
"No offense Cal but your party blows." She looks at the lights jumping on the hardwood of the deck.
"It's more of Ashton's," I admit. One hell of a birthday. She wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. "Happy birthday Cal," she whispers.
"Thank you y/n." I can feel my pulse in my throat. Being with her makes me so comfortable but yet I feel like I'm on fire. She gets me like no one else could imagine. I place my chin on the top of her head and just hold her. I don't want this to end. "Did Ashton invite you?" curious to how she showed up. In the group chat she said she had plans this weekend. I was really disappointed because if it wasn't clear enough I like her a lot.
"Something like that." She reaches for her phone and scrolls through her text. "From Ashton at 6:58 am," she begins to read slightly pulling away to look at the screen between us. "Hey Y/n! know you're busy this weekend but that doesn't matter because Calum likes you and won't admit it but it would be cool as lemons if you could show up." I'm going to fucking kill him. I hope he likes his ashes being burnt with that fucking lemon tree. She smiles at me and I feel like I could evaporate right the fuck here. Oh Ashton. I will kill you. The door next to us opens and some random guy comes out drunk as hell. "Oh h-hey you three," His burp interrupts him, "It's a great party in thheere"
As he stumbles Y/n goes to keep him upright, but his body has other plans. The foul smell that comes from the vomit projecting on Y/n is awful. He apologizes but quickly goes back inside wiping his mouth on his shirt. "Are you okay?" I ask her equally as shocked. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, I grab her hand without waiting for a response and drag her inside. After her many protest and looks from random people that can smell the bile on her, we make it to the stairs. There are too many fucking people here. Constantly pushing past bodies I know none of these bathrooms are cleared. I walk her down the hallway to my bedroom door when someone interrupts me. "Dude, I've been trying to get in there all night. It's locked. Complete dipshit of an owner right." He smirks reaching for a high five. I roll my eyes at his gesture and grab the key to open my door. His smirk fades into one of realization. He tries to apologize but I shut the door in his face after Y/n follows me inside.
I take off my shoes and she looks at me questioningly. "I have a bathroom in here you can use Y/n." as I relock my door. The last thing I need is for some stranger to come messing with my personal stuff.
"You shouldn't have-"
"Shut up. Some stranger just threw up on you. I would prefer to be in here with you than out there where I don't know anyone. Now go shower." She starts to argue but I just help shove her in the bathroom while closing the door. She knocks from the inside of the door, "Yes Y/n?" I smile at her playful banter.
"I need help. I can't reach the zipper" she says through the wooden door. I release the handle and nod. right she can't see me. Opening the door I walk in, "So your plan was to lock me in here?" She smiles looking through the mirror at me while moving her hair to one side of her shoulder.
"Not exactly, I was gonna kidnap you later." I grab the small zipper and begin to undo it. No wonder who the hell can hold this tiny thing. Once I get it down she thanks me. "Just throw it away okay?"
"But-" I stare at her and she agrees. Closing the door to let her shower. Clothes, she needs clothes. I walk into my closet and grab a t-shirt and her emergency bag. She came up with the idea since no one knows how to bring clothes anywhere we all have one outfit at everyone's place. Thanks to Michael she had to wear the outfit here, but her undergarments are still there.
I knock on the door and she's still in the shower so I leave the shirt and the bag on the counter in the steamy room. Walking out I take off the skinny jeans I'm wearing and change into sweats and a t-shirt.
So many options. Who ever came up with Netflix is a fucking genius. My phone buzzes next to me and I see Ashtons Name. A text, great!
From: Daddy 1:17 am
Bryana's here. Gonna go Catch up.
I just send him an 'Ok' because we all know they're still stuck on each other and there's no way in hell I'm going down there. About 20 minutes into big mouth Y/n walks out of the bathroom wearing the clothes I left for her. No one's ever looked that good in my shirt, shit I don't even look good in my shirt. "Thank you Calum" she quietly commented. "No problem." I pat the spot next to me and she climbs in the bed. I hit play on the tv remote as the show continues to play. I can't even focus on the hormone monster on the screen, this feels so fucking right. I feel her playing with my hand as she watches the screen intently. Her brow furrowing when she doesn't get the concept of Jay being a magician or the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs. I could literally just watch her all day. I mean I know she doesn't like me but I can't help but imagine what a relationship with her would be like. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship but this, this feels more important. It's just not fair I mean there's tour and I wouldn't want to be away from her that long if she were mine. I don't understand how she's single I mean look at her. And you don't find many girls with a personality like hers, she's so kind-hearted and the most humble person I know. When we were in Bali, everyone went to this pool resort and we thought she went missing for the day. But she returned home after visiting orphanages and helping at the village day clinic. I don't want to be selfish but I'll be damned if I let her go. I'm so thankful for that girlfriend of Luke's to bring her completely unbothered, outgoing, and amazing friend with her to that club in New York.
"Did you hear me?" The soft voice brings me from my thoughts. I look down at her "No what?" She starts laughing. I see a black screen on the wall and look at her quizzically. She raises her hands in defense "It's been off for the past 15 minutes." she shrugs. "You looked deep in thought." I just stay silent and look up at the ceiling. ''You can talk to me you know?" she whispers.
"Have you ever wanted something you can't have?" I ask. She chews on her bottom lip before responding.
"I suppose, I mean in regards to what?" but I cut her off, "Why'd you come tonight?"
"It's your birthday." she states clearly confused. "Ashton's text doesn't bother you?"
"I didn't think it would have to bother me?-"
"You had plans."
"You mean much more Cal."
I let her words sink in. Did she like me the way I like her?or maybe she doesn't and I'm really hoping for something? No. This could never work. I don't do relationships.
"Do you wanna keep watching? " I ask her hoping she'll say yes.
"That was the last episode" she says as she turns to me a glimpse if hope in her eyes. "We can just talk Cal."
"I'm actually pretty tired." She nods, a small frown on her face as she goes and turns the light off.
"Night Cal"
"Goodnight Y/n." I whisper before pulling her closer to me. I feel her muscles relax and soft snores escape her lips.
* * *
The sun in the room feels warm against my skin. Opening one eye I see the contract of the bright light against the walls. As I go to move the curtains I feel a warm presence next to me turn. Well, fuck me. Her shirt came up just the slightest to exposed her black lace panties to me and damn is it a sight. Look away. Look away. Look away.
Physically getting up from the bed she pouts and rubs her eyes. "Cal? " her slightly rasped voice speaks. "Yeah just closing the blinds. "
"Can you leave it just a tad. " she ask pulling the covers over her. "The soft light is nice. " I mean I can't say no. "Come here. " she demands and I get back in bed with her. "I should probably start cleaning soon. " I say as a line ass excited to leave the room. All I can picture is how good she looked in these panties and I need to take care of this soon.
"No you won't, since when have you cleaned? Plus I told you I'd help. " my dick is straining against these fucking briefs.
She softly traces random patterns into my skin as we just lay there admiring the room. "Cal" she mumbles.
"You've got an uh-problem. " the blood rushes to my cheeks as she notices my boner. "Sorry i-" I begin to excuse myself from the room hoping a black hole could appear. That would be great.
Surprisingly enough she pushes me to keep me in place. "It just occurred to me that I never got you a gift."
She runs her fingers over my manhood, "Can I make it up to you?"
"Y/n I don't think-" Oh fuck. My dick twitched at the sight of her removing my shirt leaving me speechless. The black lace that clung to her, which landed us in this situation, looked even better than before. "Um you -uh" I start mumbling trying not to look at her body for too long. I mean I could but I'd cum no question.
"It's either a yes or no?" as I was about to answer she started running her hand along the thin black lines. My eyes never leaving her hand as she teasingly rubbed her clit through the fabric. "You see Cal, I want you as much as you want me."
Fuck friendship. I replace her hand with my own to feel her. Fuck how long I've waited to do this. She pushes my hand away from her core while leaving open mouth kisses down my jaw. Licking my earlobe, she whispers, "You're the birthday boy."
She scoots further down the bed until her face is near my groin. This is a sight I could get used to. She slips her fingers in the band and starts pulling my briefs down. Her eyes light up once she sees my throbbing shaft. "You have such a pretty dick." Her thumb runs over my tip causing me to shudder and if possible made me harder. "Y/n you don't have to." My voice cracking a bit, why the fuck was I so nervous.
She rolls her eyes as she kisses my tip her tongue licking along the vein. She slowly begins taking me in her mouth, "Oh fuck y/n" I moan as she swallows around me, her hand pumping what she can't fit all the way. Her mouth is so warm and she's so fucking perfect. My head hits the headboard as my other hand laces itself in her curls as she bobbed her head along my length, letting every sound fall from my lips. Accidentally I pulled her hair which I was going to apologize for until she moaned. The vibrations that sexy ass sound I thrusted up. Fuck no I want to be in her.
"Y/n stop." She let her teeth graze my dick as she moved her mouth off of me. My stiffened member glowing with her saliva.
"I'm sorry this was a bad-" She started mumbling getting off the bed and fixing her hair.
"No!" I yelled surprised at my own tone. "I mean um you're great I just- I want to be in you." The redness on my cheeks very visible. She hesitates before sliding her panties off, "We don't have to I'm sorry I just thought that's where this was going and I-" She kisses me softly and I shut the hell up.
"Calm down, I was just thinking." She says straddling my lap removing her bra. "And before you ask what about well," she lines me with her entrance "It was whether I wanted a condom or not." Our moans are in unison as she slowly slides onto me. Feeling her tight walls stretch around me, her dripping arousal glistening in the soft lights of the sun. The whimper that came from her mouth as she takes all of me. "I'm on the pill and it's your birthday meaning you get the full experience." She says after a moment of her adjusting, sending a playful wink my way. She begins to move and I swear no one has ever felt this good. My hands find their way to her hips slowly rocking her back and forth.
"Fuck Cal" She whimpers as she begins to ride me. I move one of my guiding hands to find her sensitive nub, tracing small circles with the pad of my finger. She jerks back from the touch causing me to smirk, someone's sensitive. I place my thumb over her sensitive nub yet again rubbing back and forth eliciting a moan from her. “Cal I can’t-“ Grabbing her hair pulling her face closer to me, “ You can and you will, got it?” She whimpers nodding in agreement, “I’m not cumming till that pretty pussy of yours is pulsing.” Slowly grinding my hips up, grazing her g-spot with my tip. “Cal-fuck, this was supposed to be your gift.” Grabbing the back of her thigh slowly bringing her body closer to mine, I turn us so she’s underneath me.
“Go out with me and we’ll call it even yeah?” I ask her before continuing to thrust into her. Our moans fall in unison as I pick up the pace. Thrusting into her faster than the time before, the only sounds heard throughout are those of our moans and skin clapping together. My mouth finds its way to her neck, assaulting the soft skin in the area- leaving a reminder for this evening. I can feel her tightening around me, edging me close to my own release. “Cal I’m close.” She manages to mutter as I find my way back to her clit, rubbing fast purposeful circles. Watching the way her pants and moans fall through her lips to the glistening of her chest as it rises and falls with each breath. The sight being enough to drive me to the brink of insanity, “Cum for me y/n.” Almost instantly her eyes roll back as she arches her back, her pussy tightening without mercy forcing my own orgasm to appear. My hips jut forward as I release into her , slowly edging us both along. Our panting is the only thing to be heard as a gently collapse on top of her. “Did you mean it?” She ask, moving the hair from my forehead.
“If you mean me asking you out, yes.” She smiles and pulls my face closer to hers. “took you long enough.” She whispers before attaching her lips to mine.
