#an end sure but abstract and far away

[seveneyesoup]

do you think the time lords even understand death? like really

[nu-suave]

ASKING JJK MEN IF THEY WANT CHILDREN feat. nanami, choso, satoru, toji

word count: 1770

summary: you ask them if they want to start trying for kids. a/n: due to the nature of the fic, it is afab!reader. this was requested by my dearest friend <3 hi lana.

You’ve idly discussed the idea of having children with Nanami before, but always as a far away notion. It’s been something that will happen, one day, but that one day was some far flung, abstract thing that was always just there on the horizon. It starts lurking with you; one day, one day, one day. Would it be today? Tomorrow? A week? A month? A year? The idea becomes more compelling with time.

You bring it up one day after dinner. Your legs are thrown over his on the couch, scrolling on your phone. He’s got a book in hand, the other loosely rubbing circles on the skin of your ankle. A post comes up of a woman smiling at the camera as she makes her toddler’s meal for the day. You imagine yourself in that position; teeth gleaming, a fussy toddler resting in Kento’s arms, pressing a kiss to his mouth as you make lunch for the three of you. The question escapes you as naturally as breathing.

“Do you want to start trying for kids?”

His hand stills. “Pardon?”

“I’ve been thinking about it lately,” you say, heart picking up steadily, an innocuous rhythm in your chest. “About us having kids. What it’d be like. If I’m ready for it.”

“Are you?” He asks, tone soft and tentative. It’s familiar, the same way of speaking he adopts whenever he wants something and is trying to make it less obvious so as to not put pressure on you. It’s ridiculously reassuring. He’s always made it known that he wants to have kids of his own one day, that marriage and children is what he saw at the end of the road. He wanted to marry you, he wanted to have a child with you, and he wanted to settle down and take on a safer job to be there for it.

“I think so. I- I really want to, I think. It’s been on my mind a lot. The idea of having a child with you, raising them together, that kind of thing. We’d, um, probably have a second one a little after, right? To make sure the first isn’t lonely and has someone close in age to grow up with. I was wondering if you were ready for that, too.”

“I’ll have to take on more missions leading up to the birth,” Kento says. “When the child is first born, it’d be ideal to have a lot saved up so I wouldn’t have to work directly after you give birth.”

Your mouth splits into a wide smile. “Yeah? And we can get all those cute baby clothes? I’ll make a Pinterest board.”

“Of course.” He leans forward to kiss you. You’ll learn later that he’s been anticipating the question; he has a small list of baby clothes already on his phone, written beside a list of potential name ideas. He’s got books on childcare saved to his Amazon wishlist, has already been considering how to renovate the study into a nursery or if you’d keep the crib in your shared room. He’s been wanting this for a long time now, but he doesn’t say any of that yet - just pushes his head deep into your shoulder and breathes deeply, the future he’s been dreaming of suddenly resting right in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want to start trying for kids?”

Asking Choso this point blank out of nowhere isn’t your smartest idea. Choso is notoriously family-oriented. He loves Yuuji, adores just the idea of having brothers and is steadfast on being a good example and dedicated sibling. His adoration for family combined with the care and thought he dedicates to raising Yuuji right has you convinced he’ll be a good father. It isn’t hard to imagine, and coupled with your own want, you figure you can’t go wrong. What’s the worst he’ll do? Say no?

“You want to have a kid with me?” He repeats, soft and reverent and warm. He leans further into you from where he lies on top of you, head cradled against your collarbone as you’re sandwiched between him and the couch. With every breath, you ruffle the top of his hair.

“Yeah?” You ask, like that was ever a question. It wasn’t for the record - from the moment you and Choso started dating, you knew you were going to marry him. Once again, considering the fact that if he were a sim he’d have the traits of family-oriented, loyal, and cat lover, children were the natural progression. It was never a question of if with Choso. It was always when. If things go your way, the when will be now. “Of course I want to have kids with you. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, “I didn’t think you’d want to have a kid with me. You really want to?”

“Duh.” You bite back a smile. “Do you?”

“Of course. I’ve–” he swallows. “Do you think I’d be a good dad?”

“The best,” you promise. “Just look at how you look after Yuuji. You care so much for him, how could it be any different for our child?”

Our child. He mouths the words against your skin. “I love you. I want to have kids with you. I couldn’t imagine anything better.”

“I love you too.” Your hand winds its way into his loose hair, resting lightly on the back of his neck. “And really? You can think of nothing better?”

“Yuuji will be excited to be an uncle,” he muses, “and I’ll be a dad. I’m going to raise them right.”

“Obviously. With you in their life, they’ll never go a day thinking they’re unloved.” Your nails dig into his skin, a warm smile pressing into the top of his head. Choso is right; you can’t imagine anything better, either.

“Satoru,” you start, voice soft with sleep. He stirs beside you, his hair a mess on the pillow and arms warm around you.

“Hm?” He replies, a slight rasp accompanying the sound.

“Do you want to start trying for kids?”

“Wha–” the sound that escapes him is small, confused, as he sits up slightly, dislodging your comfortable position cuddled up to him. He squints at you, bright blue eyes framed by his long white lashes, glazed slightly from his half-asleep state. “What did you say, baby?”

“Do you want to have a kid with me?” You repeat patiently, fondness rushing through you and settling just under your skin. “It’s been on my mind. Don’t you think it’d be nice to have a mini-me running around?”

“Mini-you? It’s way more likely to take after me.” He yawns, jaw clicking with the action. “It’d be cute. What brought this on?”

“I want to have kids,” you admit. “I really, really want to have them with you. You’re the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Is it really so surprising I want to have a kid with you, too?”

“Nah, I just-” he rolls his shoulder, collapsing back into bed beside you. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” His hand, warm and soft, slides underneath your shirt to pull you closer, resting on the small of your back. “I’ve got the money to raise one. The higher-ups would be annoying about it - they’d want it to end up exactly like me.”

“Don’t call our future child an it,” you admonish, “and I trust you to keep them protected from that. I know you’re strong, but I trust you enough to raise them right. To never make them feel like they’re not good enough.”

“‘Course.” He watches you blearily, eyes half-lidded. His pupils are blown out like a cat, his every movement grace and agile, languid like a lounging cat in the sun. “When… when would you want to have a kid?”

“The near future would be nice,” you admit, shuffling closer to take your head under his chin.

“Now?”

“That’d be ideal.” He hums, pressing forward until he’s rolling you on his back. “I didn’t mean right now. It’s late, you have work in the morning.”

“Don’t care.” He settles his weight against you, legs twining with your own as his arms settle at your sides. “No time like the present. There’s no point in waiting around.”

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur fondly, hand moving to cup his cheek. “And ridiculous. So ridiculous.”

Toji, you’re a little nervous to ask. He already has Megumi, and you’ve seen how he is with him. Well-meaning, but to this day a little awkward - he spoils that kid rotten, cheers when Megumi takes his first steps, rubs his hair and pinches his cheeks every time Megumi babbles something vaguely intelligible. He tries his best, but he also disappears for days on a job. He looks at Megumi and sees his dead wife some days. Others, he watches his son and sees the child he could have been, if he’d been just a little luckier in the genetic category. Still, you want to know. “Hey, Toji?” You ask, using a fingertip to draw circles on his pec as your head rests so his heart beats beneath your ear. “Would you want to try for a kid with me?”

His grip on your waist tightens, fingers spasming as they dig into your skin. “You wanna have a kid with me?”

“Mm.” Your eyes droop shut, attempting to ignore the way your breath heaves from your lungs. “I know you have Megumi, but don’t you think it’d be nice for him to have a sibling? I’ve been thinking about it… how nice it’d be to have a baby girl or boy. He’d be such a doting older brother.”

“The kid can barely speak,” he snorts. “I’m not sure he even knows what a baby is.”

“Hush, you.” You scold. “Would you be open to having another kid?”

He’s silent for a long moment. As the seconds draw on, the circles you draw onto his skin grow quicker, a little more aggressive as your nerves build. “If it’s you, I’d have another.”

You pause, biting back a silly little smile. Considering you try to smother it in his shoulder, you doubt you did well hiding it. “Yeah? You’d have another kid, just for me?”

“Just for you, mama.”

You flick his shoulder. “Good. I’m glad.”

“You really thought I’d say no?”

“Don’t pull that with me. For a moment, I’m pretty sure you thought you would say no.”

He groans. “You’ve - what did that one friend say? - domesticated me. I’m a changed man.”

You laugh into his skin, a flattered giggle that sounds younger than you’d expected. “You’re so dumb, Toji.”

hi <3

[diejager]

Hello hellooooooo

I hope you are doing great !!

(I was waiting patiently for your requests to be open again lmao)

So, my brain was just thinking of something for monster!141 and I just need to share it somewhere 😵‍💫

As you may know, penguins' love language is giving pebbles to their loved ones

Penguin hybrid!Hunter just giving monster!141 pebbles and little rocks to show them that they love them 🥹

Alright, I'll go back to my knitting now BYE

*gets out by the window with a parachute*

Pebbles Cw: weird courting, tell me if I missed any.

You didn’t have any noticeable differences to a human, having the appearance of any human with a some quirky and funny behavioural traits that all of them enjoyed. You had your moments of oddity, but you didn’t seem that far from a human, having no tail, ear or horns, your skin as smooth and soft as any. They dropped their suspicions of you being a hybrid, a monster or even an inter dimensional creature of some unknown source.

And somehow, they find small trinkets - small, round pebbles picked out of a bunch to be perfectly rounded, smooth edges and glistening under the light, and sticks, long and robust, but small enough to sneak into the base without being caught - placed in the areas they often found themselves frequenting.

Price would find a cluster of pebbles on his desk, arranged neatly in a ring, a curious little thing that he shrugged off, putting them away for the time he’d be able to catch the culprit red handed in the act. Price chucked it up to being Soap and Gaz pulling a prank on him, an unsuspecting and benign trick for a little laugh between them, he didn’t bother with it too much.

Ghost found his small collection of sticks and rock on the books he liked to read, placed near the corner of his desk in his office, the arrangement was neither crude nor clean, it was a chaotic abstraction that he didn’t understand.He didn’t know what to make of it, no one would be brave enough - stupid enough - to pull something like this on him and on his stuff without knowing the risks they put themselves in.

Soap and Gaz had a few placed that belonged to them alone, like their rooms or their locker in the armoury, small areas that everyone knew was theirs. Gaz was the first of the two to find flowers and pebbles in the top compartment of his locker, picked with utmost care to keep the petal from bending. Soap found his collection of sticks and flowers stitched in a pretty crown placed around the collar of his vest, a little present full of romance and adoration. Both of them couldn’t help but find this weird act endearing.

Until Price saw you rush out of his office, a sweet, love-filled smile plastered on your face as if you’d been given the miracle of your life. If he pushed the thought farther, he could almost see a little tail wagging behind you, oh so overzealous and overjoyed with something you did. Peaked by it, he looked into his room and caught the bright petals of a daisy gently placed in the middle of a wreath of stick. He looked at it with a renewed aww and curiosity, feeling your affection roll of your intricate design, made and catered to him as if you’d made each and every single one of his boys a little courting gift-

It was an instinctual courting behaviour seen in monsters and hybrids alike. It stopped him in his tracks, causing him to question himself and your file, he’d been sure that you were human through and through, holding not a single ounce of monster blood in your veins, you’d done tests. Tests, he had to remind himself that these tests were - despite being physical and DNA tests - noted down if the recipient had any traits deemed worthwhile, something useful in the minds of a battle or in a dogfight.

That would give reason to some missing holes in your file, the little things that made you so charmingly you in every aspect was missing from your papers, reserved for people who came to know you. It warmed his heart, to see you so comfortable with them that you ended up forging such strong, emotional connections that you started giving them gifts. He’d have to take it up with the other boys, tell them what he just found out: your little, courting gifts, your hybrid roots that they could explore and your lovable smile when you’d successfully given your gift, and see where they would go from there.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @mixplara @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @stay-088 @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[chaoticace2005]

Thinking about TADC characters in this continuum.

On one end we have those acting like there are basically no consequences. It’s a video game after all. And if they do leave then there is no impact on what they did- so they can commit war crimes or whatever. And on the other hand if they CANT leave everyone eventually abstracts anyways.

Jax is on the FAR extreme in this side. He treats this very much like some video game players or with the view that since what he does won’t change anything why try. It isn’t REAL to him.

Zooble is closer in this category to a lesser extent because of their more “fuck y’all” attitude. Although nowhere near the level of Jax. For them though there is no point in participating in the games though because it won’t change the fact they’re stuck there. But they do show to care about the others, setting up Kaufmo’s funeral while the others are away. I think their attitude may be more “fuck the game not the people.”

Then on the other end we have the perspective that this is their life as of now, so might as well work with it. Here, it’s working with the system and getting immersed with the game/players. If they DO have to spend forever here, they should make sure their stay is relatively pleasant.

Here, Ragatha is on the far extreme. The kind way she treats the others, the way she really gets worried about Pomni being mad at her. The way she waves to the NPCs when arriving in Candy Kingdom and greets the princess.

Gangle is also here, because she is shown to care about others. She worries when Zooble gets taken, and cares enough about Ragatha’s opinion of her for Jax’s blackmail to work.

Kinger is over with Gangle too, because from what we have seen of him he does care about the others. Any we see him try to comfort Ragatha in episode 2.

With Pomni, I think we might see her progression throughout the scale. At the beginning she believes it’s a dream, and this belief she can escape causes her to worry less about the consequences in the world. Then with the end of episode 2, she’s likely going to float around in the left end for a bit, before slowly making her way to the right. Because if you can’t change the situation, you can change your perspective.

