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jinx-xxed · 4 months ago

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Feral Desires

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; This feels like a crazy jump from my first smut I posted lmfao 🫡 it was also crazy writing this, I haven’t written omegaverse in forever despite it being a favorite

Summary; You’re on a mission for the First Order, well away from your alpha, which means it’s the perfect time for your heat to start out of nowhere.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, omegaverse, omega reader, alpha Kylo Ren, mated to Kylo, heats, ruts, nesting, fingering, piv sex, knotting, biting/marking, scent marking, breeding kink, A LOT of breeding kink, protective and possessive Kylo, also very loving Kylo, tiny bit of size difference kink, conservative views on omegas (mostly pertaining to suppressants), omegaverse terms (kids referred to as pups), fluff

Wc; 6.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

You thought it would be fine.

It should’ve been fine.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, gods, this was not supposed to happen.

Your heat was not supposed to start a month early right when you leave on a mission.

Everything had seemed okay at first; you gathered your troops after getting your assignment—investigate an uninhabited jungle planet’s surface and find out what the First Order could gleam from it. You had bid farewell to Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader and also your mate. Through your bond both in the Force and in the bite mark on your neck, you could tell how apprehensive he was to let you go. It had taken some convincing, but he’d allowed it. If he wasn’t swamped in a million other responsibilities that come with his new position, he would’ve joined you.

The trip to the planet had gone without a hitch, and everything had seemed like it was in perfect order. You were the first to step foot on the surface once your ships’ doors had opened with a hiss of depressurized air. It was quite beautiful when you took it all in; covered in lush vegetation and impossibly tall trees covered in moss, a few of which your ships had unfortunately crushed on their way down. Sensors indicated that the air was nontoxic and clean so you had gladly taken a deep breath. Smells came stronger to you with your aberrant status, meaning you could practically taste the planet on your tongue. It was damp and full of the smell of wet leaves and bark, along with the reek of wild animals you didn’t know the names of. Said animals were calling through the trees in chirps and barks. It was quite nice.

Stormtroopers fanned out, beginning to take notes of anything that seemed of importance or interest. You and your lieutenant, a beta named Mallory who’d been by your side for many years, were in charge of placing down beacons and sensors that would give you every piece of data you’d need. It’d tell you what’s beneath the planets surface like ores and minerals and what kind of regeneration systems it had. It’d be a slow process; taking scans of an entire, huge planets surface wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. That’s why you were given a weeks timeline for this mission. Easy enough.

Until you’d gotten a prickling on the back of your neck, until an odd amount of sweat started to build at your collar, until you could barely hold on to your data pad because of how slippery your palms had become. You’d tried to ignore it, tried to ignore those telltale signs because surely your heat wouldn’t be starting now? Surely it wouldn’t have been catapulted forward a month because your body got confused by you leaving your alpha and was doing what it needed to in order to bring him back?

“General? Are you alright?” Mallory asks you.

You realize you’d been standing there looking at your data pad like an idiot while warmth and sweat builds beneath your uniform. You look up and try to blink the haze out of your vision. Suddenly all those smells from before are so overwhelming. “I think I need to go back to the ship.” You mutter. You’re not stupid, you do realize it’d be irresponsible to try and ignore this. Hell, you can’t even get yourself to take a step forward when all you want to do is go back to your ship where the scents are familiar.

Mallory tenses, noticing the flush in your face and the way your demeanor is so off. She may be a beta but she’s still able to recognize the onset of a heat, especially yours after being your lieutenant for so long. That’s why she goes with you everywhere, to keep an eye on you. She’s perfect for times like these. “Okay. Let’s go, quickly.” She says, a gentle hand on your arm guiding you back the way you came.

She says commands through a radio while you walk, instructing the next in charge—a fresh-face captain—to continue the observations so they can at least get something out of this. You feel guilt pierce through your roiling stomach, cursing yourself over and over for not being able to see a very simple mission to completion. It’s embarrassing. It makes you wish you were able to take your damn suppressants again.

You haven’t taken them for about three years, ever since you became mated to Kylo. As soon as that happened, all of your suppressants were tossed and every medic on the Steadfast was strictly forbidden to give you any. If any were discovered, you knew exactly what price they’d have to pay. Before all that, you’d taken them regularly to give you some peace aboard the ship and keep your position as general safe. People were more willing to trust you with things if your omega status was… muted. It was easier to ignore.

The only reason you really got to keep your job was because you were damn good at it and you kept being an omega from getting in the way, so nobody cared. It was simple. Then Kylo came along, discovered you were Force sensitive, began to train you, and you fell for him hard. You ended up becoming his mate, his teeth laying claim to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, right where your scent gland starts. He bears a similar mark from your own teeth. He was gracious enough to let you remain as a general, even if every primal instinct he has tells him to keep you away from your job because it’s dangerous. All because he knew how upset it’d make you if he took it away, and because you’re actually competent.

However, it puts you in situations like this where you’re trying to fight off an oncoming heat while you’re on an unknown planet in an unknown space and your alpha is a galaxy away from you. You’ve learned that your status as an omega comes before your position as a general.

Mallory gets you back on to your ship that’s specifically assigned to only you two for your own safety. Never before have you been so grateful for that. She heads towards the cockpit immediately, taking her seat in the pilots chair and flipping switches. You slink towards the back of the ship, craving an enclosed space and cold air. Your heat hasn’t hit you full force yet, but you know it’s a matter of hours. You know it’s a matter of hours until your brain is pure incomprehensible mush, until your body is on fire, and until there’s a need inside so deep that it consumes your entire being and only one man can satisfy it.

It always starts out slow, with everything feeling just a bit too sensitive and your temperature rising. Then you feel it in every gland you have, a slight throb to them as your scent changes and pheromone production skyrockets. You get sweaty and those stiff uniforms the First Order requires feel like they’re boiling you alive—hence why you’re removing your jacket now. Next is the nesting, creating your own little safe space where nothing can hurt you and it’s only for you and your alpha.

It’s extremely difficult in a sterile, empty ship. You can feel your omega start to panic as it realizes there’s nothing to nest with besides your own jacket and a thin, scratchy blanket from an emergency kit in the ship. Nothing with Kylo’s scent, nothing to keep your alpha close, nothing safe, it’s not safe, oh gods-

You whine low and sad in the back of your throat as you hopelessly try and try and try to rearrange your two items into something satisfactory in your little corner. It doesn’t work of course. It only serves to send you into more of a frenzy, wishing for anything else, wishing you were back on the Steadfast, back in you and Kylo’s shared rooms where you could make as big a nest as you want with his full closet at your disposal. Comfy sheets, pillows, big capes covered in his scent… thinking about it is not helping.

The ship rumbles to life beneath you and you can feel its vibrations from how your body is pressed against the floor. The cold metal helps to keep the fever raging through you at bay. You’re curled in on yourself, your hands at your neck massaging your aching glands and the bite mark that resides there. It does little to soothe your pain but it’s all you have. You faintly hear Mallory talking, though it’s drowned out by the buzzing in your head. Until a familiar, deep voice crackles through the ships comms and has you sitting up immediately, your attention laser-focused.

“I want her back on the Steadfast immediately.” Kylo says. He sounds angry, livid perhaps. It’s enough to make you feel the need to submit despite the fact he’s not even mad at you. Hearing him does something to your bond akin to reigniting it across the distance between the two of you. It gives you the smallest bit of a connection to cling on to and you wrap yourself in it, enjoying it while it lasts. You can feel his emotions, his need for you like you need him. He’s angry he isn’t there, that he can’t provide for his omega like a good alpha should. He’s irrationally scared too—scared that something might happen to you, that some other alpha might try to get to you. He’s like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off on anyone he deems fit.

“Yes, sir, I understand.” Mallory says. She looks over at one of the monitors, pressing a few controls on the screen. “Based on what fuel remains and if I avoid active fuel preservation, it should take about five standard hours to reach your coordinates.”

Five hours. By the time you reach the Steadfast, you’ll be well intro the throes of your heat, accelerated by the fact Kylo isn’t there to help you. You haven’t had a heat without your mate for a long time and your body is not happy about it. A wave of depression and anxiety washes over you, your fingers digging into the blanket and threatening to rip it.

Kylo can sense that, sense how panicked and upset you are and it only makes his rage grow. He knows he can’t do anything about the length of your return trip and it makes him feel useless, like a sorry excuse of an alpha. You almost feel bad for the staff back on the Steadfast. “If anything happens to her, I’ll have your fucking neck.” He snaps, voice crackling through the comms.