A/N: (Also posted to Wattpad) I hope you enjoyed it. I'm actually really happy, I've been doing quite a bit of writing so yay! We have another calum smut blurb on the way.I also need help deciding who's the endgame for my Loki/Bucky love triangle but all with time. Anyways I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend!
XOXO Janelle
#5sos imagine#5sos#calum hood smut#calum hood#calum x reader#Calum#calum imagine#5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings#michael clifford#ashton irwin#cth#Smut#smut imagine#smoking
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𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚
pairing: scaramouche x fem!reader
scenario: you met when you were both very young, and since the day he left you behind he still feels an undying fear for what sight would await him if he dared to return home.
or…
thantophobia - the fear of losing a loved one. but he had made it perfectly clear that you did not fall under that category when he left you and all of your promises behind.
request: okok my first idea was: scaramouche childhood friends to enemies to lovers. take with that what you will <3
a/n: hi anon ty so very much for the request we all know i love scara <33 but i did tweak it a bit basically its childhood friends to enemies to scara loves reader but reader isnt convinced (with a hint of 'ive always loved you' thrown in)
side note: this is a rewrite of an excerpt i wrote for a scara x oc, in which the oc was female (the same is said here but i will avoid using pronouns) and adopted into the kamisato clan as a princess (minor inazuma spoilers). the same situation is stated here. also i am 1000% willing to write more of this (includes my personal headcanons for scaramouche’s backstory, not canon!!)
growing up, you had always had poor health
your mother worried for you a lot when you were younger
she didn’t like to let you go outside much either
you spent most of your time in the palace walls while she worked, frequently being taken to see the royal physician
you would sit outside the door while your parents talked with the doctors about your “condition”
you weren’t even that sick
just weak for your age
that was when you first met him
he was training to be a soldier along his father
you were like a ghost in his eyes
sitting in the hall in the middle of the night
knees pushed to your chest, snoozing in the soft light of the moon
he was naturally a curious boy, so he kneeled in front of you and poked your shoulder
“hello?”
you startled awake
“wah-!” he fell back at your sudden movement
“who are you?” you asked
your voice was soft, and gentle, like a midnight breeze
“i’m [redacted].”
you remember what he told you, but some part of that memory had been erased from your mind…you wonder to this day what he could have said.
“my name is y/n.”
he thought it was a pretty name, although he wasn’t going to say anything
the two of you sat in the moonlight, talking quietly amongst yourselves
“why are you sitting outside the physician’s office?” he asked you
“my mama says i’m sick, and that going outside will make it worse.”
“oh. are you going to get better soon?”
you smile at him, a gesture that makes his chest tighten, although he can’t fathom why.
“yeah! she says that if we can afford to get some medicine from liyue, i’ll be all better! then i can start making friends!”
he slightly smiles
“can i be your friend, [redacted]?”
you had even said the name yourself once. why couldn’t you remember it?
his expression shifts to a slightly surprised look
“you…want to be my friend?”
he was quiet even then, and his silent expression would grow to an angry one over time
“yeah! you’re interesting, and you’re one of the few people who bothers to talk to me.”
he doesn’t speak for a while.
“you can say no if you want to.” you say to him.
“okay. i’ll be your friend.”
it’s a short response, but the bright grin that lights up your face makes it worth the wait
“yay! i can’t wait till i’m better so we can hang out more!”
you two talked in that hallway a lot
meeting after dark, talking about anything in the world
when you were about six, the worst of your illness hit you
the doctors didn’t even know what was wrong, and there were nights when he would sit outside the physician’s office alone at night, hoping, praying that the sun would shine on a world that still had you in it
you would collapse from exhaustion at the slightest overexertion
his father always told him he had to be careful with you, not only were you shorter than him, but you were also very fragile
those hours spent sitting in the hallway alone, he got to do a lot of thinking
he wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how
then, there was a sudden burst of hope
you were going to liyue with your parents
you would get the help you needed
he was happy for you, even if it meant you would have to spend time away from him
and then there was the terrible news
the ship had gone missing
you had too
he couldn’t sleep for days on end
his father was worried too
when he saw you again, you found yourself shuddering on the shores of inazuma
he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, as if his strength alone could undo everything that had happened
it was one of the few times he showed affection in public
he rushed you to the healer again
and this time there was no hoping
there was no praying
there was just the pit in his stomach, the fear that coursed through his veins and fueled his blood
every second felt like a decade, it was a moment in which you weren’t perfectly healthy and safe
the townspeople began to spread rumors, as people do
the guard’s son who was lovesick with worry for the sickly orphan girl
what a pity, no?
he wanted to shut them up. he wished he had the power to shut them up.
when even his father had to drag him away from the pharmacy, he didn’t talk to anyone for a very long time.
this was around the time he grew sour and snappy
his simply quiet demeanor developed into a scowl that constantly graced his face
he only smiled the day you were released from the physicians.
you weren’t fully healed. but you felt better than you ever had in your life.
his father took you in without a second thought, and he was just happy to have you with him.
“i’m better, scara.” you said to him, a happy smile on your face
“i was wondering when you’d hurry up and get well.”
you were a bit troubled by his attitude, but no less, you were happy to see your friend again.
it went like that for a long time.
he was rude, but you didn’t care because you knew what he was like underneath.
some nights he would sneak into your room and talk to you.
he told you he was just bored and felt like annoying you.
but his real reason was to make sure you were still breathing.
he always worried about you
so the day you received your vision, he felt a lot of relief
surely this meant that you could protect yourself. you were safe.
then the worst of all things happened.
his fathers death.
the day he felt like his world was ripped from underneath his feet.
almost immediately, the electro archon, baal, herself, intervened, and declared that you were to be adopted into the kamisato clan.
why you? why couldn’t he keep you with him? he was old enough to be able to take care of both of you
baal didn’t like his questioning. she said she knew what was best for you.
it was strange. because in the days he spent with you after, although not many, you didn’t seem sick at all.
for the first time, you seemed perfectly healthy.
he was glad for that…but he wasn’t happy. you could see that easily.
you knew this wasn’t the right thing for him
he stuck around for a year. you suppose you’re lucky he even stayed that long. you were pretty much his only reason.
sure he found friends in ayaka and kazuha…but he was unhappy.
he knew there was no point in staying, so he thought it was time he took his leave.
he approached you one day, as the sun began to set
you were worried for him, as he had been very angry towards baal and the emperor lately.
“scara, is there something you want to talk about?”
you watch as he stands before you
he blurts out, “run away with me.”
you’re taken aback almost immediately.
“what?”
he repeats his statement
“i’m going to flee from inazuma. come with me.”
“scara..”
his expression, as it does often these days, turns stern and serious.
“i’m not going to ask you again. come with me, y/n.”
you’re tired of him ordering you around.
“you know i can’t. i have duties here. i can’t just betray my country for you.”
“you know baal wants me gone. she’s going to kill me if i stay. she might do the same to you.”
you scoff at his words. “she won’t harm me or you. you’re being dramatic.”
he spits out his next words, laced with venom. “baal killed my father. i hate her and so should you.”
“scara.”
“it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about him just because you’re royalty now.”
“scara.”
“don’t call me scara. come with me if you ever cared at all.”
“scaramouche!”
he goes quiet
“don’t go. please.”
he frowns
“you know i can’t do that.”
you want to try and make him stay
but he won’t. you know nothing you say will convince him. he won’t let himself be convinced by you, even if that’s what he truly wants.
you inhale
“get out of here.”
“what?”
“go. leave. and take this with you.”
you throw the necklace you were wearing at him, and he catches it. baal had exiled him, it was true, but he couldn’t expect you to throw everything away for him.
“wait, what are you-“
as the two of you stare each other down, you hear ayaka’s voice coming from the courtyard, calling for you.
she has a guard with her, as the emperor assigns every royal family member. you managed to ditch yours early on.
“the guard is gonna get you if you stay, scara. get out of here, now.”
he scoffs
“whatever. i can’t believe i thought you were worth risking my life.”
he pockets the necklace and steps over the wall, and he’s gone.
nine years of friendship and he threw you away like you were nothing
in truth, the minute he was out of sight, he threw down his bag in anger
he turned around and you weren’t there anymore
you gave up on him
so if he hated you, you deserved it
it might be worth a hefty price anyway.
at least that’s what he told himself
(he never stopped missing you. almost as soon as he joined the fatui, he requested an audience with the tsaritsa to ask her how you were doing.)
“a simple agent, asking that much of me? and for a girl? that’s very bold of you.”
upon hearing it was about you, the cryo archon grew very interested. of course she remembered you.
the sickly orphan she gifted a vision to at a very young age.
she told him you were well
what she didn’t tell him was about baal going berserk and massacring thousands of her people.
upon receiving the news, he felt that chill upon him once again
the fear that fell onto his shoulders, weighing him down, too scared to ask for more information. he didn’t want to be told you were gone.
“the royal family was not harmed.”
he felt his muscles relax as he calmed down.
he quickly reassumed an upright stance.
he was the sixth harbinger. he has no weaknesses. he cares for nothing and no one.
but beneath his mask, the fire of his love for you burned brighter than the flame of any pyro vision.
a/n: ok so i really enjoyed this….scara banner when. i did tweak it a bit but i have other things written for this scenario in which scara returns to inazuma and reader is (deservingly) PISSED with him :) lmk if you want me to post those !
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin#genshin imagines#genshin impact x reader#genshin stuff#genshin impact x you#genshin x you#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact writing#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche genshin impact#genshin inazuma#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche genshin#scaramouche imagines#genshin impact scaramouche#kit.scara#kit.writings
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Hey! I just saw your Asmo-dirty doctor writing and that was sooo good! Can I request another dirty doc themed one? Actually Asmo is so fitting there, but if you find it boring to do another Mammon would be an interesting choice (lol, Mammon doc) and Satan is so fitting there💖
Hey, I am the one who asked the Mammon/Asmo/Satan dirty doctor stuff. That is my first ask, so sorry, but I left out some info. I hope it's not a problem, sorry for me being a newbie. So I need the reader to be female and the doc stimulate and examine her breast really throghoutly... Maybe even checking that why she cannot reach orgasm and help her with that. I'd appreciate that if you could mention the sensation of latex gloved hands on her most sensitive bodyparts too.
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(No worries anon, specifics do help me, and I appreciate you clarifying what you were looking for. Hope you don't mind that I make the doctor Satan for this one! Also will be tagging as fem!mc for anyone who wants to avoid it!)
TW: Vulgar language, use of latex gloves, overstimulation
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With how long MC has lived in the Devildom, her body has been exposed to a plethora of high leveled sin. The phermones and bodily chemicals that make up her functioning mind have had quite the toll on them at this point, and she needed to have a physical check up, in order to see what could be done to help her further adjust to the state of the under realm.
She gave a deep sigh as she rung the flimsy excuse for a hospital gown in her hands nervously, waiting for the doctor who was to perform the physical on her. Lucifer had assured it would help, that there could be a medication, a potion, or even a spell they could use on her to help normalize how she was feeling.
Anything that triggered a cardinal sin for her would make the urge of it ten fold, especially that of lust and greed. She found herself constantly needing to be touched, an ache in her core that needed to be satiated; though when overcome with said lust, she found herself having trouble bringing herself to full climax. Maybe that was also something she could bring up with this doctor...?
She snapped from her thoughts when the doctor finally entered, only for her to gape slightly when she was greeted by the Avatar of Wrath.