@frilledshark-enthusiast @thecommunalfoolboy because of an earlier post

[the-s1lly-corner]

If you could indulge me, can I ask for something with The Amazing Digital Circus gang, with an s/o who is seen as an anchor for the others? They are strong willed, happy go lucky, supportive, a mediator and ect. Well, could they stumble upon their s/o just having an episode, just crying in frustration and like punching a wall to calm down and go back to acting like nothing happened?

I have a thing with strong willed characters hiding their weakness for the benefit of others.

TADC cast x emotional anchor!reader !

oh ho ho you silly lil fella, you have literally just described my TADC oc down to a T, i am going to have so much fun writing this because im literally just. going to use my oc as a place holder for the reader, just without describing any lore bits unique to them and their design ngl i think i went insane with this one, tally hall music is doing something to me

CAINE:

if you thought you were good at hiding your human despair just know that caine already knows. the only reason i feel he wouldnt initially come to you in your lesser moments of weakness is that he can acknowledge that youre trying to hide this part of you. does he go comfort you, and risk making you try harder to surpress your feelings; risking you to just blow up one day and have your mental state just totally collapse in one go? would you feel put off at the knowledge that in this world you never really have full privacy? that definitely wouldnt make you feel any better. but when it gets to the point where you're screaming and crying in your room and punching the walls he would step in. drags you away from the walls, and if he has to this man will restrain you if it means making sure you stop swinging. hes seen the downfall of many people within the circus, but seeing it from someone he so deeply cares for hits a different way. he may be an AI, but he can still simulate feeling. its a harrowing sensation as he lets you cling onto him. i think he makes an effort to make in house adventures less overwhelming and intense, too scared to push you over the edge but also too scared to leave you with nothing to do to distract you. i think he would stay with you for the night, too

POMNI:

as selfish as it sounds, pomni cant help but feel.. something in her chest. seeing you, the groups beacon of light falter fills her with some kind of fear and despair that she cant put into words. it reminds her that no one is above helplessness, and that at the end of the day youre just as capable of abstracting as everyone else. i think, when she finally sees your fake demeanor finally slip when you thought you were totally alone, she feels bad. i mean shes your partner, and she didnt pick up on any hints that may have indicated your true state of health. i dont think she would try to force you to speak, as much as i want to say that she would try to push for you to talk about how you feel i think her attempts to reach out to you would fall on deaf ears. i think she would put her hand on your shoulder, making you jump back to the present moment. its an awkward gesture, with the jester herself being a little lost with these new feelings... i think you two would just sit in silence

JAX:

similar to pomni, he feels this intense and unexplainable pang at the sight of the most hopeful and brightest person in the circus crumble. ive already said it but ill say it again, its like being splashed with cold water, with how hard that sinking cold feeling hits him. makes half hearted attempts to cheer you up. its not that he doesnt care, its that hes stuck in the shock of seeing the happiest person he knows flip into... this.. for a split second he thought you were abstracting, that pit his stomach becoming colder for a second before he realizes whats going on. ive said this before as well, but jax is not the best comforter, in fact i think he might be one of the worst out of the main cast. but i think so far for the characters ive written for this post, he makes an effort to try to pull you up out of your hole. at least he lets you cry your feelings out, and he wont make you feel bad for doing so

RAGATHA:

stands there in shock like pomni, before immediately rushing to your side and tugging you away from a coat stand you were kicking and beating. hands on your shoulders she tries to snap you back to the present moment, trying to tell you that shes here. any feelings of the helplessness that she shares with the previous two characters is shoved down. this isnt about her, its about you. runs her fingers through your hair, if your digital body has any, and just. rocks you. when you finally calm down enough to be able to form clear words, she reassures you once more that shes here for you. the two of you stay in that position, holding onto one another for the entire night. i think it should be said, but for most of these theyre going to try to keep a closer eye on you and make it a point to ask you how youre feeling. ragatha especially.

KINGER:

it reminds him of queenie. the sight brings back so so so many terrible memories. for a second he doesnt even register that hes standing in the present, standing in your doorway. stuck and frozen for a solid minute before you finally notice him, and you hold each others gaze. finally, you crumble. what was the point of hiding your mounting anguish now that it was discovered by the one you care for most? at the sight of your crumpled form i think kinger would snap back, and rush to your side. he's pause, afraid that you would abstract like the queen, before forcing himself to push through that fear in the back of his mind. a moment where he is not fumbling with himself or shaking; be it because he wants to be there for you or perhaps he still holds some guilt aimed towards himself for not being able to save his old queen, he refuses to leave your side even if you tell him to leave. theres this caution in his actions, mixed with this sort of determination to make sure you're okay. like ragatha, he would make it a point to make sure you're okay long after this incident

ZOOBLE:

zooble would probably be the only one who doesnt make their presence known to you while you're in that state. not because they wont care about you, in fact they care about you a lot. but theyre so unsure of what to do, that they give to you what they would have wanted for themselves, if they were in your shoes. they want to grant you privacy, and to at least keep a shred of the now ruined façade you had been putting on for everyone. if it means keeping it will give you comfort, then they wont take that away from you. they wait outside your door, waiting for the height of your episode to pass before cracking the door open. they dont say anything about what they had just heard, but you seem to know that they know.. i mean they came in so soon after you had calmed yourself down enough.

"are you okay?" a dumb question, but what else was there for them to say? you so obviously werent okay, and you likely werent for a long time. they offer to leave, to give you some time to pick yourself back up, but they also make it clear that they wont go anywhere if you dont want to be alone. the night is tense and awkward, filled with conversation before they eventually broach the topic... i think you guys would develop some sort of secret code. i mean youve been hiding your true feelings for so long, and outwardly saying you need help would compromise that mask you put up for yourself. be it a certain sentence or arrangement of objects, you two come up with a indirect way of asking for security

GANGLE:

she feels so helpless, the most out of everyone. she tries to get your attention, but her words fall on deaf ears, if they even manage to pry themselves out of her mouth. far too weak to pull you away and keep you from hurting yourself, but too soft spoken to bark out a word to draw your attention to her. truly, she feels useless. she isnt able to capture your attention until you finally notice her. similar to kingers part, you fall. she takes an unsure step towards you, hands half raised in front of her as she debates if you want to be touched or not. she settles to sitting in front of you, just barely holding eye contact... she looks down when you tear your eyes away from her. finally finding her voice, i think she would ask if you want her to stay, or if you need anything. she tries to word it the best she can, but she lets you know that she doesnt think any less of you for your outburst. it happens to the best of us, really it does. if you want her too, she wraps herself around you and tries to soothe your shaking form

[yanderegrizzsworld]

saw your post about taking digital circus content so may I request for Pomni or Ragatha or even Jax with a reader who's pretty calm when first entering in the digital circus and doesn't seem to mind everything else happening with how they're just like "hey, that's cool" basically they're pretty chill

Imagine: Platonic Yandere Pomni, Ragatha & Jax with a chill reader

TW/CW: Implied stalking & Mentions of Bullying

Pomni:

With Ragatha's reassurance, Pomni reckoned that everyone acted similarly to her upon their arrival to the Digital Circus. This did ease her perturbation, though not by much & far less upon your arrival to their Digital "home".

Are you alright? Complete & utter calmness is the last reaction the jester expects from a newcomer, yet reasons that you're probably seeking to assess your situation &/or keep focus. It's quite smart really, it means you're less likely to abstract in this world, such an easygoing attitude it quite a quick way to get her attached to you.

She'll strive to stick by you as much as possible, though is willing to give you your space if asked to as she wishes not to be regarded as chafing & will at most watch you from a distance. Expect her coming to you a lot whenever she seeks comfort from one of her paranoid episodes of searching for an exit, while Ragatha is very willing to be a nice shoulder to cry on, Pomni truly feels her anxious thoughts leave whenever she's in your presence & will progressively get more antsy the longer she can't find you in the circus.

Ragatha:

She reckons herself as the peacemaker of the group from being one of the oldest to be there, though one would be forgiven (& correct) for thinking that she seems quite close to losing it at any moment. From this, she always strives to ease newcomers to their new digital home, understanding how nerve-wracking it is.

Ragatha is chiefly clueless upon your arrival. Years of seeing new faces initially scared & addled to this world has made the ragdoll has grown accustomed to introducing the new performers, downplaying the existential dread of their circumstance, whether as so they don't abstract or so her own crisis doesn't get to her is up in the air. She takes her steps forward as she usually does to new people, but doesn't know what to properly say seeing as you're not freaking out about the situation.

Seeing her around you a lot is something you'd best get used to, whether it's a short, simple chat on how you're holding up or talking about nothing within the walls of the tent, getting Ragatha to leave is quite the task. She refuses to leave you alone with Jax, as in her eyes & years of being around him, he might chip away at your sanity, small at first but grows worse over time until it's too late, claiming she's somehow surprised someone hasn't abstracted because of him.

Jax:

Nobody's sure if Jax's frequent bullying is merely an aspect of who he is or his way of coping with living in the circus, it's doesn't matter either way, he won't give a luculent answer. Jax isn't one to comfort a new face, opting to hectoring them until Ragatha stops him towards causing the other's disquietude.

Your breezy attitude doesn't deter him from his usual antics, including said frolics being thrown at you. Your lack of reaction to the prank both throws off the lavender rabbit & bemuses him, just what goes through that head of yours? His motive shift from wanting a reaction from you to seeking to see what makes you tick, what you experienced to make you have the viewpoint that you do, that makes you merely laugh at your situation rather than panic.

Jax sees fit to insert himself into conversations without a need to explain himself & brushes off any questions thrown at him, every attempt to interrogate him tends to end with Jax dragging you off with him, maybe to not start an argument with Ragatha or Zooble or perhaps he got bored of the conversation, who knows what goes on in his head. Any thought of suspect for his behavior towards you is out his head a second later, you don't seem to mind so his mind discerns no issue with his comportment & is what Jax uses as an excuse, true reason for his frequent presence around you.

[cowgirlcherrie]

georgia canned peaches — ⋆｡°✩ 🐎 cowboy! ellie

pairing: cowboy! hitwoman! ellie x black! fem! reader. wc: 5.0K

synopsis: on the run was Tennessee’s peach, who trades a life of discomfort for security with a Texan stranger

warnings: 18+, MDNI! mommy issues, slight religious trauma if you squint, heavy touching, ellie has an accent, mentions of death and loneliness, heavily inspired by Bones and All ( minus the c*nnibalism and gore), dom! ellie, domestic! ellie, heavy use of petnames (peach, sweetness, sugar, doll), stranger danger lowkk…, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, mentions of weapons, killing, black feminine coded reader, running away, taking care of injuries, injured ellie (so mention of blood, bleeding),

━━━ ♪ peach & georgia by kevin abstract

a/n: heyy everyone!! here's a quick lengthy one-shot for cowboy-ish Ellie! if you enjoy it babis my ask button is open and I'm always accepting requests if you want headcanons, etc, but enjoy!! ⊹˚. ♡⊹˚. ♡

✧˖°.

Mama didn’t raise no bitch! Or a conniving little thief either. 

You tested that theory. Your hands became sticky with anything remotely flashy. Perhaps that was how you found out how to survive on your own. Times like this you wondered where you would be if your mama had just been a perfect Mary Sue. Made dinner, taught you how to wash your clothes and braid your hair, tucked you in at night, and just maybe taught you how to be better than a man. But now you were alone, in the hot Texan heat, and it felt like a smack to the face. Similar to her handprint the night she let you loose and hissed that you are on your own. You didn’t wanna cover the bills anymore or hear her bullcrap about how it was Adam and Eve — not Eve and Eve. You grew tired, and so did your feet that seemed to get you as far as you were now. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to smash your piggy bank taking the $500 dollars you spent bussing tables to go and a messenger duffle that could fit 3 heads. No plan either, which was significantly negligent, but your sticky fingers got you farther than you ever could, and they made sure you were fed. 

That would explain why you were stealing in a gas station grocery. Crouched by the nonperishables stuffing anything and everything into the duffle bag. Georgia peaches, check. Canned pineapple, check. Dried beans and nuts, double-check. You weren’t exactly careful, but the place loomed with unfamiliar faces who certainly were too full of themselves to stop you. So you kept going, a first aid kit for the bruises that were forming on your knees and sewing material to fix the rip in your jacket. Well not your jacket, but your dad's jacket. Brown thick cotton over your shoulders to cover the long dress you were in, it was a smart decision. The jacket kept you warm on the desert nights, and it made home in your hands during the day. The little pockets are perfect for stuffing loads of crap you don’t need. With the crack of another can hitting the floor, it paralleled a shiny brown boot. Drenched in leather and gold detailing as it smacked the tile. Left foot – right foot – left again. Your eyes followed the trail of feet, ignoring the can that rolled away from you as a hand reached down to pick it up. A roughened, bloody, feminine freckled hand. Now the mystery girl was looming over your figure, in an authoritative stance, as if her ego had been bigger than her height itself. But she was also bleeding. Her right arm clenched to her hip as blood seeped between her fingers. 

“Yers’ drop somethin’ peach?” The accent sent a shiver up your spine. It was thick and unfamiliar but maybe the word peach, at the end masked her roughness. You now made eye contact with the girl, green eyes looming into yours as you shakily took the can of peaches.

“M’sorry that was my bad,” you mumbled taking the peaches back and tucking them into your chest. You couldn’t slip it back into your bag now, next thing you know she would yell THIEF! and drag you by your collar to the front counter. But the woman was in such poor shape to do so, her freckled face wincing ever so slightly with every movement her body made. She was a cowgirl, you’ve heard all about them in the papers but didn’t take them for the real deal. Her hat told you all you need to know, brown to match her thick belt and blue bell bottoms. Oh, she was the real deal.