Mallory takes the threat with neutrality. It’s nothing new to her. “Yes, sir. You have my word that I’ll keep her safe.”

Kylo calls your name suddenly and it has you stumbling to your feet and towards the radio. You grasp at the back of Mallory’s chair to keep you stable. “Alpha?” You ask, voice unable to hide your desperation.

“I’m sorry this happened. It’ll be better soon.” Kylo promises, his tone softening just a bit when he talks with you. “Be good in the meantime.”

You nod even though he can’t see it. “I will, alpha.” You’d do anything he asks.

With that, the radio clicks off and he’s gone. It felt like the only support keeping you upright was just ripped away from you, his presence in your bond fleeing and leaving you with nothing. It made your chest constrict and heat lick down your back, everything seeming to spin. Mallory rises from her chair after putting the ship on autopilot. “Go lay back down. I don’t want you to collapse.” She says. “And take these.” She hands you two bottles of water that were brought along in case of emergencies. You’re going to need them more than anything with how much fluid you lose during your heat. You down one of the bottles immediately.

You obediently take the other back to your “nest”, spending another ten minutes trying to rearrange your blanket and jacket. You eventually just give up and flop down with your knees tucked up to your chest, trying to ignore the ache across the entirety of your body. Your thoughts are still coherent at least, though you can feel them steadily slipping away. Your omega just wants Kylo, wants him more than anything. Wants his scent, his strong arms, his lips on your gland, his knot.

There it is. You whimper, your nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood as you feel the first trickle of slick seep into your underwear. Your breath comes out in pants that fog the metal paneling under you, your face feeling like it’s on fire. You writhe on your blanket, distracting yourself with movement and trying to find any kind of position that provides relief. Squeezing your legs together helps a little, putting some pressure on your clit and releasing more slick. You know this pair of underwear is going to be unsalvageable by the time this is over.

You can feel the slick start to stain your pants, creating a wet spot that’ll keep spreading. The ache has moved lower, now settling in your stomach and making you nauseous. Its comes in waves of cramps and hot flashes and gushing slick, creating a combination that feels like actual hell. You know that that’s how it’ll stay with the intensity increasing as the hours pass without your alpha inside you. You wish so badly you could just sleep the time away, close your eyes and open them again to Kylo there to take care of you. But you don’t feel safe enough to fall asleep. Your nest is shit, the ship is too unfamiliar, and you’re right at the beginning of your heat when you’re most vulnerable without your alpha who’s supposed to protect you.

These next five hours are about to be the longest of your life.

» ☆ «

Time passes in a haze.

A haze full of desperation, need, fire raging in your blood, and slick coating your thighs. Your vision is blurred, like a film was put over your eyes. You try to focus on the feeling of the ship underneath you instead of… anything else. The state of being in heat is all you know now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to not be making a drooling mess of yourself over the thought of your alpha’s cock sinking into your aching cunt.

Mallory has been trying to ignore you the whole time for her own sanity; your whines, moans, panting, and the desperate whispers of Kylo’s name passing between your lips. She’s stayed well away in the safety of the cockpit, focusing on just getting you both back to the Steadfast. Even though she’s a beta and has no specific inclinations, she can still feel the headiness in the air, sticking to the back of her neck and making her skin prickle. This isn’t anything particularly new to her, she’s been by your side for years. She knows what it means to be an omega.

That’s why she’s glad when a final jump through lightspeed sends her sensors beeping and the massive hulk that is the Steadfast appears at the top of the viewport. She keeps her hands from shaking by gripping the controls of the ship, guiding it towards home base. She has no reason to be afraid really, Kylo Ren wouldn’t do anything to her without reason after she’s proved to be so faithful, and he’ll be too focused on you anyway. Still, she can’t help the little kernel of fear in her chest as your ship is latched onto by a gravitational beam and power is taken out of her control.

All of the commotion breaks you from your stupor. You prop yourself up weakly on your elbows, your jacket and blanket soaked in slick in a heap under you from all your twisting and turning. Your face is flushed like the rest of your body, your remaining clothes stuck to your skin because of the sweat. From your place on the floor you can just barely see through the viewport, watching as the ship pulls into one of the hangars. You can sense him now. He’s so close. It’s too bad your legs are too weak to support you, otherwise you’d use them to run out of the ship to greet him.

You feel the ship shake as it settles on the ground and you hear the sounds of it powering down. Mallory rises from her chair to get to the ramp controls, a hiss of depressurized air sounding as it lowers. She steps aside and bows her head as he enters. Finally.

Kylo instantly commands the entire space around him as soon as he comes aboard the ship. It’s like everything else around him fades away because nothing else matters. His black robes do a perfect job of outlining the muscles beneath them, his fractured helmet covering his face and making him look akin to death itself. He locks onto you, you can feel it, and instantly there’s a whine coming out of your throat. Your mate is here, your alpha is here after you had to wait for so long. Your excitement is like a buzzing that encompasses your mind to the point you can’t think about anything else.

And then his scent hits you. It’s musky and heavy, amplified by his rut that was triggered by his omega’s heat. He smells like a campfire in fall, smoky and laced with something like cinnamon. When you inhale it, it’s easy to imagine being in the forests of his home planet with a nice fire to keep you warm. There’s undertones of your own scent mixed in from your mating, creating a nice combination of the two to let anyone know that you belong to one another. His scent instantly becomes the only thing you know and starts your heat all over again, fresh waves of slick pouring from your cunt and cramps seizing your stomach.

Kylo smells it, it slams into him like a freight ship, sending him reeling. He resists every feral instinct in him telling him to pounce on you right then, to pin you down and fuck your heat away, to finally take care of the constant bulge in his pants, knowing that he needs to get you somewhere safe first. Somewhere other alphas won’t be tempted by you, even if you’re mated. His scent on you sometimes isn’t enough to deter the most depraved; his hands clench into fists at the thought, the leather of his gloves creaking.

“Alpha… please..” you whimper, reaching your arms out towards him, needing so badly just to feel him, to touch him. You can barely think straight, the only thing in your head being him, him, him. He can’t deny you anything. The metal panels beneath his boots thunder with the power of his steps, it makes you quiver. Alpha is so strong, so capable.

“I know. I’m here now.” He says as he scoops you easily into his arms, voice crackling through the modifier in his helmet. It sends pleasant shivers down your spine. You can hear how ragged his breathing is, can feel it when his chest is pressed against your cheek. You cling to his padded tunic, the material familiar and comforting beneath your fingers. You become surrounded by his scent and it brings some relief to the pain you’ve been feeling, putting your omega at ease with your alpha finally with you.

You shrink yourself as much as possible in his hold as he walks down the ramp of the ship, your face buried against his arm. There’s a spike of anxiety in your chest once the bright lights and all the different smells of the Steadfast reach you; the sharp metal tang, the hints of sterile cleaning products, and then the sweat and musk of every aberrant in that hangar. It’s overwhelming when you’re fresh into your heat, but Kylo is quick to soothe you. His body produces more of his own scent to mask everything else, pheromones changing ever so slightly to have a more calming effect on you. He’s still not entirely used to the way everything about him is so tailored to you and only you even after all this time, but he loves the pride he feels when he successfully gets you to relax.

All of the workers within the hangar stay well away from Kylo. Nobody is stupid enough to approach the Supreme Leader and his mate with the state you’re in. It would only end up getting their heads detached from their shoulders. He’s given a wide berth while walking through the halls of the ship, taking whatever shortcuts he can to reach your shared rooms faster. Everything feels so hot, your breath coming out in pants and your clothes so unbearable because of the way they’ve been drenched in your fluids. You’re whimpering in his arms, sounding so sad and pathetic as your fingers knead into his chest. “I know,” he says again, softer this time, “I’ll make it better.”

There’s the beep of a control panel as Kylo gets the hydraulic doors to your rooms open, bringing you inside and letting them bang shut behind him. You’re greeted with fresh, cold air against your burning skin and comforting familiarity—your safe space. Kylo goes to set you down and you nearly wail at the thought of losing contact, not able to bear it after being without him for too long. “Just one second, I promise.” He tells you, laying a large hand against your cheek, the leather warm from the heat of his palms. You listen to your alpha like the good omega you are, standing there squeezing your legs together while he removes his helmet. His beauty always manages to enrapture you. His sharp features and pale skin dotted with freckles, the black waves of his hair that fall around his face. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, his pupils blown wide with desire. He carelessly puts his helmet aside.