"S-Satan? Wait, you are my doctor...?"
He nodded, speaking matter-of-factly. "As the fellow leaders of the Devildom under Lord Diavolo, we all tend to share responsibility and each take on a position every so often. It turned out to be my time as the doctor of the infermary. I hope that does not bother you."
She flushed slightly as she watched him grab up a pair of latex gloves, pausing before he put them on to hear her reply. She shook her head.
"No, I don't mind! It's rather reassuring to have it be a...doctor that I know and can trust instead of some random demon."
He smiled at her, though something in said smile made her stomach do a backflip.
"I'm glad. Now, lay back so we can begin the examination."
He pulled on his gloves with an audible snap, stepping to the head of the metal framed table where he could place his hands by MC's head. He ran his fingers along her hairline, down each side of her face until they rested behind her ears, touching what she assumed to be her pressure points there. He moved down further, bending over her slightly so that his hands could come to to her chest, pushing down the dress from her shoulders a bit to run his fingers along her clavicles.
"Heightened sensitivity," he mumbled, noticing the goosebumps taking over her flesh as he continued to touch her.
"I suppose the phermone levels in the Devildom really do effect a human far more than demons. Your body seems to instantly react to any little touch I give. Though does it hurt, or feel good, when I touch here?"
He shifted her dress further, exposing her breasts to him. His gloved hands came down to cup her, giving each mound a tight squeeze, her nipples rubbed by the latex. She tried to hold in the small squeal she made, giving him a small nod.
"I-It...It feels good, actually."
"Hmm. Good. Now how about if I do this?"
He pinched each nipple, twisting them a bit before giving them a slight tug and releasing them roughly. He repeated the motion a few more times. When she nodded in agreement once more, he hummed in return, this time not saying a word before leaning over her and taking a harden bud in his mouth.
Her backed arched at the sensation, moving her further up the table and causing her head to lean over the edge and come face to face with the front of his slacks. A prominent bulge greeted her, and she gasped at the sight.
Going off of pure impulse, she reached out to undo the zipper of his slacks, eliciting a deep groan from his mouth around her nipple when she reach into his boxers and pulled out his hardened cock. Before she could get the tip in her mouth as she wished, he pulled away from her, swatting at her hands.
"The examination is for you, not me, my dear," he corrected, moving around the table and out of her reach.
She keened in frustration, though suddenly gasped when he pulled her gown completely off, tearing the flimsy strings that held it together. He pulled her down to the opposite edge of the metal table, spreading her legs open as he looked her over closely.
"Have you been playing with yourself since you arrived here?" he asked bluntly, pulling up his chair to be level with her cunt displayed for him.
The flush that spread through her body gave him his answer, but he still wanted her to vocalize it.
She finally nodded. "Yes, I have."
He pressed a hand to her cunt, thumb and forefinger spreading her labia so he could see her hole, twitching and leaking. He used the fingers of his free hand to tease her entrance, watching it stretch as he pressed a single one in.
The rubbery latex covering his fingers felt so foreign inside her, but the warmth from his skin inside the gloves made it feel delightful. He soon pressed a second finger in with the first, pumping and curving them as he searched for her sweet spot. A thumb came up to work her clit in time with his fingers as well, and he could already feel her body tensing under his ministrations.
"Have you brought yourself to orgasm before? You seem to be stimulated rather quickly from just this little bit I am doing to you."
She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat, giving another shake of her head. "I-I, um, I haven't been able to make myself, ya know...I'm not sure why though. I get so worked up so easily but I can never reach it..."
"Maybe you need clitoral and vaginal stimulation simultaneously. It works that way for some women. Let me just..."
She gasped loudly, his fingers finally finding their mark.
"There it is," he said almost cheekily. "Now, just relax. I can give you some relief."
His fingertips worked the spot, pressing into it roughly over and over, as his thumb drew right and hard circles around her clit. The rubbery feel of the latex dragging along her internal walls made her moan and keen, bucking her hips in time with his pumping. She could feel that boiling heat in the pit of her belly, a spring winding tighter and tighter until it snapped, and she was sent careening into the hardest orgasm she had ever felt.
Her back arched off the table once more, and she cried out his name as she rode out the waves, until her body began to finally relax. She slumped on the table a panting mess, her limbs still slightly twitching, but gave out a loud gasp when she felt his fingers push back inside of her.
He found the spot once more, rubbing it hard and in fast circles, his thumb back on her clit. She weakly pushed at his arms, trying pull out of his grasp.
"W-Wait...I can't...too much!"
"We need to help elevate your hormone levels now. This is the best way to do so, MC. So let me take care of you like a good doctor would."
She cried out as his fingers continued to work her, the lips of her cunt puffy and red from his roughness. Her clit was swollen and overstimulated, but he continued to work it in circles, watching her face as she hit another high, her voice hoarse from her cries.
He helped her come down from this one slowly, his fingers still pumping in and out of her until he saw her limbs finally relax and go slack. He pulled his hands away from her exhausted frame, and stood to remove and throw away his gloves.
She noticed, though, as he stepped away for that moment, that has cock was still out in the open, now flushed almost purple at the tip, leaking copious amounts of precum. He caught her staring though, and gave her a slight smirk this time, and she could see the 'doctor' mannerisms begin to leave him as well.
He stepped up to the table once more, positioning himself between her legs, his cock nestled between the puffy lips of her cunt. He removed his jacket and tossed it to the side, leaning over MC with a sinful glint in his green eyes.
"One more part of the examination, MC. Do you think you are up for it?"
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Could we get some more non-con with bailey and either pre-pc or pc, pretty please?
I'm going with canon PC because I want ruthless, remorseless bastard Bailey and defiant PC. Gender neutral reader.
TW for non-con. Also stuckage.
He can't belive what he's seeing. You're such a fucking idiot, trying to use a hole in the garden fence to sneak out and avoid his payments. Now you're stuck, ass sticking out as you try to wiggle free. Should have jumped over the fence like he used to back in the day.
"Give me one good reason why I should help you out," the amusement in his voice is obvious, not like he's trying to hide it.
Muffled through the fence, you cringe as you call out "Come on! I'll do a job for you, or pay a little extra, can you just pull me free? I don't want some pervert to come and get any ideas."
It's not a please. Hadn't heard that from you in a while, but you must be desperate enough to ask for any help from him. Still, Bailey wants something out of this- needs to take advantage of your vulnerability.
It's about 4am. Most people are still in bed, the garden is silent. He could do what he liked right now, and you be powerless to stop him.
"Extra payment?" he knows you mean more money or stealing something, but honestly it's been a while since the caretaker had had some action. You are his prettiest little shit, not like he hadn't thought of ruining you before. This just made it ridiculously easy to do so.
"Yes! What do you want, you old twat?"
There you go mouthing off again. That just solidifies his choice. Maybe if you'd been nice he would have chosen a different payment.
You push against the fence, wincing at how the wire digs into your hips and stomach, but there's no give. Backing up does the same, only with your chest. Constantly scanning the back alley has you paranoid - anyone could come down here and see you like this. Anyone with nefarious purposes.
Bailey's hands on your hips is at first a relief. At least the old bastard decided to help, and when you were free you could run away before he could demand his money, or fight him like you had countless times before. When he starts pulling your pants down to your ankles, however, you freeze.
"What are you doing?" you demand, shivering as the cool night air hits your thighs. Another shiver goes up your spine as large hands stroke up the insides of your thighs, making the muscles twitch.
"I'm taking my payment in advance. You think I don't know you well enough to know you'll try to get out of it?" you feel him grabbing your underwear at the same time he speaks, kicking out your legs in response.
There's a crack in the air as Bailey spanks your ass, making you jump and yet again feel the fence dig into your skin.
"Behave, brat. Stay still and it'll be over quicker."
He tugs down your underwear, exposing your sex, and he can't help himself from admiring how it looks. You'd be worth so, so much if he could sell you.
He undoes his belt, then his fly, pulling out his half-hard cock and giving it a few pumps, focused on the piercings he has, while watching you frantically try to pull yourself out of the hole.
"Don't you fucking dare, Bailey! I swear I'll kill you when I get out of here, I-"
"Do you want out or not?" his voice is flat and bored. "I'll be happy to leave you here. Let the others use you as their own personal plaything for the day. Or you can ask nicely, and it'll be just me ruining your pretty little hole. Your choice."
You're glad he can't see your face right now, because you're starting to tear up. You'd die if he knew how scared his threat made you.
Swallowing your pride, you gulp and will yourself to hold still. Your legs start to shake from unease. "... please get me out, Bailey."
He barely hears it, but its enough. "Good brat."
His hand spreading you wide is a shock, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the cold of the night. The sound of the caretaker spitting is followed by something wet hitting your hole, then a thumb rubbing the saliva in. You can't deny it feels good, and Bailey can see evidence of your growing arousal.
"That's it, stay still and let me take care of it all. Just like I always do."
Of course he's having some weird power trip doing this.
The thumb presses inside and your mouth opens in a silent moan. Again, you're glad he can't see your face. Over and over again the thumb strokes your insides, and your thighs are now quivering from the pleasure. Breaths come out shaky, your fists clenched.
Curse this man. Curse him for making you feel good while violating you.
Another glob of spit lands and is rubbed in, but the thumb leaves and is replaced by the thick head of Bailey's length. It still stings as he pushes it in, slowly sinking in till his hips meet your ass.
"Fuck, you're tight. Should have known you would be," he huffs out, letting himself stay still and adjust to the way your heat sucks him in.
When he starts rolling his hips back and forth, you note something feels different about his dick. There's a strange, pleasant friction from the underside that you weren't expecting. What could that be? What's making you feel so good?
Bailey has both hands clutching your hips, using them as leverage as he takes his time using your body. No need to rush, he can enjoy himself for once. You weren't going anywhere.
Each drag of his cock feels like heaven, especially after so long since he last had someone. Maybe he should fuck you again after this. Start using you as stress relief, to make up for how annoying you've been.
Your skin feels so soft in his hands, he wants you bent over his desk later so he can mark up your neck with his teeth. Have you pinned to a wall, legs around his waist, or even on your back in his bed moaning his name.
A cramp creeps up his leg, and Bailey adjusts his stance, hitting a new angle - and pausing when he hears you yelp out.
"Like that, do you?" he teases, grinning wide and cocky.
Deciding not to give him the satisfaction, your hands cover your mouth and your bite down on your lip. He's not expecting an answer, aways, just decides to stop pounding at a leisurely pace.
The new pace is brutal, assaulting your body and making you stand on your tiptoes. Even with your hands over your mouth, Bailey can hear the moans. Can feel how you clench down around him and how you're getting close to your peak.
He'll make you cum, alright. Maybe then you'll remember that you belong to him.
One of his hands snakes between your legs, teasing you sex while he fucks into you, and you keen in response to the touching.
"Bailey- Bailey, nooo," you beg, panting like a dog at how good you feel.
"No what? Don't stop? Don't not make me cum? Come on, use your words," you're going to have to tell him what you want instead of incoherently whining like a whore.
"Don't want to-to cum," you manage to stammer out, but Bailey tuts in response. Tough shit, he's going to have you finish whether you like it or not.
"That's a shame then, isn't it?" the caretaker taunts in between breaths. He's getting close himself, just a little more. Just needs to feel your needy hole convulse around his shaft.
His wish is fulfilled sooner than he anticipated, your body tensing for a moment before spasming as you cry out on the other side of the fence.
Bailey groans out as he empties himself inside of you, hips not stopping as he does so. Some of his seed drips onto the grass below, coming out when his length retreats.