“Could ya be a doll n’ grab me a kit” The woman groaned out, pushing her body weight in front of you. Her standing position contrasted yours that was crouched down, at eye level with the material. “You’s a real catch ya know? Put the peaches back in. I know you were stealin’” This made you freeze. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! Your brain shouted you were screwed.

Your hands now moved slower reaching for the kit in front of you, and you suddenly realized how overly close the woman was to you. Almost blocking your field of vision from anything to your left. You ignored her statement, as you shakily lifted the first aid kit to her hands. 

“Peach…you are a delight, but now you listen,” The woman didn’t take the kit, “A camera has been pointed at ya for the past 5, and now you got Tina’ at counter watchin’ ya. You are gonna live up to bein’ delightful and pay for this one thing” The woman was scrounging in her pocket and you took the moment of silence to think to yourself, you had barely any money. $500 was something you needed to make stretch.

“What?”

“I don’ take you for a fool, I’m Ellie, and I mean no harm.” Ellie took off her hat placing it over the left side of her chest at her heart, giving you a simple nod before putting the dusted brown hat back on her head. Ellie this time put a stained $10 bill on top of the first aid kit that had been suspended in the air by your hand. This action made you stand up – eye level with this time. Noticed the girl has a height to her, her figure looming over you as you stood.

“Give me the bag [what?] your bag sweetness! we don’t got all day, dammit I’m hurt” Ellie stated bluntly. There was no more time for jokes or stealing any more Georgia canned peaches. There were better things to worry about. Like the fact that you can go to jail for stealing and Ellie who was bleeding out in front of you. You slid your brown bag off your shoulder handing it to Ellie who swung it over her left shoulder. 

“Go see Tina with ‘er blonde hair, act sweet, say your visitin’ family. If they ask, say the Williams Ranch, she’ll give you no hard time” Ellie started as she was giving you instructions, “When ya finish, keep the change, meet me at my car I’ll be outside. You get your bag – I fix my wound, and you get the fuck outta town.” Ellie finished. This time her look was stern, and aggressive as if she was testing you. Testing your loyalty, your honesty, your act. She wanted to see how you worked under pressure, she wanted you to suffocate from fear. All you could do is nod, swallowing harshly, as Ellie turned her body walking down the Isle to your left.

You took the initiative to make your way to ‘Tina’. Ellie was right, the blonde had been suspicious of you. Asked you all the questions that Ellie said she would, but she backed off once you mentioned the Williams Ranch. Handing you the exact change of 0.50 cents and a hospitable smile, saying “Have a great day.” Tina’s defensiveness changed with one simple title. This made you wonder how much authority Ellie had over the place, questions flooding through your brain as you pushed the door and walked out, being met with the setting sun.

The sun was getting low, and there wouldn’t be a motel for another mile out. Sure you could do the walk but you weren’t guaranteed anything. A whistle brought you out of your trance, belonging to Ellie who this time had a toothpick between her cushioned pink lips, as her body leaned against a ran down red car, with muddied wheels. You jogged over this time seeing that your bag was missing from her shoulders rather this time in the passenger seat of her car. 

“Here you go, what you asked.” You pushed the first aid kit into her hands like you’d done back in the store. Ellie mumbled a thank you, as she nibbled on the toothpick. This time, taking the kit and putting it on the hood of the car. 

“Yous’ as quiet as a mouse, but orders ya take well…Peach could you help me patch up, I ensure you a place to stay and food in return – all comfort no lies…” It took you time to think about it. What did people call this…southern hospitality? She was sweet to you despite not really knowing you but the situation was still tit for tat. You do for me, I do for you. Wax on, Wax off. You weren’t gonna say no to a place to crash, where you didn’t have to worry about the faucet being broken or water barely coming out because the bill wasn’t paid. You were certain her bills were paid. 

“Yes, please…uh thank you!” You exclaimed as you began to dig through the box, taking out a bottle of water from your coat pocket, also stolen using it as a hand wash and something to clean the area, temporarily where the wound is. “doncha thank me just yet, you’re just getting started, peach.”

 Ellie was surprisingly still gentle with you, taking her time to crouch into the backseat of the car, while you sat next to her with the kit on the center console. Ellie took her time to untuck the white button-down shirt, as her hands shakily fiddled with the buttons. Due time, her snail speed started to irritate you making you smack her hands away doing it yourself. The exchange was silent, but you preferred it to keep the awkwardness at bay. Ellie shook off her white button down, leaving her in a white tank top — Ellie this time took the initiative to roll the tank top up to right below her boobs allowing you to wince at the large gash on her hip.

“Holy Sh—”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

“Not my first Rodeo” Ellie continued as you poured water on the wound making Ellie grit her teeth. Tilting her head back as whimpers left her mouth at the sudden coldness. All of it was hard to do when you’re in the back of a car trying to patch up a borderline dead woman. But before you could ask any questions, Ellie took the initiative to do it herself. 

“W-Where you headed, whats yer’ story?” Ellie grimaced through the pain as she held her head against the headrest, pants escaping her lips at an alarming rate. “God…I’m sorry,” You hesitated, you couldn’t even answer one simple question, your hands shaking at the blood that was covering your hands as it just wasn’t slowing down.

“Jeez– I hope a lil’ blood don’t scare you peach, I woulda done it myself baby,” Ellie hissed, trying to stay moderately sweet as she was now gripping onto the door handle, her right hand finding its way to your thigh, squeezing for the endless support. That’s when you noticed her tattoo, a death’s-head hawkmoth, and vines. Beautiful, yet chaotic, she had a story. Ellie squeezed again your thigh again making you look back at her. “Eyes up here baby [sorry] where [shit] ya’ from?” You couldn’t lie, the rifle at the back of her car taunting you. If she wanted to kill you she certainly would have done it by now. She wasn’t a threat, and she proved that in the store.

“I’m from Tennessee, I’ve been traveling on foot. I’m runnin’ away” You confessed as Ellie nodded her head in response, Your accent was slight, barely noticeable making more sense in Ellie’s head at why you struck her as different. Your beautiful brown skin glowing under the setting sun, you were a beauty to her. “Figured, how old?” Ellie questioned as you continued to stay frozen, eyes on her face to continue the conversation. “21” Ellie nodded again. 

“Thought so, 22” Ellie responded. There it was again, the tit for tat. 

“You seem like a good girl, far away from home aren’t cha. What’s wrong with yer family? Perhaps your mama?” Ellie tilted her head watching as your face transitioned from bliss and tranquility to fear and panic. She knew she struck a nerve, your mama was the problem. She didn’t wanna pressure you, hell it didn’t matter now. You were on your own, like a scared little lamb that has been deterred from its family. Possibly you were the black sheep, different from the rest. Ellie, once again, didn’t wanna pressure you. 

“You look like you need someone to take care of ya, don’t worry Peach I’ll take care of you” Ellie whispered, her voice all velvety like icing a chocolate cake. Smooth and sweet with care and caress. Ellie was unlike others you’ve met. Or any ex-lover you had. This time you weren’t afraid to let her in or take care of you. Hell you wanted that, you’ve been craving it for all years of your life while you had to do it for others. Maybe it was time someone exchanged the favor. The good karma bell rang in your ears, as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Make sure you cared for, if you let me” Ellie whispered some more, her hands this time traveling to your waist, giving a gentle squeeze, to which you could only hum in response. She was a charmer and knew all the right words to get you sunken in with her. Mama always said to not trust strangers, but why didn’t she feel like one? Her scent was intoxicating all you wanted to do was lean down and sink your pointed fangs into her shoulder, hearing her cry of satisfaction while she continued to call you Peach. Peach…Peach…Peach. You liked that name, no one called you that but considering that's what she handed you when you first spoke, it didn’t run as a surprise. 

Ellie squeezed, “Words, sweetness?”

“Yes” you squeaked, which probably sounded oddly sexual now that you thought about it. Unholy thoughts plague your brain at the sight of the Texas beauty in front of you. Realizing your task still was unfinished you got back to work. Hands working fast as you took your time, threading the suture thread through the needle as it came in contact with the flesh that was Ellie’s loose and separated skin.

Ellie wincing as you dug the needle in, and back out with an exhale. It was a semi-shitty stitching job, but you were able to tightly close the wound and stop the bleeding. Ellie didn’t speak, considering she’d risk completely yelling every curse word and potentially scaring you off, she settled on biting the hem of her tank top instead. Thick black lashes coated with tears at the sudden pain and blood crust. You were gentle though, Ellie caressing your waist as you put down a gauze pad, followed by wrapping it with the gauze roll and securing it with the adhesive tape. Patting to let her know that you were finished. 

“Yer’ such a good girl you know?” Ellie cooed as her hands found their way up to your braids, bringing your head down so she can give a chaste kiss to your head. Right…Right… Southern Hospitality. The feeling almost made you cry. Praise, followed up with affection? Like nothing you have felt before – hell you only thought they did that in movies. Ellie, however, was like a movie. Purley a fever dream, you were scared to fall asleep, what if you imagined the whole thing? You were enjoying your runaway escapades too much for it all to be fake. 

“Let’s get the show on the road,” Ellie gave a smile, making her way out of the back, suggesting that you do the same. So much for not trusting strangers.

✧˖°.

Father, Forgive me for I have sinned… it was blurry 

As we forgive our trespassers…still blurry

Trespassers…clear

You were a trespasser, is what you were getting from Ellie’s narration. Over the 30-minute car ride to her Farmhouse, Ellie explained to you the whole ordeal. Her cowboy hat was on your head as you listened to her tell narration of the cowboys' sealant for the townspeople. Why Tina, at the gas station tried to make you a friend. This Texan desert, farmland was constructed with the passage that cowboys and cowboy decedents protect the townspeople from narcs and trespassers, which in this case you could have been either. Debunked neither. It was one of those towns that people suggest you pass, hell probably inquire why it's still on the fucking map.

Ellie confessed that she was also a trespasser, just like you. Taken in by her late found father Joel who showed her how to run the rodeo. How Millers Ranch, became Williams Ranch. It was impressive, your eyes gleaming with admiration. Then it hit you, why she had the shotgun she did bounties on narcs, drug smugglers, the whole ordeal. People who came in to steal, wreak havoc, and destroy the peace. She was the town's grim reaper. She was the one who knocks. You felt faint, as the realization knocked into you like a brick. Nothing was truly sweet about her, that accent was to mask how with one click she’ll hunt like they were rabbits. You were trapped in her cage.

Upon arriving at her farmhouse which was large enough for more than one, it made you sad to see. She was alone, by herself. No wonder it was easy for her to drag you into her company, human interaction seemed obsolete out here. A dim light shown from what you assumed to be the horse stable, that was rather quiet as the nightfall had put you at ease. You held your jacket to your body tighter at the sudden gust of wind, hearing the weeds brush against each other — almost screaming in the wind. You held tightly onto your bag while Ellie limped past you, with the white button-down rested over one shoulder. Fiddling with the keys in her pocket. 

“Shoes off at the door, watch your step,” Ellie spoke up as she opened the door, you were hit with the sudden aroma, it smelled like fresh wood, pine, and just a hint of freshly baked cookies. It was how you pictured going to visit your grandmothers to be. Warm and welcoming. Complying with her wishes, you took your boots off, leaving you in mix-matched socks with funky designs that you have bought out of quirkiness. Ellie found this amusing. White ones to contrast your colors, the two of you had a lot of differences. But for the lack of similarities came an understanding. A mutual grounding between the two of you. A grey area. Ellie was behind you this time, taking her hat off your head, hooking it onto the wall, your thick jacket as well, and placing it on the hook beneath it. 

“Welcome, home” 

Now that made your stomach curl, you didn’t know what home is, besides yourself and your belongings. Attaching your home to people, not places. It was a wave of worry and fear that hit you. Your feet stuck as it felt like someone took a hammer and nailed your feed to the wooden floors. It was lively and well-decorated for someone that lived alone. Breaking free from your sinking feet you started to observe the living space. There was art, tones of it, stumbling across a photo in the bookcase of a much younger Ellie and an older man with salt and pepper hair who you had presumed to be Joel. The name fit his face well, A small smile creeping up to your face at the closeness of the two. Ellie seemed happy – carefree now that you look at her, that happiness seemed sucked away from her life, she didn’t smile quite like that anymore. Not until you cracked jokes in her car and made her laugh.

“Ya thirsty peach?” Ellie questioned her voice coming out muffled as her figure was far away in the kitchen area, hearing as the refrigerator closed. “I’m good, thank you though.” You put the photo back where you found it, following the trail of her voice. She was very trusting for a stranger, you were already infatuated with the woman, yearning for more. Yearning for her to give you a taste or perhaps a touch. Now you were sitting on her marble countertop, placed there by Ellie as she moved quickly around the kitchen pouring herself a glass of water from the glass pitcher, drowning it all in one go. She wiped the falling water around her mouth with the back of her arm eyeing you in the process, Ellie laughed. You knew her for a short amount of time, but long enough to know that laughter from her was rare – take it as a compliment, you thought. 

Ellie made her way over to you, her hands now on your knees, moving them further apart as she pushed her body in between her legs. Her arms resting on the counter space behind you,  trapping you in her arms.

“Mama didn’t teach you no good...to trust strangers? Oh…Babygirl you’re dangerous” Ellie scolded, laughing as you give the girl a doe-eyed look – your hands finding a  home on her arms. Wrapping your hands around her biceps, as your thumb move up, down, and in a circle. 