Then he’s on you. His lips press against yours, hot and needy and wet, his hands coming up to grasp each side of your face. You can’t help but moan into his mouth, your arousal spiking even higher from the urgency in his kiss. You’re surprised you can even produce more slick with how much you’re already covered in but you feel another wave of it drip down your thighs anyway. His tongue licks against your teeth, exploring your mouth that you’ve willingly opened for him.

His hands are heavy weights on your hips. He moves them down to cup your ass, then lifting you easily so your legs are wrapped around his middle. His raging erection presses slightly against your aching cunt and you gasp sharply as a shiver shoots up your spine, causing you to break from your kiss. You can’t help but try to grind down on it, creating a wet spot on his pants from your slick. He groans against you, trying not to drop you from the stimulation.

He’s quick to bring you into the bedroom, kissing you with more fervor. You manage a glance backwards and see just what Kylo’s done to your shared bed. You both barely make it to the haphazard nest he’d made for you in his own desperation, his mind wanting to protect a mate that wasn’t even there and driving himself insane over it. It’s full of dark blankets, pillows, and just about every article of clothing from his closet—soft tunics, capes, undershirts—piled onto the bed so it’s positively drenched in his scent. It’s absolutely heavenly as you fall back into it, surrounded entirely by your alpha. Kylo follows after you, shedding his clothes as he goes and merely adding them onto the nest, the scent of them fresh and potent.

“All for you,” he breathes against you, sticking his face into the crook of your neck, “everything is for you.” He inhales against your gland, tongue darting out to lick sensually at it. You squirm beneath him, moaning openly as your swollen, red gland is finally given attention. His bare hands slip beneath your white tank, pulling it up and over your body, the cold air making your nipples perk up instantly. Your pants and underwear are next to come off and you squeak when your slick becomes chilly against your skin.

“Fuck,” Kylo groans, “smell so good.”

“Alpha,” you whine, wrapping your arms across his wide shoulders to bring him closer, “alpha please…”

The ache and pain you feel is starting to become too much. You need him, you need him to fuck you, to pump you full of his cum and plug you up with his knot. Just the thought of it is enough to make your legs quiver and for your cunt to flutter. He knows exactly what you’re thinking of and he feels the need in himself just as much. He needs to take care of his omega, to make sure you won’t want for anything, and guarantee that you become swollen with his pups. A growl rumbles in his chest, his cock jumping at the idea.

His hand that was on your hip moves lower and he doesn’t hesitate to sink two fingers into your heat. They meet no resistance, sliding in and out with complete ease from the way your body has been preparing yourself for this for the last five hours. You throw your head back, mouth falling open at the relief you feel from finally having something fill you, cunt clenching in appreciation. The sounds your body makes are disgusting, copious amounts of slick being sloshed around by Kylo’s fingers. It’s wet and depraved and nasty and you’re enjoying every moment of it. He uses his thumb against your clit, rubbing back and forth and nearly making you scream. That combined with his mouth altering between the glands on either side of your neck makes it very easy for you to cum. Your body seizes, muscles constricting as pleasure wracks your body.

You can feel part of that fire within you finally die down, but it’s still not enough. There’s still an ache nestled deep inside you that his fingers can’t help with. “Please! Alpha, please, more..” you cry, grabbing at his arm to try and pull him up, to make him give you what you want so badly. You need his cock, the thing red and begging for attention, standing tall against his abdomen and dribbling precum.

His fingers withdraw from the warmth of your cunt and it makes you wince and whimper at the loss, your legs immediately trying to close and rub together in an attempt to get some friction. “What a desperate thing you are.” Kylo mutters, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth and running his tongue along them to gather your slick. You’ve seen him do this countless times but it still has your face blushing furiously. He hums his delight. “Delicious, as always.”

He gets his hand under your back, scooping you up and flipping you onto your stomach. He tugs you towards him harshly, repositioning you like a doll so your ass is in the air, your face pressed against the materials of the nest. Kylo’s scent overwhelms your nostrils, heady and aroused. A mixture of slick and cum oozes from you, dripping down the lips of your cunt and your clit and onto the bed below. You wiggle your lower half, trying to entice him. “Please… need you..” you say, voice muffled by the pillow you’re currently hiding your face in.

Kylo’s hands run from your breasts, down your sides, and settle on your hips, the rough texture of his callouses making you shiver. “My beautiful mate.” He whispers, enthralled by your body as his eyes trace over it. The head of his cock prods at your entrance and you suck in your breath. You nearly sob as he sinks to the hilt inside your cunt not even a second after, your nails digging into the blankets below you from how full you feel. Kylo stretches you to your limit, getting so deep into you it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. He sighs in relief, his massive body bending over yours so his forehead rests against your shoulder. His chest is so warm against your back, his big muscled arms braced on either side of you. You’re basically caged in and pinned down, completely at his mercy. You couldn’t be happier. Your omega keens at the attention, at your alpha displaying his complete dominance over you.

His first thrust is bliss—sliding out of you almost entirely before slamming back in, his pelvis pressed sharply against your ass. He does it again, and again, getting steadily faster with each one until he’s built up a steady rhythm that has your entire being shaking with the power of it beneath him. Your mouth hangs open, drool falling from your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. His grunts and groans and rumbles fill your ears, your own moans rising to meet them. He presses his lips against the gland that bears your bite mark, breathing you in again and moaning. “My mate, my mate,” he says reverently along your skin, “fuck- m’gonna fill you so good. You’ll give me pups, won’t you? You’ll make me a strong heir.”

“Yes! Yes, anything!” You wail. To your heat addled mind, nothing sounds better. Nothing sounds better than him filling you so full of his cum that there’s no way you don’t get pregnant. You want him so deep that he gets directly to your womb. You want to satisfy your alpha, you want to show him how obedient you are. Yes, you’ll do whatever he wants.

“My good girl.” Kylo praises, sucking your gland into his mouth and making you scream from the pleasure. It’s so shockingly intimate, warmth blooming in your chest and spreading along your body. He’s always been obsessed with your glands, even before you were mated. Your scent brings him so much comfort, such a feeling of home that he can’t stay away. He has his nose buried in the crook of your neck whenever he can and he it turns him on when he’s able to get his tongue on them. Your scent sticks to the roof of his mouth, it becomes the only thing he knows, the only thing he can taste. He fucking loves it.

“So good, sweetheart.” He gasps, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair. He watches where his cock disappears into your cunt, entranced. “Needed to fuck you so bad..”

If your brain wasn’t pure mush right now, you’d agree with him. But you can’t think with the way his cock is splitting you open, each thrust piercing your cunt and hitting that spot right at the top that seems impossible to reach without him. It makes it feel like lightning is igniting your blood, your vision flashing white. You didn’t realize how hard you were gripping the blankets until his large hand perfectly eclipses yours, his fingers slipping between your own so you hold on to him instead.

You hear his growl by your ear as his thrusts become more erratic, knowing he’s getting close. His free hand reaches under you to your clit, fingers playing with it roughly. He’s going to make sure you go along with him. You jerk from the added stimulation bordering on overstimulation from the constant pounding of his cock and the sensitivity from you already cumming once. Your moans get louder and louder, punctuated by each thrust he gives you, breaking in the middle and becoming more high pitched than usual. Your breath is pushed from your lungs, the pillow beneath you is soaked in drool.

“Mmn, shit-“ Kylo groans. He sounds drunk when he talks, his words slurred by his rut and pleasure. “Gonna give you pups. M’gonna knot you, you’ll be so good. My perfect mate.”

Yes, yes that sounds like everything you could ever want. “Please, please! Please alpha I need you-“ you beg, finally finding some semblance of your voice. “I need your knot!”

Kylo grunts his acknowledgment, his thrusts picking up the pace as he teeters on the edge. Then you feel it. Swelling begins at the base of his cock, steadily getting bigger. His movements are forced to slow along with it, becoming more and more restricted as his knot grows. Just as you feel like he’s stretched you to the brink, he lowers his head and sinks his teeth into your bonding mark. You scream. You scream so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if someone walking by outside your rooms heard you. Your vision is pure white, you feel like you can’t breathe, and you feel such a deep connection to Kylo in that moment that it pushes you over the edge. You cum harshly around his cock and his knot, cunt spasming. He cums at that same moment, hot ropes of his seed coating your walls white and his knot plugging your hole to keep it all in.

Neither of you move for a good minute because quite frankly, you’re not able to. The aftershocks are enough to keep you frozen, simply panting and trying to catch your breath. Your entire body is buzzing with pleasure and it feels like you’re floating in the clouds. Kylo is the one to come-to first, getting his arms under you to flip you both on your sides so that he’s spooning you, chest pressed firmly against your back and his big body practically engulfing you. The movement jostles his knot and makes more cum spurt from his cock and it sounds like he chokes on his breath.