His final thrust is deep, pressing harshly inside and you push back against him. That's how you stay for a few seconds, both stopping to catch your breaths.
Bailey removes himself from you, tucking away his dick and straightening his clothes. Watching your legs flop from exhaustion, pearls of white trailing down your thighs, almost has him wanting a second round.
"I'll be right back," he sighs, moving to the shed to get some wire cutters. He sticks to his word, returning and snipping the fence around your scratched skin.
As soon as there's enough slack, you fall backwards into the garden and stay flat on your back, not bothering to fix your clothes yet.
He watches you for a few seconds, noticing how your eyes still seem glazed over in a post-sex haze.
"I'm still expecting my money by 8am."
"Fuck you."
"You just did."
With that, Bailey strides back towards the orphanage, taking out a cigarette and lighting it on the way. You can pick yourself up now. He needs a shower and some breakfast.
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asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}
summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’)
warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work
this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it
enjoy
- jazz
Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.
And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth.
Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart.
Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.
None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse.
It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you.
Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain.
Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life.
A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you.
It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore
‘You look like shit.’
He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before.
The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once.
You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured.
‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’
Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’
‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’
‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’
Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.
He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally.
‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’
The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way.
‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead.
When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you.
‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’
‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’
‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’
‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured.
‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’
‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’
‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’
‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’
‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’
‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’
‘I miss it already.’
--
Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing.
Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony.
There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be.
After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably.
‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’
‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’
‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’
‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’
‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’
‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’
‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’
‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’
‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’
‘What if they didn’t?’
‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’
Well, that explained it.
‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’
‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’
‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’
The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it.
Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day.
There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities.
But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about.
It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye.
And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.
‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’
‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’
You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’
‘That’s mean.’
‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’
Wait for you. Follow you.
‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’
‘Mmm?’
‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’
‘Or?’
‘How do you know there’s an or?’
‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’
‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’
‘Just cut to the point.’
‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’
‘So, you and me?’
‘What?’
‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’
‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’
‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’
‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’
You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’
--
Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter.
That was the problem.
You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be.
It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever?
That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find.
He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you?
That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing.
‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked.
‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’
He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’
‘Try me.’
‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’
‘I am here.’ You reminded him.
‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’
‘What’s the difference, Obi?’
‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’
‘Yeah.’
He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’
‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’
‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.
‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.
‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.
‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked.
You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later.
‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’
‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’
‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now.
This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.
‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’
‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’
Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either.
Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed.
Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around.
When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.
You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human.
‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’
He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost.
Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.
Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.
You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.
#obi-wan x reader#obi-wan x you#obi-wan imagine#obi-wan angst#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan kenobi x you#obi-wan kenobi imagine#obi-wan kenobi angst#obi wan x reader#obi wan imagine#obi wan angst#obi wan kenobi x you#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan kenobi imagine#obi wan kenobi angst#star wars x reader#star wars x you#star wars imagines#star wars imagine#star wars angst
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Compass
Chapter One
Summary: Falling in love with two people isn't normal, but after fighting your way out of the TVA, you can't help but develop feelings for both Loki and Mobius. Hiding your emotions has never been your strong suit, and your resolve has been fading with each passing day you spend together at the compound.
Word count: 4,630
Loki looked across the common room to find Mobius rifling through papers, undoubtedly studying another timeline that would need to be fixed. Loki watched his hands turn the crisp pages, watched his index finger travel down to find a specific word.
He decided to break his gaze and clear his throat, shaking himself out of his daze. “Don’t you think we should take a break? We’ve been at this all day.”
Mobius looked up from the folder and raised a single eyebrow. “You mean I have been at this all day. You’ve been sitting there looking pretty while I have been isolating timelines we need to fix without so much as a lunch break.”
If not for his Frost Giant heritage, the blush on his face would be unmistakable. Suddenly words left him, so he decided to stare out of a window, his dark thoughts immediately returning.
He left who he used to be back in New York. The jealous god, the god who was angry at everything and couldn’t love anything simply out of fear. It seemed that all of the sudden there was too much love in his heart, the kind that made him feel the most guilty he had been in a long while.
Loki, Mobius, and you fighting through the TVA was no small feat, and even now there was no time to rest.
“Although I suppose we should check on y/n. She’s been cooped up in her office all day,” Mobius observed, pushing away from the desk and stretching his arms up. Loki noticed his torso as he stretched, the fabric revealing the slight V of his waist. There was that nonexistent blush again, the panging he felt in his chest.
“I’ll get her some food from the kitchen.” As Loki left for the kitchen, it was now your features that plagued his mind. Your soft skin, supple thighs, full cheeks, y/e/c. How could this be possible, to love two people at the same time? Just years before he would have destroyed an entire planet without thinking, and now every action he made, he’d run it over in his head before doing so just to make sure he didn’t say something wrong that could hurt yours or Mobius’ feelings. Although Mobius wasn’t exactly the most sensitive of the bunch, Loki cringed when he thought of all the terrible things he said to both you and Mobius when he first arrived at the TVA.
There were cooks of course, The Avengers Tower was huge with so many people coming in and out, but he wanted to make you food by his hand.
-
Your feelings for Mobius and Loki were… complicated at best. The passion you felt for Loki made your head dizzy, but the tender love you felt for Mobius made your heart ache. You ran a hand down your face, the guilt gathering up in the pit of your stomach again. How was this even possible? You loved them both, and while they probably didn’t even have a clue, you couldn’t imagine letting either one of them go. And if you lost both of them...
You heard a knock at your door, and you tried steeling your face into indifference again, but ultimately failed. “Come in!” Instead of indifference, you tried to look as happy as can be, providing a smile as bright as the stars.
As soon as you saw both of them come in at the same time, your face immediately fell. You tried to look away from their faces, your eyes pointing downward, pretending to do something you were working on before you were about to have a breakdown. You couldn’t actually be in control of your emotions when Mobius started acting all gentle and kind and Loki started a war of who could use the most sarcasm in one sentence. (Hint: He always won.)
“Is there something the two of you needed?”
Loki sat down in the chair in front of your desk, placing a covered dish in front of you, planting his feet on your desk, which he knew you absolutely hated.
“We can’t visit our favorite girl unannounced?” Mobius spoke, giving that little grin of his.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Favorite girl. Were you really… their favorite girl?
His excited smile faded. “Unless you’re busy… I don’t want to interrupt you.”
You slid a hand to Loki’s boots, roughly slapping his feet off the table and uncovering the dish. “No, I- Well, I guess I haven’t eaten all day.” Part of your job to create a new task force of Avengers to fix the timelines destroyed accompanied by Doctor Stephen Strange. He usually was in your office with you going over the candidates you thought would make a good addition to the team, but he was currently out convincing them to come back to the compound.
“Sorry. I should’ve brought food up to you a long time ago.”
Loki eyed you as you took your first bite into what had to be your favorite meal of all time. You started to shake your head at his comments, but instead you closed your eyes for a moment, letting a moan sneak past your lips. “This is so good! It tastes much better than what the cooks usually make for us. Who made this?” Usually it was all leafy green salads and juice the color of baby puke (doctor’s orders, and by doctor, you mean an overprotective philanthropist), but thank the gods, it was something actually cooked in oil.
“Loki cooked it for you,” Mobius said with a teasing smirk, but then his lips went into a pout. “While I eat this salad for the twentieth night in a row.”
A blush crept up on your nose and you giggled. “Guess I’m just that special.”
“Yes,” Loki remarked. “You are.” His eyes burned into your own.
The blush deepened into a shade of ruby red. Loki was always one for bluntness and didn’t always understand how humans communicated with each other. Yes, that was all it was. Just him reminding you how much he cared for you as a friend. The sentiment was new to him, after all.
You filled your face with more food, your eyes staring down so that you didn’t have to meet either of their pair of eyes. After finishing your food, you heard a bottle of alcohol thud on your desk. You laughed and gave a little shake of your head. “Don’t you know that the use of alcohol or other substances will hinder our training?” You mocked Tony, his strictness fueled by FRIDAY.
“Well,” Loki laughed. “I am not in training,” he continued, popping the cork off with his mouth. “Because I am already amazing.” He put the bottle to his lips and took two long swigs.
Both you and Mobius groaned, Mobius grabbing the neck of the bottle from him and doing the same. As he passed it to you, you thought that maybe this was a bad idea. You never really got too drunk unless you were “reveling” with Thor, but you were constantly afraid your feelings might slip out. One wrong look, and they might figure it out.
Mobius passed it to you, and you downed four long gulps. Maybe the alcohol would make you momentarily forget your feelings instead of bringing them to the surface. Immediately your head felt lighter as you passed it back to Loki, but instead of the smiles that were there before, two worried glances were presented on their faces.
Loki put the bottle down. “What’s wrong?” The concerned look on both of their faces made your heart thud in your chest. They really, actually cared about you. About what you thought, what you felt, if you ate, if there was too much on your plate. That was more than just being friends, right? When you were with them, you felt different. Lighter, safe, like nothing could really hurt you as long as you three were together.
“Nothing,” you defended, taking another bite of your food as the buzz you had started to ebb and flow. Trying to keep the tears springing from your eyes was no small task, but you couldn’t do this now, in front of them. You hated lying to them and you didn’t even know what excuse you could possibly make if tears started running down your cheeks.
But the truth was that you cried often. Late at night after hours of exhausting work, not only isolating timelines but trying to convince people with abilities to help your cause, usually wielding little to no results. After all that tiresome work, it wasn’t the universe or your collective impending doom you thought about; it was Mobius and Loki. How they take care of you, how it might feel to have Mobius’ lips on yours while Loki wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your neck...
How long have you been looking at your empty plate without saying anything?
“Y/n? Sweetheart?” Mobius started, reaching for your hand across the desk which made Loki look at the pair of yours. Why did he call you that so often? Ever since coming to the TVA, even when it looked like he wanted to scream at Loki until he was hoarse, even when you joined forces with Loki and he couldn’t understand why in the world you would, he wanted to protect you. Both of them did.
It felt like your heart was just continually skipping beats. It was absolutely insane that one word was the thing that was finally going to undo you.
Sweetheart.
Our favorite girl.
Your eyes went back and forth between the two of their faces, your lip starting to wobble. Loki immediately got up from his chair in front of you, moving towards you and crouching down to your eye level. “What is it? What’s the matter, y/n?” His concerned blue eyes searched yours, his eyebrows knitting together in worry.
Mobius was hovering over you at your desk with that same look, waiting for your response.
There were lies you could tell, of course. I’m just tired. I miss my family. I want to piece this god-forsaken universe back together already. It was all true of course, but the real reason you lay awake at night with tears streaming down your face was because you were in love with the both of them and if you did anything about it, you’d lose them. And your heart could absolutely not handle that. They were everything to you.
You could only imagine it, which you did often. Their confused looks which would make you feel like the weirdest person on the planet, the neverending silence as they only talked to you about work. How could you possibly handle them not barging in on your space every night, not making you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet just to have friends like these?
Nevertheless, the tears came and the sobs started racking your body as they both came to your rescue, enveloping you in their arms, which only made you cry harder.
“Y/n-” Mobius started, but was cut short because of… that look you were giving him. The one that said everything, the one that also traveled to Loki. It was unmistakable. With them, you were an open book and your face were the words on the page.
Loki pulled away, but only to put a hand on your waist. Was he… giving you the same look? When you looked back over to Mobius, his hand was at your waist as well, his hand flying up to dry your tears. “Sweetheart,” he breathed.