“I figured if you were gonna kill me, you already would have done so.” You mumbled as Ellie’s face got a lot closer to yours now. You can see the freckles that decorated her cheeks, her hydrated pink lips from the water she just had, the slit in her eyebrow, and her eyes. The piercing green forest that was her eyes, but it was beautiful, reminded you of the trees that you had seen when you walked. The storm that was your life, before Ellie became your superhero, the knight in shining armor. She saved you, and you owed her big time.

“Bingo! I know you smart peach, and that’s why imma tell you once, listen t’me real good.” Ellie specified, bringing one arm up to grip your chin gently, not allowing you to look anywhere else but herself. Ellie seemed possessive, maybe she lost too many people or her lack of social interaction but she didn’t want to let you go, and you could tell. She needed you just as much as you needed her, a packaged deal.

“You don’ trust nobody that ain’t me.” Ellie began, “Someone’s overly nice to ya’ you tell me. Mean? You fuckin’ tell me. Both don’t fly with me baby, if it ain't from me” Ellie finished, letting go of your jaw to which you nodded. Ellie was a fuckin’ force to be reckoned with, It was like digging into a mystery box, you were unsure of the flavors and layers she had to herself. Hell, she could be manipulating you and you wouldn’t even notice. Hospitality for comfort or comfort for hospitality, it all looked the same.

“Ay Ay, captain!” You playfully military saluted the girl, making Ellie roll her eyes at your statement, you were exceptionally fun. Which Ellie didn’t have anymore...fun. If you classify a night at Typsy Bison as fun then so be it. “You hungry? I can run you a shower before you eat – it’s leftovers if that's alright with yourself?” Ellie questioned and that’s when it hit you, you’ve been traveling afoot all day, and the thought of even having a meal slipped your mind, but you were famished, stomach lightly growling at the mention of the word food.

“I could use food, yeah — as long as there’s no cheese.” You challenge making Ellie back away this time as she took out a glass plate, a fork, and a knife. “No cheese sugar, but something to get you settled – I always have dessert peach if you want that instead?” Now you felt like a kid in a candy store. Dessert was a rarity and boy did it sound delightful right now. Ellie smiled as she watched the way your eyes gleamed at the mention of dessert.

“Got a sweet tooth huh?” Ellie smiled, making you laugh in return. You did have a sweet tooth, anything sweet was enough to bring a smile to your face. That’s why you had a love for canned peaches. The taste reminded you of peach pie that you would get at the diner as you worked a closing shift. Sitting at a booth as you devoured a piece of peach pie, it was heated, like a warm hug in the winter. You cried every time you had a piece. It reminded you of all the good things in life – like how good your mother could be. 

“I hope you have pie” you pleaded, making Ellie nod her head. “You aren’t pressin’ yer luck! I got an apple pie from a good friend of mine, I think you’ll love it – not too sweet, but fillin’” Ellie smirks in satisfaction as she placed one hand on her hip. 

“Let’s run’ya a shower” 

✧˖°.

How were you supposed to explain to Ellie why you were crying? Pajamas that you stored in your bag resting on your body as the matching white tank top and light blue shorts attached to your frame — you just had the best shower you’ve ever had in a while. Not only was the water hot, but it didn’t cut out every five minutes, and the faucet wasn’t leaking, everything was comfortable, perfect. Ellie herself took the time you were in the shower to clean up herself, now in different clothing —  a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants that clung to her body nicely. The two of you sitting at the dining table as Ellie watched you eat the warmed pie, a tear fell from your eye with swiftness. Ellie’s gentle gaze transitioned into confusion and eventually fear as she watched you cry. 

“Oh god, wait!... I’m sorry” you laughed in between sniffles, taking the back of your hand to rub your face.

“Jeez, I thought I did somethin’ sugar” Ellie exaggerated holding her hand over her heart as if someone pierced an arrow through it. Now it was your turn to reveal your story, like how you cried every time you ate pie, specifically with peaches. It made Ellie give a small grin. Feeling as though she did something right in her life where she wasn’t playing god,  It was wholesome that’s for sure. The redhead found it odd, but it was a sweet moment and she understood it. Ellie’s smile fell when she noticed the clock behind your head striking 10:30pm making her frown. The good times she was having at the moment were coming to an end, for both her and yourself. 

“You go’n watch the tv til your tired, I have some business to take care of before tomorrow” Ellie didn’t wanna scare you, her business was taking the grey cloth, as she wiped down her guns and reloaded them for tomorrow. She didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.  

“Can you watch it with me?” You inquired, ignoring the part where she said she had business. 

“I’m cleaning guns.”

“So? You don’t scare me cowgirl” You wiggled your eyebrows as Ellie snatched the empty plate from your hands, placing it in the sink as she let the sponge soap up to wash the plate clean with hot water.

“Fine. I see you jump – I’m goin’ to another room, I don’t mix business with pleasure” Ellie confessed as she was less focused on you this time. You chose this time to leave the dining area, entering the living room as you hit the squared television's 'ON' button. It was small and run down, similar to the one at your moms before you left. You pulled at the antenna to catch a signal. The static glitching before on came Looney Tunes. You enjoyed the show finding amusement in the animals chasing each other and the crescendo of the music at all the right moments, it was comical and amusing. You spread your body out on the couch, laying on your side as you watched the television in silence, laughing every few minutes at something that you found funny. Ellie walked into the room with a black box and 3 guns in her hand. The redhead gently settled down the weaponry, being careful not to startle you, as she slipped into the seat on the far left — your legs now found a home in her lap, Ellie gently sending a rub at your legs. If someone walked right in, they would assume the two of you were probably married for some years now. 

“This okay?” Ellie whispered as you mumbled a “yes” while your focus was still not on her. Ellie could see that you were getting tired, the way your eyes were low, and your breathing slowed down. You were at peace with yourself and with Ellie, this was one of the times when the silence was okay, a mutual serenity, and understanding — everyone was mindful of each other and it was pure love and bliss.

Ellie eyed your figure as your eyes fluttered shut, this time you were sleeping, fully this time letting yourself melt into the softness of the couch as Ellie reached over to her left to grab the blanket and drape it over your sleeping figure. This was also the time she finally got started on cleaning her guns, knowing that you were relaxed and cared for. Ellie wasn’t sure what she was doing, She felt vulnerable and that was rare, but she was doing what she said she would. Taking care of you, like you were taking care of her. You saved her life, and she saved yours, tit for tat.

Ellie in this moment craved nothing more than your lips on hers, perhaps your teeth to graze her flesh, biting…hard into her – wanting to connect and morph bodies. She craved for your love and your intimacy, she wanted you to love her bones and all. Ellie wanted you to love her past, her insecurities, her mistakes, and her wrongs. You were too good for her, she knew it, but there was nothing a sweet peach like you couldn’t fix. 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @subeddieweek, day seven.

Where Would I Go?

Prompt: Praise Kink/Subdrop | Word Count: 1528 | Rating: E | CW: Handcuffs, Biting | Tags: Established Relationship, Sub Eddie Munson, Sensory Deprivation, Softness, Praise Kink, Subspace, Subdrop, Aftercare, Boys in Love

Eddie is being good. So good. Hands on his own thighs, not touching, even if that's all he wants to do.

Steve is stripping his own cock, fisting it right in front of Eddie, and Eddie can only watch.

Because he wants to be good. 

"Close your eyes," Steve asks, and Eddie whines, but complies, closing his eyes.

Now, he can only hear the sounds of Steve's slick hand moving. And Steve is more than aware of what he's doing, because he's added a little heavier breathing into the mix. Some soft moans, and Eddie's dick is straining, needing, wanting, listening to this perfect soundtrack.

"You gonna be a good boy if I let you look?" Steve asks.

Eddie moans and nods at the mere idea of it, "Yes."

"Really, you can be good?"

"So good," Eddie promises, eyes still shut.

"I'm not convinced," Steve says, and Eddie whimpers. "Convince me."

Eddie straightens up on his knees, like he's paying better attention. Keeps his eyes closed, as instructed, and then opens his mouth, an offer.

"Not convincing enough," Steve says, "be good for me."

Eddie isn't sure how to do that, "How?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Steve says, and puts his hands under Eddie's armpits, helping him stand. Eddie shuffles along, blind, until he bumps up against the bed.

Steve grabs his hips, and helps Eddie climb up onto it, and settles him back against the headboard. 

"Hand," Steve says, and Eddie immediately gives him his left hand.

Steve pulls it to the side, and Eddie feels the hard metal, as he ratchets down the cuff and hears the light clinking of metal on metal as he attaches the other end of the handcuffs to the metal bars of the headboard.

"Two?" Steve asks, and Eddie wants to be good, so he offers up his other hand, and Steve does the same on the other side, stringing him up.

"Look at you," Steve says.

Eddie doesn't look, but he'd loved to. Wants to see what he looks like.

Steve's mouth is ghosting against Eddie's ear, "So pretty. Such a good, pretty boy."

And Eddie's head buzzes at the words as they stick to his ribs, his brain, his heart, helping him float away. Laying all his trust in Steve. He doesn't need to see. Doesn't need to grasp.

He just needs to ride the wave Steve's offered him.

Eddie hangs his head back, baring his throat and Steve takes him up on the offer, biting down, and Eddie moans, low in his throat. 

"Thank you," Eddie says, and Steve kisses along his jaw. 

Then Steve slips the headphones over his ears. They are big, bulky, and the cord is dangling, but they do block out a lot of the noise. All he can hear is the buzzing in his own head.

And then Steve's hands are all over his body, touching soft, touching hard, squeezing, licking, biting, sucking.

He's gonna have hickeys all over his thighs, but he can barely feel it. He's too far gone, the pain too far away, off in the distance. An abstract now, only the whisper of it trying to reach his brain, but it can't.

He's closed off from the world. All he knows, all he feels, is Steve.

And he lets himself float.

"You with me?" Steve asks, cupping Eddie's cheek, and Eddie lulls his head into Steve's hand.

"Eddie, open your eyes and look at me," Steve says, and Eddie does. It's dark in the room, but he still squints because it feels too bright. Too everything, because Eddie's pupils have blown-wide, and he feels like he's still adrift. Lost at sea.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks.

"Yeah," Eddie slurs, and his tongue is too big for his mouth. Like he can't form the words anymore.

"You're a good boy, so good. Relaxing for me, then letting me in," Steve says, because Eddie always responds well to chatter. He likes it.

Usually, though, he gives some back. But he can't seem to find the words.

Not tonight, tonight he's just drifting far from the shore. But he feels happy, blissed out, and Steve keeps petting him. Soft and gentle. 

"Eddie? Honey?" Steve says, and Eddie looks at him. Steve cups his cheeks with both hands, "Hi. You back with me?"

"Where would I go?" Eddie asks, and Steve smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek.

"I think you've dropped," Steve answers. "Drink this."

Eddie does, taking a long pull of the orange juice in the glass. It's the best thing he's ever tasted.

Dropped? Like subdrop? Eddie's never even been in subspace before, so that seems highly unlikely. He feels subby, wants to submit, does, but he's never experienced that.

"Yeah, honey, are you okay?" Steve asks, and Eddie mentally runs over his body, checking in to find out.

Eddie feels tired, exhausted really, that floaty feeling of disappearing he'd felt has drained him, but he smiles, "Yeah."

"Everything okay? Too much? Too far?" Steve asks.

"What'dya mean?" Eddie drawls, lolling his head to look at Steve. "I'm cold."

"Let me warm you up," Steve says, and he nudges Eddie forward so he can slide behind his back. He's uncuffed. He hadn't even realized. Handcuffs gone, earphones gone, eyes open. It's just him. And Steve.

And Steve's grabbing the comforter and pulling it up to Eddie's chin, wrapping his arm around him, tight.

"Better?" Steve asks, and Eddie relaxes against Steve's solid body. So much better.

"Do you want to sleep? You want me to hold you?" Steve asks, and Eddie can't make any decisions right now.

It's too hard, and he feels overwhelmed by being asked all these questions. He must not have done it right if Steve is so unsure, if Steve needs to ask him all these things. He didn't do good. He wasn't a good boy. 

"Eddie," Steve says, slightly firmer, "take a breath."

And Eddie realizes he's breathing fast, his chest rising and falling, rapidly.

He turns his head so he can rest his forehead against Steve's neck, pressing in close. 

"You did so good, you were perfect," Steve says, and Eddie tries to take those words. Keep them.

It's hard. He feels on edge, low, in a way he's never felt before.

"Can I sleep?" Eddie asks.

"Yes, sleep. I'll be right here," Steve says, tightening his arms around Eddie's middle, holding him close, safe and secure.

And Eddie gives in to the exhaustion.

Eddie blinks awake, warm and loved. 

"Hi," Steve says, soft and quiet in his ear, and Eddie smiles at the sound. 

"Hi," he answers back.

"Feeling better?" Steve asks, not letting him go.

"Definitely," Eddie says, laying the back of his head against Steve's shoulder.

Steve's stroking his chest, his stomach, and it feels nice. 

And then his stomach growls, and they both laugh. 

"Let's get you something to eat," Steve says, patting him, and Eddie agrees, crawling out of bed. "Take a shower, and I'll get something made for you."

Eddie nods, taking Steve up on the offer.

Eddie stands under the spray, and he feels off. Not bad, but off. Different. He shakes the water out of his hair like a dog, and laughs. Entertaining himself. He thinks he did drop, which, unexpected. He doesn't feel bad now, though, just a little tired, still. Like he could sleep several more hours. Might, after he eats. 

He just doesn't remember much about what happened. He was there, and now he's here. That part, he's not sure he loves. He wants to be present, wants to feel everything that Steve does.

Looking down, and there's the start of bruises forming on his thighs, his chest. Hickeys, and bite marks. Eddie runs his fingers over the deepest indention, feeling the impression of each of Steve's teeth, branding his skin. 