He sighs, kissing the back of your neck before shifting his attention to your bond mark. Kylo’s tongue runs over it soothingly, almost like an apology for biting you. He just felt the primal need in him to refresh the mark, to let anyone else know that you belong to him. With the way you’re absolutely covered head to toe in his scent, you think everyone across the galaxy will know. “You okay?” He murmurs once he’s satisfied.

You nod, even though it feels like too much work. “Mhm.” You’re exhausted. Your heat was completely fucked out of you… for now at least. You know it’ll come back in an hour or two, ready for the same thing all over again. At least your alpha will be with you this time.

“You did so good, sweetheart.” Kylo says, his voice so full of love and adoration for you. He kisses along your jaw to the back of your ear. “My sweet omega.” You love his praise, you love the moments after when he’s so soft and gentle with you. It makes you feel so safe and happy, like you have everything you could ever ask for. And you do, really, because he’s so willing to get you anything, to provide you with everything.

He’s quiet for a moment before kissing your gland again. You can tell something was bothering him. “Never should’ve let you go on that mission.” He mutters, anger biting at his tone. “I should’ve known it was too close.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect it either.” You say, taking his hand that had been wrapped around your waist into your own. “It’s fine now.”

“I could feel when you were going into heat,” he continues, burying his face in your neck to remind himself that you’re here, “I could feel it and I wasn’t there… it drove me fucking insane. I needed to get to you.”

You can only imagine how it affected him, sensing you across the galaxy and being so incapable of helping you at all. You get glimpses of those past emotions through your bond; how angry he was, how agitated and scared. He’s far more attuned to the Force than you are, so it was much easier for him to connect to you than it was for you to connect to him. He had to just stand back while you suffered.

“Kylo, it’s okay.” You murmur again, bringing the back of his hand to your lips to break him from his thoughts. “I’m here now. You took care of me so well. You built such a good nest.”

That seems to calm him down. “I did? I just threw what I could on to the bed.”

You nod. “It’s far better than what I had in that ship.” You nuzzle into the soft materials. “Good for pups.” Just the mention has his cock throbbing inside you and pushing out more cum, as if making sure that that actually happens. You both groan.

Once he’s done, you sigh contentedly and look around. “Though… maybe just a few things could be fixed.” You say, reaching out to fix said things as you do. They’d been bothering that primal part of you that enjoys the nesting for a while. A pillow was just a bit out of a place, a blanket wasn’t fluffed up enough by just a tad, and one of his capes was just slightly askew. It makes you feel kind of crazy, but it puts your mind at ease. The whole thing has Kylo chuckling.

He brushes hair back from your face. “You should rest while you can.” He orders. “You’ll need it.”

You’re already starting to feel drowsy again, so you can’t even argue. The low, rumbling purr that’s started in Kylo’s chest adds to it. It’s such a soothing sound—just like a cat’s purr, instantly making your body relax against him. You can feel the vibrations from it reverberated in your back. You curl up as best you can in his hold with his knot still in you, his strong arms secure around your middle. There’s no need for a blanket because Kylo keeps you plenty warm—he’s like your own personal heater.

Laying there in your big, comfy nest with your alpha holding you close and his scent all around you, with your heat finally satiated… it’s so, so easy to fall asleep.

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brunchable · 18 days ago

Text

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Two

《 The plot goes off the rails. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer.

Summary: Y/N, now fully aware she’s in her fanfic, tries to navigate the villain’s role but is terrible at it. Y/N tries to sabotage one of the villain’s main plans but accidentally makes things worse.

A/N: Y/N is just a clown at this point LMAO.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish

You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re in your own fanfic, but now comes the hard part: pretending to be the villain you wrote, a role you’re quickly realizing you’re terrible at.

“I can do this,” you mutter to yourself as you pace around your lair—or, well, the lair you wrote. “I wrote the villain. I know how to be evil... right?”

The words sound hollow even to your own ears, but you try to psych yourself up. After all, you can’t be that bad at playing the character you created... right?

Wrong.

You freeze at a loud thud echoing through the room. Oh no. That’s probably Bucky—or maybe the rest of the Avengers—coming to crash this part of the story. You know what comes next: an epic confrontation, full of dramatic one-liners and battle-ready glares. A perfect opportunity for your villain character to show off her menacing charm.

Only problem? You’re about as menacing as a kitten wearing a cape.

You glance toward the entrance, heart racing. Okay, play it cool, you can pull this off.

But deep down, you’re still reeling from the last time you faced Bucky. You were supposed to be locked in a super high-tech Avengers prison, right? Yeah. That lasted a grand total of two hours, mostly because your minions—and you use the term very loosely—broke you out.

To be fair, you didn’t even know you had minions. You didn’t exactly plan for that when you wrote the story. But, apparently, your villain character does. And when they broke you out, it was less like a well-executed heist and more like a disorganized clown car unloading directly into a high-security facility.

Imagine the worst rescue you can think of. Now multiply it by ten, add three explosions that were definitely not supposed to happen, and you have a vague idea of how badly it went. There were henchmen tripping over each other, one of them got stuck in the ventilation shaft, and another one kept calling you "Supreme Evil Leader," which felt flattering but... also very awkward.

To make matters worse, Bucky—looking all intense and broody, because of course he does—caught up with you right as you were awkwardly sliding into the escape vehicle, and the confrontation? Oh, it was a mess.

You tried to give him a villainous speech about how “this isn’t over,” but it came out more like, “I’m... uh... not done here! Watch out!”

Then one of your minions set off a smoke bomb before anyone was ready, and you tripped over your own feet trying to make a dramatic exit. Classic villain move? Not quite. You barely made it out without face-planting.

So yeah. That’s where you’re at. This is round two, and you’re really hoping to do better this time.

Another thud echoes through the room. You swallow hard.

Okay, no more bumbling. This time, I’m going to deliver the villainous performance of a lifetime.

You scramble to the center of the room and try to remember what your villainous character would say. You did write this scene, after all. It’s just... harder to do it when you’re living it. Especially when you know Bucky is about to walk in, all brooding and muscle-y.

Maybe if I just stand here and look mysterious? That’s evil, right? Just stare into the distance like I’m plotting something dark.

As the door bursts open and Bucky strides in, guns blazing (literally, because of course he’s carrying), you raise a hand, attempting to look menacing. “Aha! Bucky Barnes... we meet again!”

He pauses mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “You’re... dramatic.”

Damn it! Why did I write such terrible dialogue?

You cringe internally, but you push on. “Yes, well... I’m a villain. That’s what we do, right? Be dramatic?”

He’s not buying it. “Is this supposed to scare me?” His tone is flat, his expression unreadable.

You fumble for a comeback. “I—I mean, of course! You should be terrified of my... evil...ness.” You gesture vaguely around the lair, hoping it looks more intimidating than it feels.

Bucky takes another step forward, his metal arm gleaming under the dim lighting. “You don’t seem very sure of yourself.”

Great.

“I’m very sure!” you snap, but even you don’t believe yourself. You can feel your composure slipping. This is not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to deliver a chilling monologue and strike fear into the heart of your enemies.

Instead, all you can think about is how Bucky’s muscles look even better in person.

Focus! You’re supposed to be evil! Stop mentally cataloging his biceps!

Bucky crosses his arms, clearly waiting for you to say something intimidating, but your brain is short-circuiting.

“Look,” you start, hoping to salvage the situation, “maybe we could just... skip the whole fighting thing? We’re all tired, right? How about we just, I don’t know, chat?”

He blinks, clearly confused. “Chat?”

“Yeah!” you nod enthusiastically, jumping on this new plan. “You know, talk it out. No need for violence. I’m sure we can... negotiate.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You’re stalling again.”

“Stalling? Me? No way!” You laugh nervously. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But in my defense, I wasn’t expecting you to look this... uh, intense.”

He steps closer, clearly not amused. “You’re the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“How many times are you going to say that?,” you groan, throwing your hands up. “I didn’t ask for this! Well, technically I did because I wrote it, but now that I’m living it, it’s way harder than it seemed when I was typing it up, okay?”

Bucky stares at you, utterly confused, as you ramble. “You wrote what?”

“Never mind,” you mutter, waving him off. “The point is, being evil is exhausting, and I’m not cut out for it.”

Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you probably have at this point. You’re clearly not doing a great job of selling the “evil mastermind” role.

“Okay,” you say, standing up straighter, trying one last time to get back into character. “You know what? Let’s forget all that. Let’s just get back on track, okay?”