As soon as your eyes fluttered, Mobius’ mouth was on yours, giving you the most tender kiss you had ever felt. His lips slightly pulled away as Loki’s finger hooked under your chin and his lips flew to yours. Back and forth you played this little game until your knees were threatening to buckle underneath your feet, both of them slightly rubbing your waist.
As you pulled back slightly, their lips finally pressed against each other. The kiss between them was more rough but just as loving.
You couldn’t believe this was happening. No, there was no way they felt the same things you did. Ever since spending time with the both of them in the TVA, the thoughts that plagued your mind were perhaps the darkest you ever felt. Not just because you knew without a shadow of a doubt whatever conclusion you came to you would get hurt, but because you might hurt them in any way. The love you felt for them didn’t seem natural, but it definitely felt it. But this…. They felt it too? Not only that, but they felt things for each other as well? For how long?
Suddenly you didn’t want to be cooped up in this office anymore so you grabbed both of their hands, locking their fingers with yours and started moving to the stairs that led to your room. As soon as you closed the door, Mobius was pushing you against it while Loki ran a finger down the length of your arm.
You didn’t need to say anything for now. Your faces said so much. Words might be necessary later, but now…
Loki nudged him over while his lips explored yours again and Mobius kissed your neck. A moan escaped your lips again, but this one wasn’t because of the pleasure of food, rather the pleasure of the two men controlling your every movement. Mobius’ hands were still pinning you to the door, and you couldn’t help it as your waist moved against Loki’s.
“Please,” you breathed. “I n-need-” God, it was hard for you to talk with Loki’s lips hovering over yours, the heat rising in you as you imagined all the marks Mobius was making on your neck, claiming you as his.
“What do you need, darling?” Loki whispered, moving to the other side of your neck. Mobius shoved his leg in between yours, your hips making quick work of him.
Apparently that was all the answer they needed. Mobius grabbed your waist, moving you to your bed as they both joined you and started on your neck again while Loki began slowly untying your top, testing to see if you were comfortable.
Usually you were shy around them, but you had enough of just fantasizing about them doing this. You would be perfectly happy if they decided to rip your clothes off and spread your legs.
“I’m tired of waiting,” Mobius snapped as if reading your mind, shoving your pants down as Loki threw your top onto the floor. They both beheld you in your matching lacy white bra and panties. They looked… hungry. Like they’d both been waiting for this, only now they realized all three of you wanted it just as much.
You swallowed as they stared into each other's eyes just a moment before taking each other’s shirts off. Even though you needed them to rip off all your underthings, you were nervous. They definitely had more experience than you, and Loki was a literal god who could get whatever or whomever he wanted.
As Mobius placed his lips onto yours again, his tongue teasing your own, you could feel Loki’s hands gripping your panties, sliding them down. He took in a breath, giving himself a moment to take you in. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, just before spreading you with two of his fingers.
“Mmm, fuck,” you moaned against Mobius’ lips, moving so that Loki had perfect access. All you wanted was his tongue on you, or even his fingers filling you up.
Okay, that’s not all you wanted, but it was a start. What you really wanted wasn’t just his fingers filling you up, but either - or both of their cock’s inside of you, hitting that one spot you really loved-
“Loki!” you gasped as his mouth connected with your clit, his finger easily sliding into you. You bucked against him, biting your own lip as Mobius slid down near Loki, giving him a kiss before removing his finger and sucking on it, tasting your juices. The look in their eyes when they looked at eachother - it was sending you over the edge already.
“Look at her, Loki,” Mobius observed. “She’s already wanting to cum on your mouth. Should we let her?” Was he teasing us? You were dripping at this point, coating his mouth with your juices, gripping the covers with your fists. The look in Loki’s eyes was feral as his tongue flicked over your clit and then swirled around it. The only answer he provided was a groan of pleasure from having his tongue play with your clit. He was waiting for permission.
“Not yet,” Mobius decided, grabbing a handful of Loki’s hair, pulling him back. Loki’s face was pure disappointment, which he soothed by licking his lips, tasting you again.
Loki moved towards you, his face hovering over yours. “You taste so good,” he whispered. “Do you want to taste yourself?”
You gave a nod, staring up at him and he gave you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever felt, his tongue enveloping yours. You sucked on it, moaning against his tongue as you savored yourself.
As you sucked on his tongue, you realized you were one-hundred percent more wet than you started off, and you couldn’t help but squirm as Mobius spread your legs ever father, his finger moving slowly up and down your clit. This was fucking agonizing. You didn’t want to be teased, you wanted them to take you right here on this bed.
“Good things come to those who wait, y/n.”
You stared at Mobius who was currently sliding a single finger into you excruciatingly slowly, a pleasured smile on his face, most likely because he knew how bad you wanted him, wanted the both of them to be inside of you.
“Please,” you begged as Loki started to unhook your bra, placing his mouth on your nipple. “I-I want-”
Mobius stopped pumping his finger in and out of you, joining Loki in playing with your nipples. “Yes y/n, tell me what you want and I may even give it to you.” Before you could speak, he slid his finger into your mouth which just made you buck your hips even more.
“Oh, is that what you want?” Suddenly, he grabbed Loki and started taking off the remainder of his clothes, finally sliding off his belt and undoing his pants, shoving them down with his underwear and exposing his cock. “Is this what you want? You need to be fucked?” You glanced at Mobius who was currently stroking Loki who tilted his back in pleasure. The sight was fucking angelic, and all you could do was speechlessly nod without abandon.
Loki was rock hard, probably from the moment he saw your glistening pussy. As you rose to your knees, you met his face as you pumped him with your hand, taking over from Mobius, exploring him. “Do you like that?” You wanted to edge him on. You wanted him to lose control, especially because you could see how much he was trying to contain himself. Mobius saw it too, which was part of the reason he was teasing the both of you so much. The other reason was because he wanted to see just how bad you wanted him.
No response, just another groan. You heard Mobius taking his pants off but was utterly focused on pleasuring Loki.
Suddenly you could feel Mobius’ cock against your ass, him coming behind you and feeling on your breasts. “Now tell Daddy exactly what you want.”
Fuck.
“Both of you. Inside of me.” You turned your head to look at him, biting your lip out of embarrassment.
Surprise lit his features. “Are you sure about that? I don’t want it to be too much for you… Yet.”
You nodded quickly. “I want both of you to fill me up.”
Mobius tore you away from Loki, pushing you face forward onto the bed, placing a hand on your stomach to prop your ass up. You took that as a clue to arch your back. “Good girl,” Loki remarked, moving you over momentarily to move under you. Loki started teasing you, placing his cock at your entrance.
“No, no more teasing,” you begged, letting out a little wine. “Please just… Please fuck me!”
“Isn’t she impatient, sweetie?” Mobius pondered, lubing himself up with something you didn’t recognize, then going to his fingers so he could stretch you out. From this angle, Mobius could control everything. He slid a finger into your ass which caused a moan to slip out. Honestly, this wasn’t a normal thing for you, but you had to have both of them. You didn’t want to wait or deny yourself any longer.
You bucked against his finger as he slid another one inside of you. It hurt a little, but in the best way possible. You could feel him stretching you out, taking his time, just as Loki rubbed himself against your clit. Loki’s little pants and quiet moans were only teasing you further, and even Mobius looked like he was losing his resolve to go slowly.
Words wouldn’t, or rather, couldn’t escape your mouth. You already felt so filled up with Mobius’ fingers pumping in and out of you, Loki threatening to slip inside of you. The feeling you felt was best described as… helpless. They were controlling your every move, how fast or slow you went, when or even if you would cum.
Mobius gave a look to Loki, silently giving him permission as he slowly slid his fingers out of you. “Are you ready, sweetheart?” Loki asked, his soft and wanting eyes staring up at you and pushing your hair behind your ear. “Would you like to feel me inside of you?”
“Y-Yes!” You leaned further onto him so that Mobius would have easier access to your ass and so that Loki could easily slip inside of you. His breathing turned ragged as the head of his cock teased your entrance, but you were tired of being teased. All those nights fantasizing about this, fantasizing about the looks they were giving you now. Never in a million years would you think they would want this too, but here they were, one under you and one on top, showing you how much they cared for you.
Even though Mobius wrapped his fingers around your hips, moving Loki’s legs slightly so he could have as much access to you as he needed, you slid onto Loki’s long shaft, sending shocks throughout your body. His grip tightened just as you could feel Mobius’ lubed cock slide into your ass.
Filled up is what you felt. You almost felt overwhelmed with it, but you could take it. You could take both of them as they started pumping in and out of you. You closed your eyes, almost feeling high, feeling like the universe was moving throughout your body.
Mobius couldn’t have possibly known your eyes were closed, but you felt one arm wrap around your waist as his fingers tightened in your hair. “Look at him pumping inside of you, y/n. Watch him fuck you.” His breath was ragged too as you moved between them, your hands tightening around Loki’s shoulders for purchase.
The moans coming out of you were loud, probably loud enough to wake the entire compound, but you didn’t care. They were stretching you out, filling you up entirely. You had never felt more loved than this exact moment. “Please-” you moaned. At this point, you weren’t sure what you were saying. You weren’t sure of anything, and you especially weren’t sure where you ended and Loki and Mobius began. “I don’t know if I can-” you started, pausing to look at Loki’s feral glance. You knew you were dripping with want, with need. You were wet, so wet, and so tight, and you loved the feeling of him inside of you. He was a god, and that almost all-powerful thing inside of him threatened to come out with every thrust, every new moan you made.
“What’s wrong?” Mobius asked, moving his hand from your hair to your chin, making you look at him. His eyes were almost glossed over, and he was still fighting his composure.
You shook your head, moving to buck back against him, which prompted him to move his hand back to your hair, controlling your every move, your every thrust. “I just don’t think I can-” Another shock rang throughout your body as they grew even more in sync with each other, picking up their pace. You felt totally dominated, and your mind was reeling from the fact that the two people you loved so much were fucking you into oblivion. The blush spread to your nose as you bit your lip. “I don’t think I can last long,” you moaned, rolling your head back momentarily as Mobius loosened his grip, kissing your soft lips.
Fuck, you saw stars. You were so close already, and his lips on yours didn’t help, his tongue exploring your own. His moans vibrated against your mouth as he grabbed a handful of your hair again, pushing you down to kiss Loki as he chuckled, some sadistic part of him enjoying seeing you on the edge. While you were usually so in control of everything around you, Mobius liked seeing you completely out of control, at his mercy.
Loki was close too. You could tell, because his grip was tightening even further on your waist, holding you completely in place while he slid in and out of you, his teeth gently pulling on your bottom lip. Through all three of your moans, you could hear the wet slap of his cock as he fucked you. He kept hitting that exact place you wanted him to, which made you cry out in pleasure. You were so glad they were both holding you, otherwise you didn’t think you could hold yourself up anymore.
Mobius’ hand moved from your hair to your throat, his grip tightening around you. Your eyes widened as any control you previously had completely disappeared along with your resolve to hold on. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as your pussy tightened around Loki’s cock, causing him to cry out in turn. Your eyes opened again, watching him shoot his cum inside of you. “Y/n!” He cried out your name as he reached for you, his hand tightening around your own.
“Fuck,” Mobius swore. Galaxies exploded inside of you as you gripped Loki’s other hand too, biting your lip as you felt Mobius shoot inside of your ass with a loud groan.