And Eddie barely remembers getting them, and that makes him feel a little sad again. But, overall, he's good.

When Eddie come out in his robe, Steve's standing at the stove, stirring something in a skillet that smells fucking awesome, and Eddie watches from the kitchen bar, sipping on a glass of water. Rehydrating, as Steve demanded with a grin.

Then, Steve's walking over with the skillet in hand, and Eddie leans back from the empty plate sitting in front of him, letting Steve scrape a heaping pile of food onto his plate.

"Thank you," Eddie says, and picks up his fork, digging in. It's some sort of taco casserole, he thinks, and it's really good for something Steve's thrown together in the middle of the night. 

Steve puts some on his own plate, and then comes around the counter to sit next to him.

Picking up his own fork, and working his hand under Eddie's robe to find bare skin, resting his free hand on Eddie's thigh. It's nothing, but somehow everything, and Eddie loves him. Everything about him, and he can't stop the affection from exploding in his chest.

Eddie covers Steve's hand with his own, and looks over at him and smiles.

Steve smiles back, and then winks.

And Eddie laughs, deep from his chest, feeling light. Loved.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @subeddieweek and follow along with the fun! 🖤

This is my last entry for the week-long event, and if you want see my other fics for the other days, they can all be found in this tag.

A couple of my fics for the event were filtered out and not included in the subeddieweek tag, as well as my own tag for the event. I must have been too dirty those days, I guess, lol.

So, here's everything else of mine for the week:

Day One Day Two Day Three Day Four Day Five Day Six

[cowgurrrl]

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester. 

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her. 

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text. 

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work. 

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background. 

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare." 

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?" 

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk. 

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years." 

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable." 

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school." 

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed. 

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine. 

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz. 

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?" 

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says. 

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask. 

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least. 

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me." 

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing." 

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need. 

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head. 

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums. 

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little. 

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic. 

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look. 

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off. 

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say. 

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease. 

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night." 

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again. 

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information. 

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back. 

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window. 

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life. 

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed. 

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else. 

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything. 

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit. 

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else. 

More cashmere, to start. A lot more. 

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole. 

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce? 

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen. 

. . . but like, if he did . . . 

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped. 

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule. 

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice. 

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab. 

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes. 

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice. 

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it. 

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah. 

Tim likes it, he means. 

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going. 

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now. 

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.” 

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it. 

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu. 

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.” 

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now. 

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker. 

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.” 

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely. 

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing. 

Okay. 

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.” 

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.” 

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway. 

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says. 

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?” 

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?" 

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here. 

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.” 

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things. 

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.

[howtofightwrite]

One of my characters is forced to kill one of their childhood friends to save a bunch of people and I'm wondering how quick (or painful) can you make their death with just a knife? Thanks for your input!

I'm not sure exactly how fast a bleedout from a severed femoral or carotid artery is. In the former, we're talking less than a minute, in the latter, death occurs within seconds. Being able to reliably open the artery you want does require a bit of anatomical knowledge, so getting the most value out of a knife isn't something that any character would automatically be able to do.

As for how much it hurts, I dunno. Neither one is particularly high on my bucket list, so I'm content on leaving that as a question mark.

From personal, subjective, experience, the condition of the blade has a bigger impact on how much it hurts. A clean, and sharp blade, fresh from the factory (or carefully sharpened and honed) will hurt less than a poorly maintained blade. In the latter case (or, with cat claws, as I was recently reminded), you can feel the foreign object catching and ripping your skin. It's an unpleasant sensation, and, far more painful than a clean blade.

In fact, my most painful laceration experience came from a hose attachment that came apart while I was using it, and ended up getting jabbed into my thumb. As a safety measure, if you find yourself in a situation like this, turn off the water beforetrying to repair the attachment.

In contrast, the scar on my right index finger was almost painless. It was a brand new knife, which I fumbled. (Specifically it's double bladed, and the handle is a little too short for my hand. I accidentally knicked my left hand on the base of the fore-blade, and instinctively, flicked it away, gashing my off-hand.) At the time, I didn't even feel the cut, and then saw what I thought was a small welt... before it started bleeding. There is some truth to the cliché about not feeling a cut when it occurs, but the blade needs to be in immaculate condition for this to occur.

How painful can you make it, intentionally? This is not going anywhere pleasant, but I'm not sure there's a limit. That's not sarcasm. There is a point where too much pain can cause someone to slip into shock and die, but, for someone with sufficient sadism, there isn't really a limit. The problem is that a knife in an experienced and knowledgeable hand can do horrific things to someone without killing them. If the point was to inflict pain and suffering, that could be drawn out for day. Probably weeks.

As for the scenario, I have reservations. I'm reading a lot into the way you phrased the setup, but there is something very artificial and, more than a little cliché, about the villain strong arming a protagonist into violating their morals. Particularly on ticking bomb scenarios.

In a lot of cases, neither side really gets anything of value out of the interaction. The villain gets a tiny bit of room to wag a finger and say, “we're not so different now,” but, really, they would have done that anyway. And the hero gets to have a chunk of their credibility chipped away, for no real benefit. In this case, I specifically mean their credibility with the audience.

The reason I say that is because this is a downright inhuman thing for someone to do. Kill someone who you presumably care about, or save the lives of five thousand randos. One of these things is an abstract concept, and the other is a person.

Now, the problem is, for you, both are abstract concepts. Your hero's childhood friend is not a real person to you. They are, at best, a simulacrum, but one you know is fake. Similarly, the mass casualty event is something you also know is fake. Even more so because you have already chosen the outcome. This means that, for you, this is a simple trolley problem. However, the evaluation would be radically different for your character. In situations like that, it is possible they'd elect to kill their friend on the basis of there being fewer casualties, but that kind of cold calculus is borderline monstrous.

This doesn't mean that you can't create a compelling scenario where a character ultimately needs to put down their friend. But, it is a deceptively difficult scenario to credibly engineer, and even then, can frequently result in massive plot holes. So, it can be done, but proceed carefully.

-Starke

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[parrythisucasual]

Perfect Imperfections

Pairing: Jax x Reader (Romantic) / Ragatha x Reader (Romantic) / Pomni x Reader (Platonic)

TW: Bullying (it’s Jax.) / Insecurities / Thoughts of body modification?

Content: You’re self-conscious about your overbite, others try to help.

REQUESTED BY @duskisnotactive

**************************************************************************************

You would have thought being digitalized would get rid of this kind of thing. Nobody else seems to have something like this, do they? You stared at your reflection in the mirror, lips pulled back in a grimace, staring at your teeth. Your overbite stared blankly back at you, almost teasingly.

Sighing, you turned away, closing your mouth once more. If only there was a way to get rid of it. You wished you could simply shove your jaw into place, and move your teeth around. You didn’t even care how badly it would hurt, as long as it was fixed…

A small knock at your door snapped you to reality. You shuffled over to it, cracking it slightly “Ragatha?” you questioned, your lovely ragdoll girlfriend smiling before you. Next to her, your best friend Pomni nervously stood. 

“Sweetie, can we come in? You’ve been hiding away for hours,” Ragatha spoke softly, reaching out and taking the door into her hand, opening it fully when you didn’t resist. “Sure… I wasn’t doing anything,” you shrug and retreat into your room, the girls on your heels. You settle onto your bed, Ragatha taking her place next to you while Pomni turns your desk chair around to sit.

“Have you been okay?” Pomni questions, glancing at you with that same worried look she normally wore, the only difference being this worry was more concern for you than anything else. “I’m fine,” you lie, knowing Ragatha would jump on that immediately. Really, you didn’t care.

“Sweetie, that's a lie, everyone knows something’s wrong,” she takes your hand, swirling small circles on your skin with her thumb, “please, tell us.” With a small sigh, you finally give in, “I… I don’t like… this,” you point to your mouth, feeling tears prick your eyes.

“What, your messed up teeth?” Your head shoots up, and you lock eyes with the smug-faced rabbit. “Jax!” Ragatha stands, placing herself between you, “who let you in?!” “Myself. The door wasn’t locked,” he swaggered into the room, one hand on his hip, “crybaby here still upset over their maw?”

You really start crying now. This was too much. You leap from your bed, running as fast and as far from him as you can. You didn’t know where you were going- you didn’t care. As long as you were alone, that's all that mattered. You ended up down by the digital lake, crying into your hands. 

You didn’t know how long you were there, alone, but it felt like hours. Not that time mattered in a place like this. Nothing did. You wondered if abstracting was really all that bad…

“Hey, toots.” That voice. You turned, and there he was in all his (lack of) glory. “What do you want?” you snarled weakly, trying to sound tougher than you felt. It wasn’t all that convincing, however, because he sat himself next to you.

“Look, that wasn’t supposed to make you that upset,” he shrugged casually. Was that supposed to be an apology? You stared at the water a moment longer, then stood, “Leave me alone. You’re the world’s biggest @#$%head and I wish it was you, not Kaufmo,” your words were tonless as you delivered them. You swore you saw pain flash in his eyes before you turned away, starting up the path back to the tent.

“Wait!” he called, “just… hear me out? Can I get that at least?” You stop, refusing to turn around to look at him, but listen. “You’re different, okay? You dint react to anything I say to you and it pisses me off. You don’t pay any attention to me.”

“That’s because I don't care about you,” you speak dangerously. “I know. And that just makes me want you to more.” You whip around, finally giving him the attention he wanted, “You want me to?! Then don’t make fun of the one thing I hate most about myself!” 

“But it’s what I like best,” he admitted, making you stop in your tracks, “it makes you look… good, okay? And if… if dollface ever doesn’t appreciate you… She's an idiot.” He finally stood, making his way past you, patting your head as he did so, “because I’d never take you for granted, okay? Anyways see ya later toots.” 

You watched him leave, back to his normal self. But something made you smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. After all, if he liked every part of you… who’s to say there isn’t something more to him too?

[silverskye13]

I'm curious- though if this is a spoiler obv feel free to not answer- but I'm curious what changed for wels between tanguish's two encounters :0 like sure he'd said he stopped (or thought he stopped anyway) tanguish from jumping off the aquaduct simply bc falling is the worst way to go, but he also didn't seem too keen on killing him regardless- and then the second time he sees tanguish it's on sight. Is it simply bc he dared show up again, or was there something else that caused the change? :0

I blinked and suddenly there was a drabble here. Whoops!

Hels was such a forgettable place, was the problem. Forgettable concept. People. Thing. Existence. It was too far away. Too abstract. {Until it wasn't, of course.}

Hels had started as just a him issue. His other half. His demon. That's what they were, really, at the end of the day: demons. And he had the first one. Or at least he had the first one on Hermitcraft. And he was a devil of a demon. It was all fun and games at first. Rap battles. Stupid little spats. Arguing the ideas of knighthood. His demon was always meant to lose. That's how demons went. They crawled out of the dark, harassed you a little, and then you vanquished them. Sure, their world was devoid of true death, permanent death, but banishing a demon to hels surely sufficed.

But his demon kept coming back.

Worse. He kept coming back stronger.

Welsknight didn't know much about demons, except that he had one, and in all the books and knights' tales they were supposed to be vanquishable, but his demon wasn't following the rules. Or his demon was making his own rules. Or all those stories lied. {Or the demon was right, and he wasn't actually a loyal, brave and true knight, but demons lied. That's what they did. So that couldn't be true. Could it?}

This was all getting rather complicated, and it really wasn't supposed to be.

Anyway the point of all this was, as was the nature of all personal calamities, Welsknight forgot other people could struggle. Forgot other demons existed. Forgot hels was a place. And places make people and people make places, and if everyone has a struggle then everyone can have a demon, he wasn't special. This wasn't a persecution just for him, just to prove he was worthy, prove he was a knight {and he wouldn't be upset about that, because that would be horrible. Imagine being the only man alive with a personal demon! There are some things that go beyond feats of chivalrous glory and straight to self flagellation and he wasn't going to do that.}

Anyway. Meeting his personal demon on the road, and finding he didn't stand there alone, had been something. Mostly it had been a reminder: hels is a place, you're not alone and that's bad.

Then he'd seen the creature again. Not his demon. The other demon. And that was very bad. Whose demon was it? What was it doing here? And more importantly: how much worse would it get? Because his demon got worse. His demon got much, much worse.

His demon had started as a soft, bitter voice in the back of his head. And then it was a loud, bitter voice. And then a compliant, living one. One that would humor his explorations into why a demon would even persecute him in the first place. One that grew tired of those games with startling rapidity. One that looked at him, a thing made to vanquish demons, and found him altogether unimpressive. More than that, it found him repulsive, but not in the way darkness is repulsed by light but in the way a tiger is repulsed by a songbird with a broken wing, something inherently beneath it, not worth its time.

What a miserable existence, that the nemesis the universe gives you finds you pathetic. Reminds you, at every turn, you're pathetic. A creature that looks like you, speaks like you, acts like you, that wishes with every fiber of its being it wasn't you. A creature made in your image to hate you. And you aren't even worth its time.

And it will only ever get worse.

He thought he had it mastered, or at least cornered. Thought he had it shelved away where it could only harm him when he dragged it out. He nearly had it vanquished and then it walked into his world again unbidden and with company.

Well, he hadn't lied the day him and his demon had met. No one threatens his home. No one threatens his friends.

The Code of Chivalry is very clear.

Thou shalt make war against your enemy without cessation or mercy, for you are the defender of Light and Good in the face of Evil.

Even his demon's tenets demand a price in blood.

At his first meeting with the creature he stayed his hand, because it seemed weak, because it insisted it was harmless. But as it parted, it struck him where his armor was weakest.