You strike a dramatic pose, trying to regain some villainous dignity. “Behold, Bucky Barnes, for you will never escape my clutches! Mwahaha—”

Before you can even finish your half-hearted evil laugh, the ground beneath you starts shaking. You freeze.

“Oh no,” you whisper, realizing that you’ve accidentally triggered the next phase of your villain’s grand plan—which you totally forgot about.

The lair begins transforming around you, mechanical arms lowering from the ceiling, hidden weapons emerging from the walls.

What did I even write here? You try to remember, but it’s been too long, and you wrote so many twists and turns into this plot.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as the chaos unfolds. “This part of the plan?”

You wince. “Uh... yes? I mean, obviously.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you?”

“Not... exactly,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s been a while since I wrote this, okay? But look, I’m sure it’ll all work out in my favor.”

Just then, a panel on the wall opens up, revealing a countdown timer with large, glowing red numbers. Your heart sinks. Oh no. Not the countdown!

Bucky notices the timer and shoots you a look. “What happens when that hits zero?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “Um, you’re not gonna like this, but... I think it triggers some sort of self-destruct sequence? Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”

Bucky glares at you. “You think?”

“Look, I was going for high stakes when I wrote it, okay? I didn’t expect to actually be here!” you blurt out, throwing your hands up.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know! But it’s not my fault! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep your villain persona together when you’re staring at all this?” You gesture to him dramatically, feeling flustered. “You’re like... ripped.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your sudden compliment. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said!” you huff. “You’re ripped, and it’s distracting, okay?”

He shakes his head, still looking at you like you’re crazy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before,” you reply with a grin, trying to distract him while you figure out what to do next. “But seriously, can we stop the countdown? Because I really don’t want to blow up right now.”

Bucky takes a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Then stop playing around and fix this.”

You fumble for the control panel, desperately pressing buttons at random. The countdown speeds up, and you wince.

“Oh no, I think I made it worse.”

Bucky grabs your wrist, yanking you away from the panel. “Stop touching things if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“YOU TOLD ME TO FIX THIS!” you protest, but Bucky’s death glare shuts you up immediately. You shrink back, feeling the weight of his grip on your wrist as he pulls you away from the panel.

“You’re making it worse,” he growls, letting go of you. “Just… stand there and do nothing.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “Not my fault this whole thing’s a dumpster fire. I wrote it, but I didn’t think I’d have to live it.”

Bucky ignores your muttering as he works on the control panel, trying to figure out how to disable the countdown. You watch him for a moment, eyes trailing over his arms as they flex with every movement.

Focus, Y/N. Now’s not the time for ogling. Well… maybe just a little ogling.

"How are you so calm during all this?” you ask, hoping to break the tension—and maybe sneak in a little more flirting. “I mean, you’re literally disarming a self-destruct sequence with those gorgeous, dangerous hands of yours. It’s honestly distracting.”

Bucky doesn’t even look up, but you swear you see a flicker of a smirk. “You’re the one who set this off in the first place. Shouldn’t you be handling it?”

“Look, if you weren’t here being all Captain Broody and Muscles McGee, maybe I could think straight,” you snap back. “I can’t be held responsible for the chaos you create just by standing there.”

He finally glances at you, eyebrow raised. “You’re blaming me?”

“Well, yeah!” you say, gesturing wildly. “I was trying to be a villain, but have you seen yourself? How am I supposed to be evil when you look like you just stepped out of a superhero calendar?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, turning back to the control panel, but you catch a flicker of amusement in his expression. You might be bad at villainy, but at least you’re good at throwing him off.

You lean back against the wall, pretending to be casual as your heart pounds in your chest. “So... once we stop the countdown and we’re not blown to smithereens, what do you say we grab a drink? You know, to celebrate not dying.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Bucky mutters, still focused on the panel.

“I’ll stop talking when you stop being hot,” you fire back without missing a beat.

Bucky finally stops what he’s doing and looks at you, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Are you flirting with me right now? While we’re about to blow up?”

You give him a sheepish grin. “Hey, if we’re going down, might as well go out swinging. Or... flirting.”

“Unbelievable,” Bucky mutters under his breath before turning back to the countdown. With one final movement, he manages to disable the timer, and the red numbers blink out.

You let out a long breath, slumping in relief. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t entirely screw things up.”

Bucky stands up straight, glaring at you with his arms crossed. “You almost killed us.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” you say, flashing him a grin. “So technically, I saved us. You’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘charmingly chaotic,’” you reply with a wink. “But sure, impossible works too.”

Bucky shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “You’re lucky you didn’t blow up your own lair.”

“See? Lucky. I’m like a walking good luck charm,” you say, giving him a playful nudge. “So, about that drink—”

“Not happening,” he interrupts, cutting you off.

You sigh dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Bucky steps closer, leaning in so his face is just inches from yours. For a split second, you think he might actually be considering it. But then he says, “You still owe me for almost killing us. Get moving before I change my mind.”

You blink up at him, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a hero, you’re awfully grumpy.”

“And for someone who’s supposed to be a villain, you’re terrible at it,” he shoots back.

You can’t help but grin. “Fair point. But hey, I never said I was good at being bad. I’m more of a... chaotic neutral.”

Bucky shakes his head again and walks toward the door, clearly done with the conversation. “Let’s go. And try not to trigger another self-destruct sequence.”

Before you can even muster a comeback—probably something sarcastic about how it’s hard to be a villain when you’re distracted by muscles—you suddenly feel a strange tug, like someone’s yanking you backward by an invisible rope.

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what—”

The room starts spinning. One second, you’re staring at Bucky’s very serious, very grumpy face, and the next, it feels like the entire lair is collapsing around you. Everything blurs together in a whirl of colors and lights.

“OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?!” you scream, arms flailing as you try to hold onto something, anything. But there’s nothing. Not even Bucky’s annoyed expression to anchor you.

For a brief, panicked moment, you’re convinced this is it. This is how you go out. Flung into the void for writing bad fanfiction. What a way to go.

Then, with a pop, you land face-first into... your bed.

You blink, completely disoriented. “Wait... what just happened?”

Your laptop sits open beside you, the fanfic document staring you in the face like it’s mocking you. Your head is spinning, your heart racing, and you slowly sit up, still convinced you might be hallucinating.

“No way...” you mutter, glancing around your bedroom, taking in the very non-evil surroundings. The smell of laundry detergent. The sound of traffic outside. Your cat, Felix, staring at you from the corner with a look that clearly says, What the hell was that?

“I’m... back?” You pat yourself down, making sure you’re all in one piece. No villain outfit, no lair, no brooding super-soldiers demanding you fix things. Just... reality.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God, I got kicked out of my own fanfic.”

You collapse backward onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t even get to redeem myself! Or finish flirting with Bucky! Not that I was doing a good job, but still!”

Felix hops onto the bed and meows at you, completely unimpressed with your current existential crisis.

You groan, pulling the laptop onto your lap and staring at the screen. “Well... I guess this is better than being trapped in my own chaotic, terrible story. But man, I was so close to redeeming myself. Kinda.”

Felix bats at your laptop as if to remind you of your priorities.

“Fine, fine,” you mutter, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I guess I’ll just... write the rest of the story like a normal person.”

You pause, glancing at Felix. “Do you think Bucky misses me?”

Felix’s blank stare is the only response you get.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh dramatically. “He probably doesn’t even remember me. I didn’t even get to finish my evil monologue.”

You sit up on your bed, still reeling from your sudden ejection from the fanfic world. Your brain is buzzing with one thought: I need to go back.

Sure, your villainous arc had gone off the rails, but you were so close to turning things around. And, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to try a redemption arc when it means more time with Bucky?

You rub your temples, staring at your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Okay, okay... maybe if I just... concentrate hard enough, I can get back in. That’s how it works, right?”

Felix watches you with his usual disapproving stare as you gather all the determination you can muster and lean in toward the laptop screen.

“Come on, just suck me back into the fanfic,” you mutter, inching closer to the screen, squinting at it as if somehow willing yourself back into the story would do the trick. “Please?”

Nothing.

You frown. “Alright, time for desperate measures.”

With a deep breath, you slam your forehead into the laptop screen.

Thud.

“Ow!” you yelp, clutching your head as Felix meows at you like, What is wrong with you?

“That didn’t work,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. “Okay, let’s try something else.”

You get up, pacing back and forth. “What did I do last time? Maybe if I type something... yeah, that’s it! I’ll just type myself back in!”

You sit back down, hands flying over the keyboard as you try to rewrite yourself back into the fanfic.