As your orgasm finally calmed, you felt the both of them slide out of you and let out an involuntary whimper. The feeling of being filled up, it was… everything. And now you felt empty. But as soon as they heard it, they came to your rescue, Loki turning over and pressing your face to his chest as Mobius laid down at your side, stroking your back and covering the three of you up.
“Better?” he whispered.
You nodded, moving your head to stare up at him, your lip wobbling a little. You felt completely exhausted, and the world felt like it was spinning around you, but as soon as you felt their arms tighten around you, you came back to Earth. He planted a small kiss on your lips, giving you a smile that made all dark thoughts completely disappear. You could see things in that smile, things that had been left unsaid.
“So much better,” you sighed.
#lokixmobiusxreader#loki/mobius/reader#loki x reader#mobius x reader#marvel#marvel fanfic#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#tva#my fanfic
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The Trouble With “Gifted” Labels in School:
//TW: discussion of s*icidial thoughts and depression
Growing up, I was considered “smart”. I was reading before my peers and had a much larger vocabulary than them. I had better comprehension on a wide variety of topics. My test scores always fell in the “advanced” range. I could carry on conversations with adults with ease. It wasn’t long before I was put in “gifted” classes.
By high school, I was a straight-F student.
“You’re a smart kid,” my teachers would tell me. “You clearly understand the information, so why are you failing my classes?” I never knew how to answer that. They were right, I understood the information. I had no idea why I couldn’t do better. I was told repeatedly that I was just lazy, that I wasn’t trying, that I lacked self-discipline. I believed every word of it, and I was constantly frustrated with myself.
At 21, however, I understand now why I struggled so bad. All that time I was struggling with ADHD in a system that provided no help. Yes, I understood the information, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it.
Let’s talk about the role that the “gifted” label played in that.
I was never taught in school how to study, or that I even had to. I just knew that I was “smart” and therefore I naturally understood the information. In 3rd grade I switched to online schooling only, which provided minimal structure and minimal interaction with my teachers and peers. I was expected to work off of my own structure and complete work on my own. I had absolutely no idea what to do.
Imagine you have to run a marathon. Your whole life you’ve been told “you’re so fast, this will be easy for you!” and that’s all you know. So as soon as that marathon starts, you break out into a full sprint and pass all the other runners. But after awhile, you get tired and start cramping up, and you have to stop. Before long, all the other runners have passed you and left you behind. Because the thing is, they were taught to stretch before hand, to hydrate and pace themselves. They were taught proper running form, but you? You were fast, that was all you needed. Now you have no idea why you can’t keep up or even how to move forward at all. All you know is that the people around you are telling you that you’re lazy or that you’re not trying hard enough, even though you can barely stand.
That is exactly what the education system felt like to me. I was not given the resources I needed to succeed and I watched all my peers pass me. I still don’t know how to pick the pieces up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how to apply to college or choose a career, I still don’t drive, and I have no idea how to fix that.
The thing is, no one would have expected this in the beginning because I was “smart”, and they assumed that my failure to keep up was because of laziness. Teachers need to be trained what to watch for in students to help identify ADHD early on and effectively support the students dealing with it. Because that never happened, though, it led to so many other problems in my life.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me and I blamed myself for all of this. I started having panic attacks looking at a single worksheet because no matter how many times my eyes went over it, I couldn’t process the words that were written (and I should add that I didn’t even know what a panic attack was, I just thought I was dying because I suddenly couldn’t breathe or feel my limbs). I would get so overwhelmed I would freeze in place and stop functioning. By the time I was 11, I was dealing with depression and constant suicidal thoughts. I thought I was broken and useless because I wasn’t able to do what was asked of me.
Ten years later, none of this has gone away. I still get immense anxiety trying to complete basic tasks. I’m still chronically overwhelmed and exhausted, and I still face bouts of depression. I still deal with suicidal thoughts on a daily basis that I can’t seem to get rid of no matter what I do, even when I’m not actively depressed (passive ideation, not active).
I am an adult still trying to undo the damage that the failings of this schooling system did to me. I know that I’m not alone in this, and it breaks my heart to think of how many kids have been through —and are still going through— these things. Kids need to be told that it’s okay to struggle, and receive support when they do. They don’t need to be told they’re smart, they need to be encouraged to give their best and then helped when tasks are beyond their capabilities.
#add#adhd#gifted kid burnout#gifted kid syndrome#american school system#neurodivergent#neurodivergence#tw sucidal thoughts
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“with your mouth on mine, there's less bullshit coming out of it.“ For a ship of your choice :)
Okie Dokie :)
Randomly selected Seed: Rook Diamond x Joseph Seed!
(Btw, if you are wondering why I never do Rook Diamond x Faith Seed, it’s because he is gay, but I’m always up for writing some friend stuff for them - I have so many ideas about that one 🤣)
(Remember, sexual themes and some strong language, folks)
It had been three weeks.
Three. Whole. Weeks.
How much more of this torture could he take? It was painful. It was slow. It was everlasting. How strong was his will? John had said he was full of will and tenacity. But this… this was his undoing. This, he supposed, was the ultimate test.
When Joseph said that God tested people, he wasn’t kidding.
God must be testing Rook. He didn’t fucking believe in God, but something out there must be testing him. He wished he could contact his Spirit Guide.
Torturous. So torturous. Did he have to spend seven years in this fucking bunker with this fucking shirtless guy spouting utter bullshit?
Rook groaned loudly. “Please, shut up.” He elongated every syllable, so that finally Joseph shut his mouth, stopping his long, dull rant about sin.
The younger man looked up from beyond his cradle of arms, to catch Joseph scrunching his eyes up in irritation. He clearly does not like being interrupted.
Well, tough. Rook did not like being preached at by dollar store versions of his Moms priest. No matter how annoyingly attractive they were.
As stated before, it had been three weeks since the bombs went off. Three weeks since ‘The Collapse’. And three weeks since the start of the two men’s long, long, long, long journey together underneath the earth. At this point, they were both starting to get seriously ticked off with each other.
Joseph’s insecurity and uncertainty about how things had turned out were at a all time high, which meant he was continuously praying out loud, and preaching into the metal box of Dutch’s bunker, as if he were trying to contact all his followers that were left alone beyond it. As a result of this, Rook had been getting way more snippy, and had to constantly restrain himself from punching the wall, let alone Joseph. The former-Deputy’s snide comments and witty remarks (despite internally promising that he would be more empathetic of Joseph’s situation) had, paradoxically, only encouraged Joseph to be more aggressive and pervasive.
By the second week, the preacher had taken it upon himself to wake Rook every morning with loud sermons about Sloth. In retaliation, Rook kept Joseph’s stomach churning at almost compulsory mealtimes (the best shitty, dog-food-tasting canned grub that the Bunker could offer) by giving explicitly detailed accounts of his very intimate, sexual affair with a Preachers son back home.
By the third week, it was war. Joseph had taken to dragging Rook out of his room (yes, they had dedicated rooms now - a little bit of normalcy, at least) and into the main ‘living room’ to preach to him about sin, specifically now Lust and Sloth. If Rook tried to protest, Joseph would use the ‘You killed my brothers and sister’ Card, and the younger man would become docile, pressing his lips shut, clearly feeling guilty. Rook had not, as of yet, come up with a perfect form of revenge for this, but it certainly kept him entertained at night, plotting ways to annoy the ever-loving shit out of Joseph.
It was during one of these happy little meetings in which Rook had had enough.
He literally couldn’t take it anymore. All this fighting was getting exhausting, and Rook had a strong loathing for people who made him feel guilty for being human.
Now, Joseph eyes stared disapprovingly, as Rook sat up properly from his bored, slouched, banana-shaped form.
Rook glared right back at him. He wasn’t taking this shit anymore. “What’s that look for? You think I want to be here?! Because I really don’t, you know.”
The older man sighed, irritated. “You need to hear this, child. You need to know about the dangers of Lust and the way it corrupts your sou-”
Rook threw his head back, up to the ceiling, dramatically, and groaned even louder than before, so that Joseph, once again, shut up with a huff.
“Seriously, what is the point of this?! Please tell me this isn’t a deranged, culty version of The Talk. I have to say, Father, my real parents beat you to it about 15 years ago.”
Rook faltered for a moment, accidentally dampening his own momentum with the thought of his family, back in New York. He buried his emotions deep down, ready to deal with them and cry about it late at night, when he thought Joseph couldn’t hear or see. He thought wrong.
The preacher snarled, aggravated by what he saw as childish nonsense. He lost his patience, and his temper.
That’s how it started.
Joseph’s arm whipped out, grabbing Rook by the collar of his t-shirt and drawing him close to his face. Rook was momentarily choked again. This time, literally. Joseph snarled into the younger man’s face, suddenly on the same side of the table, gripping the base of his throat and the side of his face, to keep him from moving or looking away.
Rook’s breath hitched slightly. As much as he fucking hated it, his body grew a little warmer all over, and he could not play it off as embarrassment. He had made a pact not to lie to himself. He bit his lip and internally smacked himself.
He couldn’t help it. An older, attractive man gripping his throat was basically one of his first wet dreams. And Joseph was so close…
He smothered down any possible sexual feelings as quickly as possible.
Not now. Not now. Not. Now.
He kept his teeth gritted together, as Joseph seethed in a slow, menacing purr: “Heed my words, child. Nothing good or pure will come of Lust clouding your judgement.”
Rook barely managed a sarcastic laugh, while certain… parts of his body twitched. “Fucking is how you make babies.” He stated, matter-of-factly, purposely annoying.
The preacher growled, and shook the younger man’s collar, threateningly. “Stop with that ungodly crudeness. It won’t get you anywhere.”
The former-Deputy bared his teeth. “You sure? Will it get you to shut up?”
A sudden pause in the verbal stand-off came washing over them both. Joseph was taking a moment to find the right words. Rook was taking a moment to enjoy the scenery. His body only got hotter.
Rook found his gaze flickering to Joseph’s lips. There was something about them. He hated that mouth. He hated the words that came out. He hated the expressions that were displayed. But he loved to look at them. And look at them, he certainly had.
No lying to himself, remember? He made a pact.
An idea popped into the forefront of his mind. One that had been brewing since he had first saw the other man and had only grown stronger the longer he stole glances. The idea had grown taller, as he heard that voice of Joseph’s grow louder.
The idea burned so brightly in his brain, that he couldn’t help the soft snarl that came out next: “With your mouth on mine, there’s less bullshit coming from it.”
The older man’s eyes widened, and, immediately, he glanced down at Rook’s own mouth, the lips slightly parted, a tongue slightly poking out, as it licked quickly over the skin there.
The air between them became heavier, with this idea laying leisurely around in the atmosphere. Their faces became closer and closer, as they accidentally leaned into each other, almost like something was pushing them from behind and pulling them together.
When their faces were only inches apart, they stopped. Another stand still.
Their breath exchanged as they both breathed heavily, and it felt more intimate than anything else they had ever experienced, especially Rook.
Which was weird because that affair with the Preachers son was intense as fuck.
Nothing compared to this. Any small drizzle of an electrical current was absolutely fucking nothing compared to this. It felt like sparks were everywhere, it felt like the whole bunker was going to explode, it felt the second Collapse was coming.
It was Rook that lunged forward. His arms shot up to wrap around Joseph’s neck, his body pressing forward and up, so that they were both standing up-right. Joseph quickly put his hands on Rook’s waist, accommodating for the sudden ‘attack’.
The kiss was passionate, and wild. Full of tension, and hateful, yet affectionate, clashes of mouths.