You two really are a lot alike.

Welsknight was not his demon.

But he recognized its voice. The mockery of the face. He would warn Tango. And when Tango, like he had been, was clearly beguiled by this thing that pretended to be harmless, tried to protect it. When Tango fell to the same follies Welsknight had with his own creature, believing himself invincible in the face of something even the universe only halfway believed in. When Tango disregarded his advice, spurned his concerns, and continued on his reckless course, Welsknight knew what he had to do.

No crusade is ever undertaken lightly, but some things, for the good of all, must be done.

He just prays he isn't too late.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 19.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 7.8K

Warnings: oh hey, everybody likes smut, right? Good. Phone sex and swear words for grown-ups. Texting without proper spelling or punctuation.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Part 1, ….. Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Links: Masterlist

It was the first morning in a long while that you woke up alone.

There had never been any definite decision made on which side of the bed was yours and which side was his; but Baekhyun’s side of the bed was cold.

It only took you a second to recover from the disappointment that surged through you. You’d reached a hand out to touch his skin and all that brushed over your fingertips was the flat lifeless bedspread that covered your bed.

After the disappointment came a quick judgment on your own silliness.

You’d just been with him yesterday. You ought to have had your fill of him by now, with as much of him as you’d had lately.

With the slip of your hand over the expanse beside you on this bed, your fingertips brushed higher over the soft plushness of the pillow; his pillow. He hadn’t purchased it himself, nor had he played any part in its selection yet if there was anything in this bed that belonged to that man more than you, it was this pillow.

You turned toward it, scooting yourself over the bed and feeling like an addict desperate for a fix, you turned your face into that pillow and you inhaled a deep breath through your nose and through your parted lips, desperation at its lowest point — a day after the party junkie licking every last speck of white dust left on the glass coffee table — catching the slightest, and I really do mean slightest hints of the smell of his shampoo. You inhaled again, deeper and slower this time and all hints of that fragrance vanished as if you had only imagined smelling it in the first place.

What a silly human being you were.

You rolled again, this time away from his vanishing scent, you reached for your plugged in cell phone and your hands moved of their own volition easily finding the one and only contact that sat at the very top of your most recent message history, opening his chat window and you typed out a quick message to your Assistant Byun.

‘I woke up alone and hated it.’

Your message to Baekhyun sat unread for exactly ten seconds before the status changed and your stomach fluttered to hear the tiny hopeful ticking sounds that accompanied those three rolling dots as he typed his response.

‘aww… :(‘

‘u miss me?’

‘already?’

‘i was just there last night’

‘you cant posibly miss me alredy’

‘big baby’

His responses came in rapid succession. Baekhyun texted like he talked. Rapid fire messages one after another; sometimes stream of consciousness thoughts of his with typos and most times, a complete and probably intentional disregard for spelling and punctuation. He was your favorite.

‘I even smelled your pillow :(‘ You tried out the emoji he had used, even going so far out of your comfort zone as to remove the period at the end of your sentence. Your next attempt at casual chatting with your boyfriend had you reverting to your old ways. You just couldn't do it — the shortened words and silly faces. It made you feel like an imposter.

‘I miss you. Yes, yes, I know. Already. I feel silly enough having smelled your pillow.’

‘so…’

‘did it smell like me?’

‘Not really.’

‘hehehe’

‘u miss me XD lemme see’

’Wait… what do you want to see, Baekhyun?’ It felt like such an abstract concept that you weren't quite sure what he was asking of you.

‘u’

‘u missing me’

So you leaned into it — your own little silly pity-party. You lifted your phone up, opening your camera to snap a quick selfie. Before you had a chance to scrutinize yourself too much for the obviously barely awake face that was still puffy from sleep, you sent it to him, knowing he would see your bare face and pouting expression.

You hoped he wouldn't immediately know the truth behind that dark look in your eyes that told of things like interrupted dreams of his lips and his touches; dreams that retold memories of the love-making from the night before. Memories that sent goosebumps over your skin and flooded your veins with heat and desire.

There was a noticeable silence after you sent the picture. It went on for longer than you thought was necessary. The longer the silence dragged on the more this feeling inside of your body crested and surged. It was a frustrated sort of feeling; kind of like being on the verge of a sneeze that just never came.

It wasn’t as if it was a racy picture or anything. This was just you missing him. He had asked for it and everything.

After several moments you heard a sound come from within your chat window and his dots were moving.

‘how do you do that to me?’

‘do you want me to come back?’

‘hmm?’

‘i’ll just cancel everything i have today and just come back to you’

His messages had you reeling. A hundred emotions and memories flooded you at once. The shocking way he always gave in to you. The particularly recent things he had done simply because he could not and would not say no to you. He babied you and gave into your every whim. It felt unsustainable.

‘do u need me? i’ll come’

Surely this man couldn’t keep giving into you this easily. With the memories came the tinge of guilt and slight shame you felt when certain things came back to you; like the sex in your office yesterday, but at a deeper level even something as life altering as him asking you to marry him that night. It had all started with some tiny words from you and just like that, as if the man’s head had only ever been filled with you — Baekhyun had given in so damned easily.

You couldn't be so selfish with his love. You surely couldn't take and take from him without giving back to him tenfold. Your heart wouldn’t allow it.

‘baby?’

He was busy today. He had told you about it already. He had some appointments and some things to take care of. Today was the day for him to get it all done. It was the first weekday he’d had off in such a long time; everything that he had been putting off was backed up and scheduled for today. It was important to him and it should also be important to you that the man was free to do whatever he wanted to do with his free time.

‘No, I have things to do today too. I’m just being a brat. I think waking up with you for so many days in a row has spoiled me.’

It was true. You did have things you had been neglecting. You had laundry to finish and your apartment needed cleaning. There were also some personal hygiene things you needed to take care of like shaving your legs and other similar things to get ready for the sexy dress you’d be wearing tonight. It wasn’t as if you didn’t also have things that you really ought to be doing other than guilting your sweet boyfriend into coming back into your bed just because you woke up from that dream kind of needy and desperate for the warmth of his lips.

‘just say you want me there’

’fuck it all’

‘i will come’

‘Baekhyun. Don't you dare. Didn’t you say you had important things to do today? You don't have to come over every time I complain about something. Sometimes I just need to say it outloud so I can get over it. Yes, I miss you. Yes, I love you. Yes, I just woke up from a dream about you but I’m an adult and I will take care of it. I will see you tonight at the wrap party.’

Your fingers typed out a quick paragraph and the moment you hit send you knew you had said too much. Both literally with how very long that entire message looked with the giant block of letters that practically filled up your phone screen and figuratively with all that you had revealed. You knew your suspicions were right with the incredibly long silence that took over the conversation the moment the message was sent.

He must have still been reading it. But then you saw no signs of life after the message status had changed to read.

Your eyes slid over your words once more and you felt a heat and warmth flood over the back of your neck as you read one particular bit of your embarrassing confession — the dream about him. You’d told him that you’d woken up missing him after the dream. There was only one kind of dream that could have possibly had this sort of an effect.

But where was his response? Was his long silence due to you rebuking him?

You read through the message again.

Baekhyun, don’t you dare.

Had your quick reaction been too much? Did you sound too much like an overbearing manager to him?

You don't have to come over every time I complain about something.

Nagging and admonishing. You could hear it yourself the more times you replayed the words in your own head.

Could he possibly be …upset by your words?

After a full ten minutes of staring at your screen, you had to put the phone down. The long silence had gone on for long enough to make your mood go from worried to genuinely anxious.

Another ten minutes had passed as you puttered around your bedroom trying to distract yourself with gathering occasional bits of laundry that needed attention before you heard your phone buzz.

You hadn’t been the type of woman to leap across your bedroom, plopping down hastily on your bed to reach for your buzzing telephone before. Baekhyun had changed so much about who you thought you were.

Sitting inside your text window, silent and unassuming was a voice note complete with the graphic ups and downs that represented the words he had recorded.

You pressed play, turning up the volume on your speaker so you could hear his voice.

Baekhyun was whispering.

“I nearly walked out the door. I almost left and came to you. They called my name the moment I stood up and I made eye contact — I had to go in — but baby…baby,” he dropped his whispers down even lower with the second ‘baby,’ you heard the smallest whimper turning into a whine.

This was a complaint, it seemed.

“Babyyy~” he went on again, “did you really just tell me you had a sex dream about me and you’re going to take care of it alone? You’re making me fucking crazy. How am I supposed to go on? I can’t stop thinking about it, but I really need to stop thinking about it.” His voice was speeding up. “Shit. I hear someone calling my name.” Between the whispers and the rapid speed with which he pushed the words out of his chest you had trouble actually making out what he was saying.

You could make out bits of it like, “Isweartofuckinggod,’ followed by unintelligible mumbles, then “—popaboner—teethcleaned—fuckingarrested,”

The last bit was said in a single dramatically whispered breath.

His message had you giggling and all at once whatever silly doubts you’d been feeling about your boyfriend had vanished. When the message finished playing you instantly wanted to play it again, only when your phone returned to his message window, you saw another much shorter voice message waiting for you. This one was extremely brief. You were certain he was by now, being ushered into some dental exam chair to deal with whatever internal battle he was fighting all on his own.

The second message from him sat there at only an innocuous and unassuming 7 seconds in length but it beckoned to you so intensely. You pressed play.

“Please,” he began with that same whiney begging tone you heard occasionally from him. It was a familiar sound to you at this stage in your relationship. He used it when he wanted something from you and he wanted to be particularly convincing. You couldn’t think of a single time it hadn’t worked on you. Honestly it didn’t take much from Baekhyun for you to instantly want to give him whatever he wanted. He didn't have to go so hard on the begging; even if you did really enjoy the way it made you feel inside.

His begging though…It felt somehow more desperate this time. “Please-please-please—I would give you anything. My entire fucking soul. Please take care of it and let me — oh fuck — please let me hear you do it.”

This request from him had a slow moving effect on you. At first it didn’t seem like much, but you found yourself transfixed by it. You stared at the tiny voice note with your finger hovering over the play button and before you could help yourself you pressed the button again, holding the phone up closer to your ear so you could clearly make out every stuttered breath between each word he spoke. Between each of his desperate pleas you could make out the labored in and out of the air from his lungs. You could hear the stuttered throaty groans that preceded the next words and the sounds of his begging; the way he seemed to lose control of himself entirely with the curse word that slipped in.

You knew what he wanted.

This wasn’t something you had ever done before.

How would you even manage letting go of yourself enough while also somehow recording the sounds you might make for him.

First and foremost the logistics felt like a pain. Were you supposed to record a voice message just as he had done? Was there some way to record yourself and send it back to him after you listened to yourself? Could you even reach your release knowing you were recording yourself. What about the timing of it all? You weren’t exactly a professional performer. Most of the sounds you made lately had felt entirely outside of your own control; had been pulled straight from within your chest by this very man.

Was he busy? Maybe you just could just call him.

You knew you were overthinking it, but Baekhyun had been so sweet with his request, you had a strong desire to give him what he asked for.

You rolled around on your bed, carrying your phone along for the ride feeling just a little frustrated with yourself now.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know how to pleasure yourself. Hell, you’d spent the last year desperately single and pathetically alone; too busy with work for a relationship; too burned by the last one to have much interest in any of the men who’d approached you. When you’d finally given up on ever being touched by some other human being Baekhyun steamrolled into your life completely redefining everything you thought you had known about intimacy and sex.

It was the attention he paid to you. It was the way his eyes always bore deep into yours as he held you; as he touched you; as he filled you. He gave you everything without you having to ask. He anticipated what you wanted; he paid attention to your cues and when you didn’t give him everything silently, he straight up asked you what you wanted; sometimes with his words, sometimes with his hand pulling your own hand down to show him; until you felt yourself giving up every single little secret desire you’d ever dreamed of and at last, as the waves of overwhelming pleasure washed over you, you’d be rewarded by his sweet, self-satisfied smile as if he’d unlocked some new secret of the universe; of you, his universe. It was the vulnerability you could see inside his eyes as well.

His vulnerable raw honesty was maybe the sexiest thing about him. He was your very own open book. And the stark contrast between what he showed you and the false bravado or professional persona that he gave to everyone else in his life made you feel as if you were the chosen one. His very special very privileged precious person; the only person with whom he shared his actual true self.

The dream that had started all of this had been just as all-consuming; just as pleasurable; just as vivid. You’d been so overwhelmed lately that this man had seeped deep into your unconscious mind and even at rest, it seemed, you could not escape the magnetism of Byun Baekhyun.

Your hands were roaming over your body. You’d dropped the phone somewhere in the bed sheets. You found that your skin felt hotter under your palms. The short sleep shorts you wore left your legs bare and the silky fabric of the camisole felt smooth under your palms; your skin was flushed below the thin fabric and a pass of your hands over your breasts made your nipples below the shirt pucker and respond to the light touches of your fingers.

The rolling around on your bed landed you somewhere around his pillow and you inhaled a deep breath from the center of it. You could smell him there right in the center of the pillow. It was very slight again, just the tiniest hint of the scent of his shampoo but the smell was undeniably him. He smelled so good. Everything about this man felt so good; but your sniffing over his pillow wasn’t enough. You wanted more of him. If not here in person, you at least wanted his voice in your ear.

“I want you to listen”

“I want you to hear me”

You’d found the phone and keyed out some rapid words to him.

To hell with it all.

“but”

The status of messages quickly changed to read. There was no sign of him typing a response.

“I don’t want to just make a recording to send to you”

He was reading them as soon as you sent them.