“Y/N is sucked back into the story... um... gracefully and... with a cool villain pose!” you type, nodding to yourself. “Yeah, perfect.”

You press enter with a dramatic flourish and then wait.

...

Nothing happens.

You stare at the screen, blinking. “Okay, rude.”

Felix hops up onto the desk, flicking his tail in annoyance as if to say, Even I know this is a terrible plan.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumble at the cat, shaking your head. “Maybe it needs more drama.”

You jump up from your chair and dramatically yell, “I SUMMON THEE, FANFICTION WORLD! BRING ME BACK TO BUCKY!”

Felix stares at you, completely unimpressed.

Still nothing.

“Why is this so hard?” you groan, leaning over your laptop like you’re trying to psychically connect with it. “Come on, take me back! Just throw me back into the chaos! I’ll do better this time, I swear!”

In a fit of frustration, you try slapping the screen. Then gently caressing it. Then hugging the laptop like it’s some magical portal that just needs a little love.

Felix meows again, this time louder, as if to say, Seriously, stop embarrassing yourself.

“Fine!” you huff, letting go of the laptop. “Maybe I need to... I don’t know, meditate my way back in. Channel my inner villain.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “I am a powerful, misunderstood villainess. Bucky Barnes cannot resist my charm. Take me baaaaack...”

Silence.

Your eyes pop open and you look around. Still in your bedroom. Felix gives you an unimpressed side-eye.

“Ugh!” you groan, throwing yourself backward onto the bed in defeat. “I’m stuck here. Forever.”

Then, out of nowhere, your phone buzzes. You lazily grab it, fully prepared to ignore the world, when you see the time.

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh no... I’m late for work!”

You leap off the bed, tossing Felix an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta go! Villainy will have to wait! Please don’t tell anyone how badly this went!”

In your panic, you nearly trip over your slippers as you rush to grab your bag and dash for the door, realizing that while you might have been kicked out of your fanfic, real life is waiting—and it doesn’t care how close you were to a redemption arc.

As you race to get ready, you can’t help but mumble to yourself, “I swear, next time I get sucked into a fanfic, I’m writing myself as the hero... and with a better wake-up plan.”

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doberbutts · 1 month ago

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Tbh I think the comparison to white people might be some simple us vs them thinking (maybe not all the time, though). White people complaining about oppression = nonsense/overeaggeration (if you're myopic), therefore comparing transmascs to white people is a way to call what they say nonsense. Or, if you're under the impression oppression=good person points, then white = bad/wrong, therefore transmascs are bad/wrong. Idk. Lots of these folks have some black/white thinking.

I think the answer is much easier than that.

The majority of people I see using the race analogy to draw a parallel of white vs black racism and trans man vs woman oppression are white themselves. Not everyone, but I would say my casual scroll of Bad Take Havers usually reveals whiteness here.

It does not surprise me at all that the very same white people doing this do not have the nuanced racial understanding to be able to reflect how, for instance, both black communities and latine communities experience racism in different yet similar ways, and how there is both bad blood and also shared history and solidarity between both communities, with many people who exist somewhere in between (afrolatinos) and people who exist completely outside of this equation (other marginalized races of color) or on the fringes (other mixed people of color but with only one of the involved races in this venn diagram) that also may experience their own oppression.

And so, they don't even think to use the comparison of black and Latino understanding, instead choosing to reach for white vs black racial dynamics. They don't have the understanding necessary to get why that's neither a good comparison nor is it a fair one to use especially when this particular conversation was started by trans mascs of color and how prior conversations regarding trans men and mascs occupying a marginalized gender were started by both (cis *and* trans) women of color and trans men and mascs of color.

It also does not escape my attention that those insisting that not only do trans men and mascs have privilege (something I do not completely disagree with, although I think as always it is more nuanced than "have" vs "have not") but also that trans men and mascs are specifically an *oppressor class* are also largely white, and show an inability to understand that "privilege" does not always equally translate to "oppressor". This comes to a head when discussing trans men in powerful positions- teachers, doctors, politicians, business owners, religious leaders, even celebrities- and whether they are pushing harmful rhetoric or if they are holding the line and refusing to budge.

And, while not true in all cases and certainly no one is perfect, because people are people and thus imperfect at the best of times, the majority of all trans people in power hold the line and refuse to budge regarding harm to our community. We can all think of examples- usually celebrities- of otherwise, but those pushing for laws and change are generally hand-in-hand with each other keeping step and refusing to leave their fellow siblings behind.

This does not mean that we cannot *contribute to* or even *lean on* transmisogyny- remember, there were cis women on the Supreme Court gleefully voting away abortion rights even though it directly affects them. There is no identity that makes you immune to bigoted bias, and no identity that protects you from doing harm to others. That is on each of us to do better, to each out in fellowship and solidarity to our fellow humans, and to lift each other out of the pit.

Much like how a Latino friend of mine may experience privilege in that he does not experience the antiblackness I do, and much how I may have privilege that I speak English as my mother tongue and he doesn't in this largely English-language-dominated country, neither of us are inherently each other's oppressors unless we are acting on oppressive bias. Intentionally or otherwise.

Oppression is action, not existence.

But again, I am not surprised a group of largely white people do not understand nearly enough of this nuance as it applies to race to then be able to apply it to gender.

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icallhimjoey · 2 months ago

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supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!

we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash! Wordcount: 3K

---

Only Have Eyes For You

(read Ground Rules here)

Joe has yet to stop staring at her.

It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.

New.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”

It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.

It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.

He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.

Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.

He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.

Her perfect little face.

Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.

Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.

The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.

It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.

Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.

“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.

“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”

“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.

“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.

“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.

“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.

“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”

It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.

Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.

Which actually made a lot of sense to you.

It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.

Hence why it had become a running joke.

One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.

When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.

Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”

“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.

“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.

“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”

“You think so?”

“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”

That had made you burst into actual sobs.

The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.

You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.

Or how tired he felt.

He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.

“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.”

And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.

There’s a baby next to your bed.

The one he watched you gave birth to.

Your baby.

His baby.

He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.

Life is ridiculous.

He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.

When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.

He freezes.

Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.

After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.

Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.

He’d listened.

Knew better than to tell you no.

But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.

You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?

Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.

But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.

He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.

“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”

“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.

“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.

With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”

“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”

“I’ll go get someone.”

“Please.”

Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.

“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”

The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.

It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.

Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.

He can’t get over how you’ve made this.

Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.

The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.

Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”

Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.

“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.

You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.

He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”

You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.

“Six weeks before sex, right?”

You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”

“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.

Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.

You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.

God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.

You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”

You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.

You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.

Your baby.

You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.

You can both just watch her.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”

The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.

You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.

“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.

“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.

“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”

“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.

“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.

“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.

Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.

After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.

His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.

It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.

And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.

Finds he can’t stop staring.

“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.

“I’ll keep an eye.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #rpf #ground rules #inside out & outside in #only have eyes for you

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writerbuddha · 1 month ago

Note

Good evening. I would like to ask why the Trade Federation invaded Naboo? I know they created a blockade to protest the taxation of trade routes over which they have a monopoly, but why did they invade Naboo? What will they gain by conquering and dominating the planet?

Hello! :)

If you remember, Qui-Gon indicates not once, but twice in The Phantom Menace that invading Naboo "is an odd play for the Trade Federation" and that "There's no logic in the Federation's move here." If they can control and rule a planet as bountiful as Naboo it would obviously bring them considerable wealth, but their decision to invade Naboo simply makes no sense.

It's important to remember that the Viceroy - and therefore, the Trade Federation - is following Darth Sidious/Senator Palpatine's plan and instructions. So, the question you should ask: how Darth Sidious/Senator Palpatine benefits from the invasion of Naboo?

The invasion of Naboo exposed that, as Padmé put it, “the Republic no longer functions.” The reason for that is because, as Palpatine tells her, "There is no civility, only politics. The Republic is not what it once was. The senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates. There is no interest in the common good" and "the chancellor has little real power. He is mired by baseless accusations of corruption. The bureaucrats are in charge now." He asserts "best choice would be to push for the election of a stronger supreme chancellor, one who could control the bureaucrats and give us justice," advising Padmé to move for a vote of no confidence against the Chancellor. When she does, he tells her, "Now they will elect a new chancellor a strong chancellor... one who will not let our tragedy continue."

There's a reason why he chose Naboo, his own home planet to be invaded: he was nominated to succeed the Chancellor. As he says, "I feel confident our situation will create a strong sympathy vote for us. I will be chancellor." Who else would be seen by the Senate as the perfect candidate to put an end to corruption and take control of the bureaucrats, than the Senator whose home suffers the most because of the failure of leadership?