Rook hadn’t felt this good in a long time. He hadn’t felt this drive to be close for so long. Well, if it was new for Rook, for Joseph, it was practically revolutionary. He almost never struggled with Lust. He had had it crossed from his body so quickly. Now, it was all coming in a rush. And, suddenly, this kiss was not enough.
It wasn’t enough. They both wanted more. They needed more contact, more movement, more clashes of skin.
Surprisingly, it was Joseph that started to move this time. Without breaking this kiss, he urgently guided Rook to the couch behind him, pushing at his hips, insistently. And Rook went ever-so-willingly.
Rook expected Joseph to shove him down, but, instead, he gently twisted them round so that Joseph could sit on the couch, and pull Rook on top of him, letting him spread his legs to accommodate Joseph’s thighs.
Yeah, this felt good. This felt right. The kiss slowed down, but their hands sped up, touching and pushing at different parts of each other’s bodies.
Finally, he shut the fuck up.
Joseph let out a quiet moan, as Rook gently squeezed his thigh. In retaliation, Joseph slipped his hands down the back of Rook’s camo cargo pants, dragging his hands along new territory. That caused a sudden, almost involuntary jolt of the hips forward from Rook.
Things only got more competitive from there.
Once again, they were at war.
And you were lecturing me on Lust, Joseph Seed? he thought.
#tadaaaa#i hope you liked it :D#joseph seed x deputy#joseph seed x male deputy#joseph seed#male deputy#deputy rook#the bunker ending#far cry 5 fic#far cry 5#fc5#tell me what you thought of it#i love any kind of feedback :)
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Anonymous:
Hey there, could you do Obito comforting his s/o when they're jealous bc they think Obito hasn't got over rin yet? Thank you^^
The night is cold, really cold. A typical winter one, with a big snowfall hitting the windows of your darkroom. The watch says four o'clock in the morning when you wake up to the sound of a soft, trembling, anguished voice.
Hugging Obito’s chest you feel safe, enjoying his body heat, the firmness of his muscles. The closeness of your naked body is all you need to be relaxed until you realize that the noise is coming from him. He keeps one arm around your figure, getting you closer to him constantly, and your faces are confronted. Your nose is resting on his pectorals, and when you feel him babbling, you place small kisses on his skin to calm him down.
“Ka..shi … no…”
“Obi… shhh it’ s okay shhh”
“No… nt… ashi… ple…”
“It’s just a nightmare, I’m here with you.”
“Rin… Ri… ve you…”
Even if it was a product of his subconscious, the fact that Obito dreams about his old love, the one which almost dragged him into madness, is something you can’t get used to. The insecurities that this generates in you are huge, and although you usually keep things under control, on occasions like this, it is not the case.
“Obito wake up.”
“…ve you… ve you…”
“ Obito!”
“RIN DON’T LEAVE ME!”
The Uchiha awoke in shock, with a layer of cold sweat covering his body, and his shaking form. In his grip, you found yourself tense, with your teeth tightly clenched and your eyelids pressed against each other. Suddenly, one half of you just wanted to get away from him and his arms. The other half wanted to hold on strongly to him, dig your nails into his skin and scream in his face to forget about that damn woman because she is dead.
While your mind is trying to say in which direction to take the situation, it is Obito who takes the reins, and gets out of bed, undoing the embrace he had with you. Without looking at you, he goes to the edge of the mattress, puts on his underwear, and leaves the room.
Lying down, you listen to the bathroom door open and the tap on the sink turns on. The water eventually stops running, a sign that Obito has turned it off, but several minutes go by and he doesn’t come back to you.
Stressed by his behavior and with increasing anguish in your stomach, you get up, put on his T-shirt, and go in search of him. You don’t find him in the bathroom, but on your balcony, exposed to the freezing cold of the early morning, barely dressed. His body doesn’t even shiver in the face of the weather, and you can’t help but wonder what horrible things this man has lived through in his life to be immune to a deadly frost.
“Obito please go back to bed. It’s freezing and you have no clothes.”
Looking over his shoulder, he spoke.
“Why do you act as if it doesn’t affect you?”
Knowing exactly what he meant, there was no point in trying to deny it.
“I don’t act… but it’s not my place to recriminate you about these things… I don’t know what you’ve been through.”
“But you can be in doubt, you can be in fear. I feel the tension every time I wake up after a nightmare.”
He turned on his heels, went back inside, and closed the balcony door behind him.
“You always say her name… that you love her, not to leave you. It’s just… I’m here, I’m with you, but it’s like you keep running after her despite my presence…”
“[Y/N]… I can’t deny that Rin was my first love, she was… really changed my life, a painful turning point. Her death… her death was a heartbreaking event, and I only avoided falling into a spiral of madness and darkness because of you. We have been together for many years, and I have never explained to you one bit of the hell that came before our relationship…”
“I just… need… to know that you really are choosing me. That you love me, Obito, that your mind is not still in the past, even if your words say otherwise.”
“You were my lifeline [Y/N], you are my lifeline. If you hadn’t come, by now I would probably be trying to destroy the world, humanity, or causing a world war, who knows. What I am trying to say is, even though my fears are filled with my first love because I could not protect her… you are the love of my life. The ultimate, the only, and the one that really matters. I love you so much that sometimes I act like an idiot and immature child as if I were someone else. That’s the effect you have on me, that no one else but you would ever have. You’re the only person I want by my side, and if you weren’t here… I can’t imagine myself in that situation.”
“How do you make me love you so much?”
“I have some talents… now please can we go back to bed because you look very pretty with my shirt on and I really need to hug you to sleep… I’m exhausted.”
“Of course you are.”
#uchiha obito#obito x reader#obito uchiha x reader#obito#x reader#naruto imagines#naruto shippuden#naruto x reader#obito scenario#obito imagine
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SOMEBODY SAID LONG HAIRED KEVIN AND BRAIN WENT BRRR SO HERE WE ARE
this is 1.6k of daysten, no nsfw beyond undetailed kissing, this is my first fic so pls be nice to me ❤️
It all starts when Kevin doesn’t feel like going for a haircut. Exy season is busy with games and interviews and appearances and everything else, and he just doesn’t have time to get to a salon. Plus, Kevin has to admit that he kinda likes how it feels when his bangs brush against his cheekbones.
There are some downsides to growing his hair out, though. For one thing, hair in the eyes in the middle of a game is not helpful for winning. He keeps having to pause to brush hair out of his eyes, and it’s getting in the way of his playing. Renee notices him eyeing her neatly pinned hair after a game one day, and the next morning Kevin finds some clips in his game bag.
The clips have some minor setbacks, though. Renee has a certain aesthetic, which her style mirrors. When Kevin walks into practice with sparkly butterflies in his hair, Nicky wolf-whistles and Seth bursts out laughing. Not the reaction Kevin was hoping for, but exactly what he was expecting. He realizes a second too late that he tenses up at their reaction, because for once he is actually happy with his appearance, but Neil, ever the observer, must notice his discomfort. Kevin walks to put down his bag and doesn’t miss the sound of Neil leisurely standing up, and the sudden thud of Seth and Nicky sitting back on the bench. There are no more comments about the state of Kevin’s hair.
All through practice, Kevin notices Neil’s eyes trailing him. Apparently, not even Neil likes his hair, no matter what he did in the locker room. Kevin doesn’t let it bother him, just keeps going through drills with Dan like he always does.
As his hair gets even longer, Kevin starts needing new ways to tie it back. Renee is still loaning him clips, but one morning she knocks on their door and Kevin answers.
“Oh hey Renee! Lemme go grab Andrew, I think he’s still in the shower.”
“Oh, actually, I wasn’t looking for Andrew! Can I braid your hair?”
Kevin feels a bit uneasy, but he follows Renee down the hallway to her room, knocking over some useless umbrella stand as he leaves. She perches on the end of her bed, and directs the much taller Kevin to sit on the floor between her legs. He’s somewhat uncomfortable at first with having his back to her, hands on his head, but he quickly becomes relaxed as she works her fingers through his hair and chatters about her day.
Renee is halfway through detailing a particularly interesting girl in her chemistry class when Neil bursts in, shirtless.
“HEY HAVE ANY OF YOU SEEN KEVIN HE’S NOT IN THE DORM AND THERE WAS A LOUD NOISE EARLIER AND HE DIDN’T SAY HE WAS LEAVING AND. oh,” Neil finishes, realizing Kevin’s sitting on the floor. Neil’s toned stomach begins to get slightly red. Not that Kevin was looking at it. “Sorry for bursting in and freaking out! Kevin, I didn’t know you braided your hair that’s so cool I like how you’re growing it out not that I care because you can do what you want with your hair but I admire how long it’s getting and. I’m gonna leave now,” The red has been creeping up Neil’s body throughout his speech until it nearly reaches his ears. Kevin has been watching it with interest this whole time, and is slightly disappointed that it’s going away.
Renee laughs, and turns back to braiding Kevin’s hair. “It’s sweet how much he cares about you,” is all she says on the matter before jumping right back into their previous conversation.
At the end of that day’s practice, Kevin’s been working hard, and his hair is thick with sweat. The braids worked perfectly, but he’s not used to having his hair tied up for so long and is starting to get a headache. He takes the bands out and his hair falls down to his chin, slightly wavy, and he hears a clatter behind him. Neil must be exhausted from the day’s exercises if he can’t even hold his racquet.
The next evening is movie night, and Kevin is in his usual spot on the floor, leaning against the couch and watching a truly awful movie Matt had picked out. Kevin is starting to fall asleep when he feels a body sliding onto the couch behind him and, a moment later, gentle fingers brushing through his hair. He tenses a bit, but the circular motions being massaged into his scalp feel so good that he instantly relaxes again. He assumes it’s just Renee playing, though in his half-drunk fog Kevin notices that these fingers are treating his hair a bit more delicately than they were this morning. Renee must be trying not to wake him up. He naps for a few more minutes, but awakes yet again when he feels the braid being tied off. He tilts his head back to thank Renee, and sees someone else.
Neil’s eyes are crinkling at the corners, but are fully lit up, the way they get when he’s learning a particularly challenging exy play. The corners of his mouth are slightly turned up in a lazy smile, with the tip of his tongue sticking out from the corner. His breath smells like candy and is coming out in little puffs, and Kevin only then realizes that Neil’s face is barely an inch above his own. At this distance, Kevin can see little freckles across Neil’s strong cheekbones, and he wonders what it would be like to trace them with his fingertips. He’s about to do so, when he realizes that would probably be really freaking weird, so he says nothing and continues to stare. But then he realizes he’s been sitting like this for five minutes already and maybe he should say something or at least thank Neil for the braids. He opens his mouth but all that comes out is, “Um. I’m going back to the dorm now,” and he does just that.
The rest of the week passes peacefully, with Kevin chatting with Renee as she braids his hair each morning, and Neil going for a run every time he and Kevin might be alone together, foiling every attempt of Kevin’s to request that Neil braid his hair again.
Luckily, it turns out that Kevin doesn’t even need to ask, because halfway through the next week’s movie night, Neil’s fingers start stroking through his hair again. Kevin glances up.
“Okay?” Neil asks.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” and Kevin is rewarded with a small smile before being directed to look straight ahead so the braids don’t come out crooked.
It slowly becomes a thing, Neil playing with Kevin’s hair. Not only on movie nights either, as Neil has very restless fingers, constantly drumming on every surface imaginable. This has always been annoying to Kevin, until he discovers that removing Neil’s hands from the countertop and placing them on his head results in much less noise and many more hairstyles. Kevin stops going to Renee’s room in the mornings, because Neil lives closer and can braid just as well, if not better.