“I want you here inside my head”

“You don’t have to speak I just want you to listen”

Your fingers had slipped down to the waistband of your shorts and you slipped your fingertips beneath the elastic of your panties as the scene played out in your head.

Him looking down at down at this phone trying to keep his face neutral for some professional who made notes about his next appointment. Smiling their friendly smile at his handsome face.

“I want to hear you breathing on the line”

“I want you to listen to me cum”

The inaudible curse under his breath as his cheeks darkened. You knew how weak he always was to you. You had first-hand knowledge of the effects you had on him. Although you’d never admit outloud how much you enjoyed playing these little games with him, you were certain he already knew. Certain social rules would also keep him from openly admitting how much he liked this as well and you fully expected a half hearted scolding from him later for teasing him like this while he was out in public.

After too long of a stretch of his silence your phone buzzed. One short buzz and then quickly followed by one more.

“5 min”

“gimme 5 min”

The first few passes of the soft pad of your index and ring fingers within your own substantial wetness had your breaths quickening. How very turned on you felt wasn’t really a surprise to you. You found yourself so attracted to him that some of your days were spent in a constantly needy state of arousal. It was a miracle you had managed to get anything else done at all. The gentle nudges against the most sensitive parts of you felt better — felt even better than anything you’d done alone before, simply because of your knowledge of what Baekhyun knew.

Baekhyun knew exactly what you were doing with those recent thoughts of him coursing through your veins; prickling your skin with goosebumps and heating your skin with desire and arousal and a steady buzzing against your bare thigh pulled your eyes open.

Baekhyun was calling.

You reached for the phone with your unoccupied hand and answered the call; pulling the phone up to your ear to listen for the moment the call connected; for when the sound in your ear brought him to you. You heard the change in audio. Sounds of the world outside of your bed. He was here now. He could hear you.

“Hi,” you let the low breathy single syllable slip off your tongue followed immediately by a quiet sharp inhale of breath. Try as you might, your breathing had already taken on a rather uneven rhythm.

“Are you the only one who can hear me?”

“Ohh…yeah-yeah. Hyung, I’m on my way out. Sorry you had to wait.” Baekhyun was talking into the phone so you could hear him, but not only for you to hear; although he did answer your question in a roundabout way. He was wearing headphones. You’ve seen him do it before; slip one wireless earphone into his ear to take a quick call.

“Good. Only you can hear me.”

The false words he spoke sounded lifted and forced, “Yeah, I’ve been good. Just trying to get out of here quickly. A-Are you close by?”

His veiled question had your eyelids closing and you felt the smile erupt on your face. You bit down on your lip and you hummed out an answer for him.

“Mhmm, I am close.” The words pushed through the airiness in your voice; giving in so easily to your arousal.

“I miss you,” you dropped your voice and whispered into the line. Out of a sense of secrecy, the words came out softer. Even the long drawn out exhale was a tiny gnat buzzing around the room.

“I want you, Baek.” There was a slow moan that built up in the back of your throat as you dipped your fingers lower, slipping one inside of yourself before you pulled up again. The journey up, your fingertips dragging slowly over the center of your clit made the sound erupt. It broke free. It made your words catch. It made them stutter. And punctuated by another soft moan, the words “I wish you were here fucking me right now” slipped up the back of your throat. “I wish this was your dick instead of my fingers.”

On the other side, you heard the tiniest whimper come from your boyfriend’s chest. The next sound was a hiss through gritted teeth and he quickly turned it into a small cough.

“Do you even realize how wet I am?”

Somewhere in the far distance a wordless voice reached your ears. Just enough for you to register the owner's gender; a young female with a polite inquiry.

You heard a hitch in his breath. You heard a helpless moan. It was extremely quick and short lived. “Mmmm,” Baekhyun oh so quietly hummed; against his will. He could not stop it. Air huffed out noisily through his nose. His soft and delicate answer pulled your lips into a satisfied grin.

That same voice as before spoke again; the tone of voice lifted up with a more insistent inquiry.

“Sorry, No. No, thank you.” Baekhyun cleared his throat noisily and you heard a few labored breaths blowing over his phone speaker, his “hooooo” trembled. He made a small blowing sound through his lips with the smallest guttural whine ghosted just under his breath and the voice asked something again.

“No-no I’m fine. I was…I was just leaving.”

Another question sounded out from much farther away now. “I’m leaving now.” His voice sounded closer to you for a second. Low and throaty and desperate around the edges. “No—no, I don’t need it.” The sound of the man shouting back over his shoulder.

A bell sounded out. A door clanked. Footsteps were moving and lungs were laboring. A curse was whispered just under his breath and repeated. The meaningless expression of wild frustration muttered through gritted teeth, ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.’

“Are you still with me Baekhyun?” The high pitched whine that came out of your mouth after holding his name on your tongue for a moment that happened was out of your control. You could feel the heat just below your skin building into a fever. Your fingers felt too good with how very wet you were.

“Yes, Ma’am. I am here.” he whispered and you could hear how his lips remained parted and he breathed through his open mouth.

“I asked you a question, my love.”

A new sound echoed out. The sound of a car door opening and closing quickly. A low grunt from the back of his throat and the deep roar of a powerful sports car engine coming to life.

“My brain isn’t working right.” He was back to you. His voice was clear inside your ear and you could hear the strain to keep himself level sounding.

“What am I going to do? What the fuck — do I do? What do I do? Ohh — I’m in over my head.” He was whispering under his breath again. He was breathing quite hard all by his lonesome and the sounds of his lungs sunk hard and deep inside your eardrums, making every pass of your fingertips hit harder.

In the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of his car engine speeding up and slowing down, taking corners with a quickness and soon you heard a change as he seemed to stop driving entirely. It was nearly impossible to keep your focus through the sounds he made. Low whines, short puffs of air and complaining grunts.

Whatever motion you had been hearing from his side of the phone call quit with the next sounds from him. It was a deep throaty moan spoken in your boyfriend’s low register quickly followed by a sigh that blew air across the phone speaker and then a slower longer whiney moan. “F-Fuck, baby, what have you done to me?”

“What did I do to you, Baekhyun?” It was too much. It had already been too much for a while and you were trying to focus more on his voice than the building fire inside of your body, even going so far as to pull your hands away from yourself. You’d been too close to a climax and the burning fire spread into a burning curiosity more than a need for an immediate release. You could draw this out for a while longer. It was too much fun to end it now.

“You’ve made my dick so hard I had to pull over to jerk off. Again. Fucking — again. You make me lose my goddamn mind. You have any idea how many times I’ve had to do this because of you?”

This felt like another one of his confessions — let slip during a moment of weakness. Or given to you purposefully because he wanted you to have every single one of his secrets. This was the vulnerable man who destroyed your every inhibition; weak only to you — raw and honest and telling and unbelievably sexy as all hell.

“How many times, Baek?”

He was moaning again. It was rhythmic. The perfect pace for your fingers to slip down between your thighs again. You could not help but match the pace you heard coming from him. It felt like maybe, maybe if you closed your eyes and left your mind drift maybe it felt like he was here; here doing this to you. Making you desperate; bringing you closer.

“I didn’t — keep count. At least — hundreds. Every time — before I had to work around you and then,” there was a definite hitch in his voice, “of course, after. You had no idea. Sometimes I-In the car, right after — Sometimes other places. Once even in your office after you had left. But again and again. And over and over — more than a year.”

This was news to you. He was right; you had no idea. This man, so very affected by simply being near you that he had to deal with the arousal after every encounter. Pre-gaming sometimes, just because he knew he would have to be around you and keep his sanity intact

You recalled a moment, it felt like lifetimes ago before the kiss and the confession and the sex and the obsessive love. Back then, he’d saved you from the speeding motorbike. Back then, you’d felt it, the deep inhale he’d taken from your skin as he held you in your arms after the near death close call that nearly instantly changed into something else when he let that low moan escape. The undeniable heat you’d felt built up to intolerable levels between your bodies where they touched. You’d suspected as much at the time and now, well, you could probably publish your findings for publication. Fact checked, peer-reviewed, and proven.

“What is it about me?”

It was such a stark contrast to every other relationship you’d ever been in. Those men seemed to have a mild passing interest in you. At best, just in it for the sex; at worst, merely tolerant of you until someone else came along, not even bothering to end it with you before beginning something long lasting and meaningful with someone else… someone much better than you. Someone easier than you who worked less or had less pride than you or nagged less or who was easily satisfied in bed; didn’t expect an orgasm every single time and was perfectly happy just to fake it to satisfy a man’s ego.

But Baekhyun was in love, obsessed even, with every single detail about you. Baekhyun begged on his knees just for the chance to please you. Baekhyun was your rare diamond. You would never let him go.

“It’s You. It’s everything — everything about you. Your eyes. Your smile. Your lips.” His breaths had grown ragged. You could hear each stroke of his hand “Fuck — Your hot mouth — your wet t-tongue and ass and tits and your pretty fucking pussy and how good it feels to fuck you. Your scent — My God — your scent. I want to smell you for the rest of my life.” He was lost.

He was lost. You heard him cry out. It tipped you over the edge. The mess between your legs was so substantial you felt it dampen the bed sheets below you. Through the panties and the sleep shorts you hadn’t even bothered to remove.

You shared the oblivion with him and only him.

It felt like ages until you could speak again. After the heavy breathing settled on the other side of the line you heard sounds of movement. A quiet grunt that sounded like he might be reaching for something. You frowned down at your own state, realizing you’d have to get some more laundry done before you got ready for the wrap party tonight.

“Did you make a mess?” Your quiet question to him reflected your own state of affairs and Baekhyun responded with a tiny giggle.

“No, I keep a big box of jerk-off tissues in my car. I wasn’t always so prepared. I once had to hear, with my own ears, my car detailer mention having to break out the precision tools to get the ‘stubborn, dried-up gunk out of the all cracks in the steering wheel,’ and I knew I had to fix my life.”

You were already laughing.

“I don’t care who you are or what goddess you might be jerking-off to. Something like that changes a man.”

Your giggling blended like music with his and lasted long enough for a very recent thought to dawn on you.

“Wait a minute — In my office, Baek?” The abrupt realization interrupted your own laughter but had an opposite effect on him.

He laughed even harder.

“Baekhyun, when did you do that? Where did you do that?” Your voice had a half joking tone and half genuine concern. There wasn’t some secret stain you didn’t know about somewhere, was there?

“Well, I didn’t do it on your Official Employee Performance Review, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His joke was unexpected and it pulled out a genuine wheezing laugh from deep within your belly. It left you cackling and struggling to catch your breath and you could hear him laughing that deeply satisfied noisy laugh that he did when he knew his joke had landed particularly well.

After the giggles settled and you were up and about within your apartment; beginning to clean up both your filthy body and your bedsheets, the time on the clock began to nag at both of you.

You knew you had taken up to much of his time. You knew he had more errands to run before he had to return home to get ready for tonight. You didn’t know the specifics but it sounded like a tight schedule.

“I’m sorry I took up so much of your time.” The apology from your lips was genuine but his response began with a dismissive scoff.

“I’ll always have time for you.”

It was a cheesy sort of line and had it come from anyone else, it would’ve had your eyes rolling; but the sincerity you heard in his voice had you squealing internally instead. You really had fallen in deep.

He inhaled to speak again, “Baby, what do you have planned for today? Just lazing around until the party?”

You were probably only imagining the judgment you heard in that word he used.

“Excuse you, Assistant Byun, I have so much to do here at my house. Do you know what happens to a home when the owner is kidnapped by her sexy boyfriend and locked up in his ivory tower for a week? I have dishes in the sink, a dirty kitchen, a filthy bathroom, a ton of laundry to do. Plus I have to somehow shower and shave my legs and do make-up and hair and get all pretty for tonight. How will I finish it all?”

He gave the occasional hum of understanding as you ranted; letting you know that he was listening to you being dramatic even if each of his hums did come further and further apart and the sounds of his big engine speeding drowned out quite a bit of the important emphasis you had placed on certain syllables for dramatic effect.

The whole thing made you huff in annoyance and you crossed your arms over your chest with an eye roll as you grumpily repeated, “lazing around…” under your breath but not soft enough that he couldn’t hear it.

You lifted your volume for the next bit. You could not help how defensive you felt for being criticized by the most privileged man in the history of privileged men. Has he ever even washed one dish in his entire life?

“Some of us have to do our own chores, you know?”

“Okay, okay. I got it. I understand. You big baby. You are very adulty and very busy and very hard-working and very responsible and not being lazy today even though you stayed in bed until ten in the morning.”

“Nine.” You were quick to correct him.

“9:55 in the morning,” he pandered.

“Nine. O. Clock.” Your emphasis on each word as a separate entity gave you a temporary spike in your blood pressure and you had to stand back a bit from the phone; holding it just a little further away from your face as you briefly considered pinching him the next time you saw him.

“Oh, are we not counting the extra hour in bed and all that transpired therein? Because, my darling, it is 10:25 right now. I am 10 minutes late to my next appointment because somebody, let’s call her Schmanager Smoona, decided that 9:05 in the morning on a Thursday was a good time to send pornographic text messages to her boyfriend —”

“I’m hanging up.” You interjected the moment there was a pause. He’d inhaled a breath to keep talking and you managed to squeak in three quick words mid-speech. But it was useless. You could tell there was no end in sight. He was complaining about being late and yet he had time for the longest speech in history about how needy and inappropriate you chose to act instead of washing your dishes like a normal person.

“— while he was in the dentist chair with a strangers glove-fingers in his mouth, tasting like latex and artificial grape flavored fluoride—”

You let out the longest sigh.

“—what happens the next time I drink grape soda? What if Fanta Grape gives me boners now? Should I seek counseling for this? Should I seek a settlement?”