The treaty that was supposed to legitimize the invasion of Naboo if Queen Amidala signs it and gets ratified by the Senate serves the same purpose. The treaty would totally violate both Republic law and common sense, but we must remember that the Senate is without a real leader and bureaucrats are in charge, and their priority is not to exercise intelligent judgment or to respond to situations or the needs of the people - they care only about procedural correctness. They would ratify the treaty, because on paper, it has all the requirements that makes it enforceable. It would've been the ultimate proof that the Republic doesn't function, the laws are no longer enforced, that there's just no compassion and sanity in the Senate anymore. This is why Queen Amidala signing the treaty is so important to them - it would have caused panic, just like the Separatist crisis did in Attack of the Clones, leading up to granting Palpatine emergency powers. It would've quicken the process of the galaxy descending into the mentality that Anakin expresses to Padmé in Attack of the Clones: democracy is broken so the solution is a strong, wise leader who will solve the problems if he is given the necessary power to do so.

#george lucas #star wars #Star Wars politics #the phantom menace #trade federation #darth sidious #palpatine

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downbadf0rficppl · 9 months ago

Text

how to save a life

Poe Dameron x Ex-First Order!Reader

Summary: It took a lot of courage to escape from the grasp of the First Order, and even more to deliver yourself to the Resistance. But you did it. Months later - still not trusted by anyone in the Resistance - you vie to prove yourself once and for all. The perfect opportunity comes up when Mr. Face-of-the-damn-Resistance needs help.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Canon-level violence, injury, near-death experiences, mugging/street violence, Leia being mean because she's being protective, imprisonment.

Repost

It took a lot of gall to double cross the First Order. You had been stolen from your home planet as a baby and indoctrinated into the regime - you knew nothing else. You were strong with force. Supreme Leader Snoke was keen to have you on his side. He kept you as a prisoner - forced to do his bidding and his dirty work, with the threat of death looming over your head. You were too young to understand that Supreme Leader Snoke couldn’t afford to have you killed, no matter how often he threatened it.

You had escaped on a regular morning, using your standing as one of Snoke’s own to commandeer a ship and escape with a fleet that were on their way to deal with Resistance scum on a nearby moon. You landed over a mile away from the other Stormtroopers, your officer uniform making you stand out like a sore thumb. You ripped your jacket up, tearing it to shreds before throwing it into the trees.

The trek into the city was long, but you used it to disguise yourself further, untucking your shirt and ripping the sleeves, before rubbing dirt into your clothes and cheeks. With the few credits you hand and your First Order military pass, you managed to barter a ship that would allow you to get off the moon unnoticed.

You set off early in the morning, heading further into the outer rim where there was less and less First Order patrol.

You landed on one of the busiest planets of all: Daiyu. Daiyu was a planet known for its thriving underworld dealings - despite the First Order's many attempts to get it under control. No one would find you there. You hid amongst the low lives, stealing little to get by and trying not to draw any attention to yourself. You may have grown up in the shelter of the Supreme Leader’s gaze, but you knew the force. And you knew how to hide in it.

It took a lot of energy to hide yourself from the force. Especially considering Supreme Leader Snoke knew who you were, what you felt like. He reached out to you in the force, finger scraping you but never quite holding you long enough to gain a full picture. In the beginning, it had been hard to keep him out of your head when you were asleep - returning to the force always felt like the most natural state. A state of peace and serenity, an escape from the danger you had to evade at every waking minute.

No doubt, Snoke would send scouts out to find you. And when that failed, he'd put a pricey bounty on your head. You were right.

You'd met all sorts of hoodlums in Daiyu, and been beaten up by most of them too. But you wouldn't risk making yourself known to any of them by fighting back. Not when so many were looking for you. At the beginning, the price had been low - reasonable for someone of your lack of class and standing - but the price increased exponentially each day that passed.

It was months before you decided to venture back into living and not just hiding. You'd been monitoring the airwaves - the bounty on your head was reducing everyday - the value not nearly enough to pique the interests of the men of Daiyu. Clearly, Snoke had found someone else to chase.

You slowly allowed yourself to become one with the force again, practicing your mastery of it only when you knew others weren't watching - even if Snoke wasn't looking for you, Daiyu was the kind of place where even your friends would sell you out if they had something to gain from it. And you had no friends in Daiyu. You kept yourself blocked from the minds of Snoke and his protege, Kylo Ren, showing them misdirection every time they cast a net out for you. Your mastery was improving.

You found a job at a scrapping plant - measly pay but it was better than nothing. You clocked in and out at the same time every day, collecting your pay and rationing whatever you could buy with it. You still napped lightly in alleyways, avoiding the police officers who patrolled the streets at night to kick the homeless out of doorways.

You woke up to the ways of the real world really fast. The world was full of bad people with bad intentions. They beat you up in a back alley behind the plant, stealing your credits and your clothes before the whirring approach of police officers scared them away. You ran from the police too - not wanting to be turned into the First Order for disciplining.

The police officers were hot on your tail. You ran through the streets and the market, trying to find a place to hide. You dove into one of the mooring decks - where pilots would land their craft for the duration of their visit. You covered the identifiable logo on your chest with your arms, crossing them to seem more intimidating. You waited for the police to drive past before running in the opposite direction. Straight into the chest of someone.

He grabbed your arm tightly, leading you into another back alley. Shit. You were probably gonna be beaten up again or escorted to the police. You tried to struggle out of his grip, but it was vice-like around your arm. He clamped his other hand around your mouth, looking around for danger, presumably. You looked up at his face.

You knew that face. You'd seen it more than once in Kylo Ren's memories, and also posters around Coruscant when you were younger. Poe Dameron. The face of the Resistance.

He loosened his grip around you, as he reached up to speak into his comms. "Got a deserter. Gonna bring 'em in." Your heart plummeted. He marched you into the mooring deck, before grabbing some cuffs out of his plane. No one did a double-take. The security in Daiyu was far from the best. He cuffed your hands in front of you, before pushing you into the ship.

It was cramped inside the U-Wing, it wasn't built to seat 2 people. You sat huddled behind his seat, holding on for dear life when he took off and jumped to light speed. You groaned as you hit your head, which Poe gave a sympathetic 'sorry' to.

As you draw closer and closer to D'Qar, you feel a calming wave flow through you. It was as if someone was emitting a beacon for you to latch on to. You knew this feeling. Leia. You had known for years that Leia was strong with the force. She had to be, given Kylo Ren's prowess. But you didn't know just how strong she truly was. You tried to reach out to her through the force, but Poe interrupted you.

"10 minutes to landing. General Organa is expecting you."

The calmness evaporated. General Organa's presence in the force may be calming but you knew of her reputation as the General of the Resistance. She was ruthless.

They threw you into a holding cell - which realistically was just a room that didn’t unlock from the inside. You sat there alone - plagued by your own mind for the better part of the day. Each time footsteps passed by your door, you panicked. This is it. This is the end.

It was always a false alarm.

Someone was walking by, scurrying to briefings they were late for, or heading to the droid mechs because, ‘the damn droid went rolling into a wall again! That’s the third time this week!’

You don’t see Poe again - he’s a captain of the Resistance, you reason, he has better things to do than babysit a hostage. Because that’s what you were to them. Deserter or not, you weren’t one of their guys. And that made you dangerous.

You focussed your energy on trying to find Leia - maybe you could understand how to help her if you knew what her problems were. You needed her to trust you, that was the only way you’d be safe. You couldn’t find her between all the buzzing energies of the force. It was overwhelmingly loud. You pulled yourself away from the search, breathing heavy as you came down. You’d never been good at finding people in the force who didn’t want to be found.

A petite blonde woman came as the sun was setting, in her arms a tray full of food. You gorged yourself on it. The Resistance may not have had much but one thing they did have was good food. At least, better food than the First Order.

Leia walked in just as you were finished eating - she’d been waiting for you to finish, hoping that they’re small morsel of kindness would earn enough trust for you to tell them what they wanted to know.

She started softly, asking you questions about yourself and your role within the First Order. You told her half truths - you had been stolen from your home planet as a child and had been raised to be a spy for the First Order. Leia frowned at that, the small pieces of trust you had gained immediately being withdrawn.

She started to ask more interrogatory questions. What were the First Order planning? How were they expanding? Future targets?

You told them the truth. You didn’t know.

The truth wasn’t good enough.