Kevin admires the neatness and precision with which Neil braids, how evenly he adds the strands of hair, how the braids stay in despite never pulling. Kevin may not know everything about hair braiding, but he knows that if it were a sport, Neil would be the master.
A few weeks later, at another of the team’s movie nights, Kevin is feeling peaceful and blissed out while Neil’s nimble fingers create an intricate fishtail braid. The final piece of hair is tied off, and then Kevin feels a kiss being placed on the top of his head. Kevin freezes, and Neil freezes, and the lights are off, and Kevin is weighing the chances of being seen if he looks up and makes Neil do it again on the lips, when suddenly the gentle weight atop his head vanishes and Neil has teleported across the room near Matt. Kevin remembers the blush he saw months ago with Renee, and wonders if it’s gotten to Neil’s ears yet.
Kevin is scared his personal braider is going to stop doing his hair after that, but Neil is back at the end of Kevin’s bed the next morning, elastics in hand. The only difference now is that whenever he ties off a braid, Neil also places a quick kiss to the top of Kevin’s head. Kevin tries to ignore the mushy feeling in his stomach every time.
Months go by, and Kevin doesn’t act on any of the feelings he’s been having, and it’s driving him a little bit crazy. So he can’t really be blamed, per se, when one night after a game, he catches Neil’s hand as he finishes the first of two braids and brings it down to brush his lips across Neil’s knuckles.
Neil lets out a little sound, almost like a whimper, and then instead of kissing Kevin’s head, moves to kiss him on the cheek. Kevin turns his head a bit, and they’re about to kiss for real, when Kevin moves his head back. “Ah, ah, ah! You’ve gotta do the other braid first!”
Neil is not one to half-do things, so of course it takes him fifteen minutes to finish the second braid, and Kevin can barely appreciate the feeling of the other man’s expert hands in his hair because he’s too busy thinking about what comes next.
When Neil finally finishes, he skips the head kiss, tilting Kevin’s chin up to kiss him flat on the mouth. And wow.
Kevin has to admit, the only thing that feels better than Neil braiding his hair is Neil’s fingers on his head undoing all his hard work.
#daysten#aftg#aftg fic#kevin day#neil josten#also i should thank jake fxcrt for betaing me and tanias server for being nice to me yall r the best#should i make a fic tag#zohar writes#thats good enough for now lmao
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The Letter.
Something momma and me wrote together, the background to this is fact, the solution is pure fantasy. But OMG this was such fun to write together.
Steve came home to an empty house after 21 days working away. It had been the longest stretch working away and he was completely broken. His wife had sent him a message earlier saying she was sorry she wouldn’t be there when he got home from his flight, but not to worry she would be home at 9pm, she was just having coffee with an old friend.
He made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the sofa and flicked on the TV. His eye was drawn to the fireplace and an plain white envelope with “Darling, please read me” written in his wife’s handwriting
Having picked it up he returned to the sofa and gently prised open the envelope, his nostrils caught the sent of his wifes perfume and he smiled at the thought of her. He opened the letter and began to read.
“Darling,
First, let me tell you how much I love you and how proud of you I am for everything you do. You make me feel so loved and our time apart is only made so much better when we are together. However, I’m really worried about you. I know you’re not telling me the whole truth about the hours you are putting in, but I know as you read this letter that you are completely destroyed mentally and physically and its will take you days to recover. But you’re not recovering, you’re surviving, you’re not eating properly, you’re not getting the sleep you need, you’re not getting any exercise, you’re waking up, going to work, eating crap to feed your depleted energy, you’re working 15 hours a day and 7 days a week and you’ve just done this for 21 days. How you’re not in hospital I really don’t know.
What you have done at that business, is beyond remarkable, you’ve single handed built it to an extremely successful, profitable business, but you have to look after yourself. If you don’t I fear you’ll self implode. I’ve seen you when you come home from a tough period away and I can tell you’re just minutes from going down the drain. How you recover enough to face another week is beyond me.
We need to get you back to where you were mentally and physically 4 years ago, cooking and eating great healthy food, loving life, exercising and reading....remember how you used to soak up books, almost a book every week, and we used to sit listening to classic alums on the record player. Now you just sit down and because you’re exhausted you don’t engage with much. I understand, but we used to have so much fun, we’d spend time with friends and family or just being on our own.
I know you’re at breaking point, and I fear that any day I’m going to get a call from your work saying you’ve had a heart attack or a mental breakdown. Thats why, this week, I contacted your CEO and she agrees with me. Again she is amazed at what you have achieved for the company and the group, but she agrees that you’re on the verge. The business will cope, you’ve built the foundations, you have got the staff in there running it, you now need to step away and relax.
So from this weekend, with your bosses blessing, you have a 10 week leave of absence. We have 10 weeks to reset you, to get you back into a mental state that gives me confidence that you’ll not kill yourself before your next birthday.
And I know exactly how to rest you “little man” 😊
On the other side of this letter is a 10 week program to take you back to basics, to allow your brain and body to dump all of that stress and then to slowly build you back up. You will, if you agree, give up all responsibilities and I will make sure you are looked after like the gorgeous little man you are.
Weeks 1 & 2
Regressed to a 9 month old. Momma will take care of your every need, she will bathe you, feed you, clothe you, read you bed time stories, cuddle you, change your nappies, love you unconditionally.
During this period, you are not allowed to walk, talk (9 month olds can’t do either), you communicate by using your hands and either crying or babbling. Just like a little baby. You are allowed to crawl around the house, but you are to use your nappies for their true intended purpose. No phones or computers and no tv except early learning tv like sesame street and in the night garden. Early bed times and day time naps. Me feeding you with a spoon, having all your drinks in baby bottles. Millions of cuddles on the sofa.
Weeks 3 & 4
My little man is now a proper handful as a 2 year old: You can toddle around the house and can use big words, but you still need momma for cuddles and everything else in weeks 1 & 2. You’re still not able to use the toilet, you can watch a few more interesting things on tv and you can play with lego and cars and colour with crayons. Your food is a less babyish, and you love food time and getting all messy with eating with your hands. You need to ask momma for everything you need, even though you can reach the counter top, cookies and treats are off limits without asking. Time out on the naughty step if you get caught doing something momma has said you can’t.
Weeks 5 & 6
Oh my, what a cute little 3 year old you are. So independent, but so naughty, trying to do things yourself and getting into all kinds of scrapes. Momma still has to tie your shoe laces and get you dressed and you still have problems with the potty, so momma is keeping you in nappies for a little while longer. But you’re old enough now to let momma know when you need to go poopy. Where she can undo your nappy and sit you on the big boy potty and wipe your cute little bottom after, and put you in a fresh nappy. You’ll be in a lot of trouble if you forget to tell momma you need to go number two and momma will smack that poopy bottom and make you sit in a dirty nappy to remind you what a dirty boy you are. We can now watch Disney cartons together and you’re learning your abc’s and numbers so well. You still need nap times, and momma needs to still take you for a bath, but can leave you to play with your bath time toys.
Weeks 7 & 8
6 months older and such a handful for this momma. You’re getting much better at potty time, so momma has decided to let you wear pull ups. You need to tell momma when you need to go potty and she will pull your trousers and pull ups down and sit you on the big plastic potty. Little boys who are potty training still need nappies at night and you’ll be wrapped up tightly in a big fluffy nappy after bath time every night. Of course I’m sure you’ll forget about needing to go potty which is why momma will constantly ask you if you need to go, however if you say no and then wet your pull ups, you can expect momma to pull those down and put you over her knee for a well earned bare botty spanking. Momma is going to be strict with you and any rule breaking will result in a red bottom and corner time. But now you’re older you can help momma bake cookies and cakes and she’ll let you lick the spoon. Lots of cuddles with my little man and you can help momma around the house. You’ll look so cute in just your Spider man pullups and dinosaur t-shirts. It makes momma’s job of checking you for wetness so much easier
Weeks 9 & 10
Oh my you’ve grown up and momma is getting you ready to go “back to school” You’re nearly fully potty trained with only the occasional wetting accident. So momma has gone out and bought you some proper big boy briefs. They have lots of cool designs on them. Spiderman obviously, I’ve got several pairs of them, some other marvel prints and some basic plain colours so you can feel like a big boy when we go out. Momma is still going to ask you if you need the potty, especially if she sees you doing your little potty dance. As you’re bigger now, you have lots more responsibilities, you are big enough to put away your toys after play time is over, you can read books by yourself. You help momma clean up the house and do the laundry. And you can help her big person cooking. We have put the big plastic potty away in the cupboard and now you’re using the big boy toilet all by yourself and wiping our bottom properly after poopies. Momma is so proud of your journey to being a proper little man, but understands you still get into mischief. You sometimes still have little wet accidents in your big boy pants and that means momma will turn that cute little bottom of your red and put you back in a nappy for the rest of the day as punishment. You can go the whole night without wetting your night time nappy, but momma knows you sleep more soundly having one on, so she still gets you properly wrapped up for bed every night.
So that’s it my love. I need you to be better, to get you’re head in the correct space you can be a proper functioning adult. We’re going to have so much fun over the next 10 weeks. I’ll take you to the park, we’ll go for picnics and walk the dog and feed the ducks. You’ll get an allowance to spend on sweeties at the shops if you’ve been a good boy. You’ll get to go shopping with momma and she’ll make sure your bottom is checked when we’re out for wetness.
Now the bad news. You’re not allowed any alcohol for the whole 10 weeks. You have to do everything momma says without questions. Any breaking of my rules will result in you getting a proper hard bare bottom spanking. You are never allow to touch your nappy at any time or play with what is in it 😊 Which brings me to “Mommas needs” Obviously momma has needs, that only a grown up can provide, seeing you naked 4 or 5 times a day as I change your nappy, or bathe you, or even when I turn that tight little butt of yours over my knee will inevitably make momma hot in all kinds of places. Therefore momma is going to need you to fix this her whenever she needs to satisfy her needs. I will take you out of your nappy and you will be allowed to be a proper man, then straight after we’ll go back to our plan.
If you agree to this plan, and giving me full responsibility for you over the next 10 weeks, just send me a text with a “Baby emoji” and the words “I’m ready momma”
Love you so much baby boy.
Your darling wife.
He let this sink in for a moment, and an emotional wave came over him. He felt so loved in that very moment that he started to cry, all the stress that had built up was too much for him. With tears in his eyes he reached for his phone and sent the message his wife needed to see.
His phone immediately buzzed back with a heart emoji and 10 seconds later buzzed back again with the following message:
“Finally and you’re not going to like this one little bit. When I get home, I want you standing in the corner in just your underwear. I want you to get a high backed chair from the dining room and place it in the middle of the lounge. You will also need to get the paddle, the hairbrush and the cane from under the bed. I know you have constantly lied to me about the hours you are doing and I know you’ve been going back into work when you said you are tucked up in bed. So I’m going to really punish you for this behaviour so you remember what happens to naughty boys who lie to me. This is not going to be a normal spanking where I turn your bottom red and then we make love afterwards. I’m going to teach you a lesson through your bottom that you will hopefully remember. If you end up sobbing and begging me to stop then I know its working, but only I will decide when the punishment is over. You will be so thankful to be put back into nappies tonight to protect a very sore bottom when you sit down over the next few days. I’m sorry baby, but I have to show you that lies and sneaking around are not good for our relationship and I’m only doing this for your own good. Love you, see you in 30 minutes. Don’t disobey me or it will 10 times worse.
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