You had your fingertips pressed firmly over your forehead, rubbing hard as you tried your best to keep a hold of your sanity.

“Baekhyun, didn’t you say you were already late for —-”

“Oh my God, Noona. I already told you I have to go. I don’t have time for this right now. Why are you, like, so obsessed with me? Maybe I’ll call you later. If I feel like it. Kay, byeee.”

The line went dead.

He won.

The animated voice he did quickly interrupted whatever it was that you were saying. He spoke fast and used some sort of silly accent. By the time you had any of your mind in tact to realize what was going on you heard the click and he ended the call; cutting off whatever futile response you could possibly give him.

You stared down at your blank screen in mild disbelief and before the phone could time out a single buzz alerted you to a new text message from him.

‘i love u so much. ill see u tonight. don’t look too pretty i can’t promise ill behave if u do.’

If anything has ever felt like a challenge…

If only you had less housework to do, you could manage to sneak in a trip to the salon. If only you hadn’t just added a whole extra load of laundry to your list of chores, thanks to your mid-morning phone sex adventures.

You frowned down at the fitted sheet, knowing full well that you had to wash and dry the thing separately, else you risked the danger of having it grab up everything else you threw into the machine and catch it all deep within its corners; a tangled and twisted ball of filth and moisture that would not only ensure that nothing in the load got cleaned, it would also include the added feature of keeping everything, including itself, wet and wrinkled as well.

Halfway through your sorting efforts your doorbell rang. You hadn’t been expecting anyone and it had been a while since you’d ordered anything online, so the sound came as a bit of surprise. Perhaps someone was lost?

The view through your doorbell camera gave you more mystery than answers because standing at your door were three young women, all dressed in what seemed to be white long sleeve cotton shirts and black skirts. It looked like it might be some sort of uniform. You hoped they weren’t here to talk about your soul’s eternal damnation. That ship had sailed long ago.

When you didn’t answer right away the doorbell rang again and one of them was leaning forward and speaking into the microphone.

“Excuse me, Madam Byun? We have been sent by Young Master Byun for the cleaning.”

One of them whispered to the one who was speaking.

“My apologies, Miss Madam Byun. Cleaning the whole house,” she said after conferring with her co-worker.

Unbelievable.

Your boyfriend was unreal. You felt mildly amused by this. A genuine laugh broke free from your chest and you leaned forward to press the button so you could respond.

“I didn’t order any whole-house cleaning. Thanks, anyway.”

There was some whispering amongst the three and one of them was holding a phone that she typed a few words into. The one with the phone leaned forward next to speak.

“He said,” she was leaning forward with the cell phone in her hands and she seemed to be reading directly from a conversation she was having with Baekhyun.

“tell her that you will all be fired if you don’t clean the whole house today you won’t really be fired but tell her that you will all be fired if she doesn’t let you inside to clean oh also tell her that you all have been properly vetted so anything that happens is strictly protected and insured not that I think anything will happen I’m not saying you guys will do anything you know I am not that kind of person tell me what she says after that”

She read the entire thing word for word to you. Without paraphrasing. These were your sweet boyfriend's words read without any pause for punctuation or any changes in voice inflection.

You felt as if you were having an out-of-body experience.

The man was both incredibly thoughtful and incredibly ridiculous.

You were tempted in a way you hadn’t felt in a long while. Thoughts of heading to the spa for a full body refresh filtered through your head. Thoughts of simply walking by the sink full of dishes and the piles of sorted laundry and the soap scum covered shower door and walking right out that door for some pampering led you to reach for the door and turn the handle.

When you opened the door two of the three faces smiled at you. The girl with the phone was still looking down at it. She inhaled to speak again.

”well what happened did she open the door did you tell her about being fired all three of you have a family at home tell her you have six kids each that will starve to death there are twenty one lives in her hands no that's too many she wont believe that she is very smart it is not believable for someone so young to have six kids how about two what age do people start having kids look up into her eyes and look sad and say please I have six kids or two kids whichever you think she will believe”

“Stop. Tell him it’s fine. You all can come inside and clean. Tell him we will talk about this later, though.”

Her fingers were moving and she was typing furiously as she took a few steps inside of your apartment to stand behind the other two girls carrying boxes of cleaning supplies as they looked around surveying the place.

The girl with the phone was still talking. You wished she wasn’t.

“oh good make sure to tell her this part tell her we can only talk about this in her office with some fanta grape soda tell her that period”

She looked up into your face and leaned forward as if she was revealing something vital to the meaning of the message, “he put a period at the end,” she said with a small smile.

You lifted your hands, palms facing out to stop the girl. You shook your head back and forth, “Just…don't respond to him anymore. In fact, can you block him?”

”I cannot Miss Madam Byun. He is my boss. Please accept my sincere apology.” Her expression was serious and you responded with a hopeless shrug and a laugh. At least now, she’d tucked the phone safely away inside the pocket of her apron and quit relaying his insane text messages verbatim like that.

“Is this the entire home? Is there more somewhere?” One of the girls stood at your open bedroom doorway and had turned back around to face you with this seemingly innocent, yet strangely insulting question. You noticed her first destination was to open and close a closet door on the opposite side of the living room before she peered questioningly into your bedroom, confused as to where the entrance to the rest of your enormous mansion could be.

“No, it’s just one bedroom and one bathroom.”

Her posture straightened out and her eyes flew to the other girl who was standing at the kitchen. The two girls smiled at each other.

“We will be finished in an hour, Madam Byun. Would you prefer to remain on the premises or can we lock up for you when we leave?”

You hadn’t considered that you could just…go.

You could simply leave the unsavory bits to them and just head out to the spa or salon or out for a quick stroll in the park with a to-go cup of coffee from your favorite coffee shop.

Baekhyun had just given you an amazing gift. The gift of time.

You smiled a genuine smile and let them know that you would get dressed quickly and head out for the day. They were already busy finishing up with the mess in the kitchen when you headed toward the door.

They hailed your exit with dramatic 90 degree bows and passive smiles on their faces and you shook your head as you left, catching the eye of the one you figured to be the leader on your way out with an instruction for them, using your very best authorities manager voice so they knew you meant business.

“Make sure you tell him you all worked for, at least, 4 full hours today and make sure he pays you for it. I won’t accept any less. Let me know if he gives you any trouble. I can be even more annoying than he is. Got it?”

At last, the smiles on their faces were real and pulled as wide as their surprised eyes were. You closed the door to a chorus of their cheerful farewells ready to venture out into the world on a mission now to make yourself as sexy and beautiful as humanly possible.

You were going to absolutely kill that man tonight.

Part 1, ….. Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Can I Stay? Masterlist

[purgetrooperfox]

not to foxpost on the foxblog but I think we should all talk more about the cognitive dissonance that the GAR, and the Guard specifically, would have to deal with on an ongoing basis. they're brought up and had it drilled into them for a decade straight that the Republic is worth fighting and dying for, that it stands for justice and freedom and [insert patriotic buzzwords here]. they get deployed directly into a slaughter on Geonosis. they get assigned to Jedi who intentionally get them killed. they get assigned to the Guard and listen to Senators treat the war like an abstract, distant concept and the clones like equipment to be manufactured/replaced/disposed of. they're treated as subhuman by civilians. they're slaves in this system that was built up to be a shining star, a perfect example of democracy, the thing they're born to die for.

so what do you get. indoctrinated beliefs versus lived experience. sure, some of them turn (Slick) or desert (Cut), but most of them have to reconcile that conflict without walking away from the army altogether. Dogma is one end of the spectrum, going the route of "my indoctrinated beliefs must be true, so I'll selectively validate parts of my lived experience to align with them and seek out proof of them". Fives is, on Umbara at least, the opposite end, going the route of "my lived experience must be true, so I'll recontextualize my indoctrinated beliefs to match it". the Republic is still worth everything, but maybe we can't trust the Jedi, or the Kaminoans, or the Chancellor.

but the majority of them are going to fall closer to Dogma, otherwise the GAR would stop functioning or try to collectively rebel, right? it's easy to skirt around how deep brainwashing runs and how far people will go to resolve dissonance, but fmngmfng

so you take Fox in the context of Commander of the Guard, and you get "the Republic must still be worth it, so these rules and regs are in place for a reason, and even if they're not then they do work to protect us, and the Senate is doing its best with a bad situation, and the Chancellor wouldn't commit xyz atrocity because he is the Republic" and on and on and on to try to reconcile it all in his poor fucked up brain. how would he carry on with the slog of his job? how could he possibly have the space to wrestle with the contradiction? then the longer you lean into one justification, the deeper it sinks in and reinforces itself

anyway this has been needless over-analysis hour

[jwonsociety]

another year with you ♡

yang jungwon x gn!reader est. relationship | fluff | 1.0k | no warnings!

a/n: happy new year everyone!! here's to a great 2023 🥂

You weren't sure why you allowed yourself to get dragged to this party.

Actually, that's a lie. You knew exactly why this happened. A few hours prior, Jungwon had suggested that you two go to a New Year's celebration hosted by one of his close friends. "I know parties aren't really your thing," he'd said, "but it'll be fun, I promise!" Once he had punctuated his plea by batting his infuriatingly adorable eyelashes, you knew there was no way in the world you could've declined.

Your boyfriend was right, after all. The party was a lot of fun. You spent the night laughing with friends you hadn't seen in a while and being thoroughly entertained by Jungwon and Sunghoon's abstract rendition of Born This Way by Lady Gaga during karaoke. The couple hundred videos you had of it in your camera roll were certainly proof of that.

So, yes, you were having a great time. The only issue was that midnight was in approximately one minute, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Clearly, he couldn't have gone far -- Heeseung's apartment wasn't terribly large -- but the mass of people gathering to watch the countdown on TV was making it hard to find him. Excited chatter filled the room as well as the thrum of music blasting from the stereo. You tried standing on your tiptoes in order to pick him out in the crowd but were unsuccessful in your efforts. In search of assistance, you turned to the girl standing to your left.

"Wonyoung," you asked, raising your voice in order to be heard over the commotion. "Have you seen Jungwon?"

She furrowed her brows pensively. "I think I saw him near the kitchen? Not entirely sure, though."

You nodded. "Thank you!"

She supplied you with an encouraging thumbs up. "Go find your man!"

Steered by Wonyoung's directions, you ventured towards the kitchen -- a task which turned out to require some serious evasive maneuvers. You ducked under rogue elbows, awkwardly shimmied in between flirting partygoers, and cringed when one particularly sweaty man brushed up against you. A nervous glance at the TV revealed that now only 30 seconds remained until January 1st.

Once you reached your destination, your eyes scanned your surroundings. The room was obscured by darkness, illuminated only by the sporadic flash of the nearby television. Where was he? Worry began to creep into your mind. Suddenly, the room filled with everyone's voices shouting in unison, causing you to startle.

"Ten!"

Shit. Your heartbeat began to quicken and a girl wearing light-up sunglasses pushed past you.

"Nine!"

You made it to an uncrowded spot by the window. Its glass stretched from the floor to the ceiling and offered a view overlooking the city. Lights pulsed across the skyline like a giant heartbeat.

"Eight!"

You glanced back out into the mass of the party. Somehow, Sunoo had ended up on Niki's shoulders.

"Sev--"

"Y/n!"

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice. Whirling around, your gaze landed on a boy clad in a fuzzy white sweater, chestnut brown hair falling onto his face in disheveled strands. A wide grin stretched across your face. Jungwon.

"Six!"

He grabbed your hand, leaning in close so that his mouth was right next to your hear. "I've been looking everywhere for you, y/nnie."

"Five!"

"Not my fault you disappeared," you giggled.

"Four!"

He pulled away so that you two were face to face. Fuck. He was gorgeous like a sky painted pink by a sunset -- even though you had seen it a million times, it was still just as marvelous as the first.

"Three!"

Jungwon looked at you, eyes twinkling. "Would you do me the honor--"

"Two!"

"--of being my New Year's kiss?"

"One!"

You had never nodded so eagerly in your life.

"Happy New Year!"

In one gentle motion, Jungwon placed his left hand on your waist and the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in. The moment your lips met his, the deafening cheers of your friends faded into blissful obscurity. The only sound that filled your ears was the roar of your heart as you leaned into his touch. His grasp was soft on your hips, holding you close as if to ensure that you wouldn't be separated from him again. You grinned into the kiss, hands snaking up his neck before settling in his silky hair. His cologne smelled sweet and warm and you reveled in the way it completely took over your senses. Greedily, you never wanted his lips to part from yours.

But, much to your disappointment, Jungwon lingered only for a few more moments before pulling away, his eyes settling on yours. "Happy new year, baby."

"Happy new year," you replied, voice breathless. "I was worried I wouldn't find you."

The corner of Jungwon's mouth quirked up. "I was worried about that too. There's a lot of people here, you know."

Your face flushed as you remembered that yes, in fact, there were a lot of people here, and they all definitely just saw you kiss your boyfriend. As embarrassed as that would normally make you feel, at this moment you really couldn't seem to care. Not when Jungwon was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His dark eyes were like their own universe, teeming with stars dazzling with supernovas. They gleamed with a sort of fondness that made your heart burst. Out of all the boys on this Earth, this one was yours. And you were undoubtedly his.

"Got any New Year's resolutions?" you asked, absentmindedly combing your fingers through his hair. You relished the way he leaned into the touch like he was completely spellbound by you.

"Just one."

You tilted your head. "And that is...?"

He softly dragged his thumb across your cheek, moving in to close the distance between the two of you. When he spoke, his breath ghosted warmly against your lips.

"To spend another amazing year with you, my love."

Midnight had come and gone, yet Jungwon pulled you in for another kiss anyways.