Leia once again asked about the First Order’s plans. You didn’t know. She asked for the whereabouts of Snoke. You didn’t know. She asked, discretely, about her son. You didn’t know.

After an hour going head-to-head, yours was pounding. You’d been resisting her in the force and she was much stronger than you. Much more well practiced too. Your vision started to cloud as you begged her to believe you.

The First Order was good at compartmentalising. Only the people that needed to know, did. And you almost never needed to. Especially since Kylo Ren deemed you a flight risk - rightfully so, seeing as it was always your intention to escape.

Leia left the cell grumbling under her breath, muttering about how the First Order was insufferable. For all her abilities, she didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that you were strong with the force. All the better; less things to explain.

They kept you confined to the cell for quite a while after that. To be fair to the Resistance, they treated their prisoners far better than the First Order did. You had a feeling that they didn’t have much in the way of prisoners - given the lack of purpose built holding cells in the facility.

Your room was big - there was enough space to move around, keep active, meditate. There was a small fresher in the corner of the room and the bed you had was far more comfortable than the one you slept in every night on Star Destroyers. The light streamed in through the small window, and like clockwork, some poor person would bring you a meal every morning, noon, and night.

Aside from this though, you were bored. Inconceivably bored. You’d never had this much time to yourself before. Being under Snoke’s unrelenting gaze meant that you were always working - either practicing, or proving your worth. You had none of that anymore.

You spent the majority of your day honing your tracking skills. You tried to pick out people you knew - those with distinct feels. Those like Poe Dameron.

Poe had been on a new mission since the day after you landed on D’Qar - you’d asked one of the nicer people who brought you food a week after you arrived. He’d returned to Daiyu, trying to find an ex-First Order arms dealer. You had given a little information about the guy - how he was hiding from the First Order since abandoning their efforts to weaponise their young. That had earned you a little more favour in the eyes of the Resistance, but you were still fighting an uphill battle. It was no matter. You were safe here.

You felt him before anyone else. He had come out of hyperspace and wasn’t requesting permission to enter the airspace. You jumped out of bed. Something was wrong, you could feel it.

Poe had run into quite a bit of trouble on Daiyu. The intel you had given him was good. Not just good, it was great. They’d got some of the information they needed before police were knocking at the door, demanding to be let in. Poe ran. He ran with police on his tail, before escaping in his X-Wing. He jumped straight into deep space. Into enemy territory. He’d been recognised almost immediately - the X-Wing was a dead giveaway. He’d been chased for light years and shot at; his baby had taken some pretty nasty hits. He’d been grounded on Dantooine, the planet nearly deserted. And yet, it seemed just his luck that a few locals took offence to his presence. He’d sustained pretty bad injuries to his torso and left leg. He’d escaped as fast as possible - the loss of blood making his head spin. He entered through the atmosphere of D’Qar, eyes closing off their own accord. There wasn’t enough power in the ship to radio down to ask for permission, nor to land safely. He had to ground the bird.

You slipped your jacket that you had been given on, as well as your old shoes. You played with the lock on the door, having memorised the sound of the code from when you were brought food. You type in the code tentatively, thanking the Maker when the door whooshed open. You crept out, sneaking towards the main blast door. You could feel Poe slipping, feel him losing his touch. As soon as you were out on the ground, you sprinted.

Poe had angled the ship a few miles west of the base. It was still going to be a trek back to the base, but that was better than crashing on the runway; he’d never live that down.

You ran towards the trees, heading west. You could see the smoking ship in your peripheral vision.

Poe was lying on the grass when you got to him, eyes shut with his hand pressing on his side; there was blood everywhere.

Your hands cradled his face as you fell to your knees next to him. You ripped his shirt away - hands ghosting over his chest as you felt for his heartbeat. It was faint, but it was there.

You reached out to the force, pulling threads as you attempted to close up some of the wounds. The bleeding slowed as you pleaded with him; "Poe, come back! They need you, Poe!"

He sputtered suddenly, rolling onto his side, wincing as the newly healed skin stretched. You stayed by his side, hands still running up and down his body, trying to find any more injuries to heal. His breathing remained heavy, as he tried to recollect everything that happened. His hand flew to his side.

"How the hell did you do that?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"I don't," Poe looks at you questioningly, "It's only a matter of time before they realise I'm gone. Or one of them shows up here looking for you."

He shrugged in agreeance, lying back to face the sun, "How did you know I was here?" You laid back, head next to his. The sky was pretty - clear and bright. Maybe, they'd let you come back out here - watch the sun rise and set more. Maybe.

"I felt it. I could feel the disturbance - you were panicked." You whispered, trying not to offend him. It was the truth, but you knew how powerful men often hated the truth.

"Me? Panicked? Never. Have you met me?" His tone was coloured with laughter. You smiled.

You sat in silence for a long time, just enjoying the peace and quiet of the D'Qar weather, until you heard the med team running towards you.

"They're almost here. They're gonna take you to the med-wing. Fix you up. You'll be able to fly in no time." You gave him a watery smile. He gripped your hand tightly.

"I'll tell Leia. You saved my life - she'll ease up. You can train with her - she's - something - with the force. She can help you."

"NO!" You yelled, jumping away from him, "You can't tell Leia. You can't, you can't - promise me - PROMISE ME, POE - promise me, you won't tell Leia." He grabbed your hand and soothed you, promising not to tell Leia until you were ready.

He held your hand until the med team arrived and they ushered him onto a Gurney. He yelled at the two corporals left with you to be nice - "she saved my life!" he yelled as he was dragged away. They threw back in the same cell just the same.

It was two days before you saw anyone else again. You were provided food at every mealtime just the same as you had before - except there was no interrogation afterward. You preferred the interrogation. Made you feel... needed.

You knew that Poe had argued for you. You'd heard from two officers from data who were gossiping about it on the way to the Cantina.

"Did you hear?" One of them giggled.

"About the General and Poe. Of course!"

Poe had made the dash to see the General as soon as he was cleared from the med-wing. You'd saved his life. It was only fair that he do the same.

He walked - no, strutted - into the General's office in a very 'Poe' way, claiming that the matter was of the utmost importance. He gave his mission report - how the intel wasn't just good, it was "brilliant. It solved some of our supply issues, which means we're in a better place than ever to beating them. They have no blaster parts, no ship parts - the supply chain will be delayed for weeks." Leia had dismissed him after that.

The first sign of trouble should have been that. That Leia hadn't asked him about the trouble or berated him for getting into it. Instead, she was just letting him go.

Poe pushed the issue - he talked about the trouble and his destroyed X-Wing, and how he practically crash-landed into D'Qar because the police on Daiyu was "mad strict. Like they couldn't let a small thing like that go? Maker, what happened to that place?"

The second sign of trouble was the lack of warnings. Usually, Leia laid the 'be careful, don't get yourself killed,' warnings on thick. They were nowhere to be found.

The third sign of trouble was the glazed-over expression in Leia's eyes. Poe realised that he never had Leia's attention, to begin with. Leia's mind was completely preoccupied with the young girl in a cell, who'd risked her freedom to save a Captain. A man that she barely knew.

The bigger mystery was how had she hidden so successfully in the force - not only from Leia herself but from bigger threats, like Snoke and Kylo Ren.

Poe, mistaking Leia's confusion for anger, begged her not to hurt the girl. "She's just a kid, General, she was doing what she'd been taught." Leia sent Poe away, assuring him that she wasn't going to hurt the girl.

You felt Leia before you saw her. You'd fallen asleep with your back upright against the headboard, an awkward crick forming in your neck. Your eyes opened to Leia perched on the edge of your bed.

You jumped into apologies and pleas - "please don't send me back" and "I was just trying to help him - the med team wasn't going to get there in time."

You were surprised when you felt her hand brush up against your cheek, but you leaned into the touch all the same. She gazed at you so lovingly that for a moment you forgot that she was the reason you were locked in here.

"I was wrong." Her words stunned you, "I was wrong about you, and I apologise. You are safe here - to practice the force, or live without it. If you want to leave, I will find you a planet on which no one - First Order or Resistance - will find you. Should you wish to stay, I would welcome you with open arms, as would everyone else here."

You smiled at her, "I would like to stay - if that's ok?"

She smiled at you, standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll make sure you get your first flying session with Captain Dameron first thing in the morning. He said you had a knack for flying."

"Umm, General?" She turns to look at you, "If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer something on the ground? Something like controllership?" She smiled and nodded.

"I'll have Connix meet you in the morning, kid. Sleep well."

And you did. In fact, you had probably never slept better.

fin.

buy me a coffee

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #no y/n

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your-local-simp-writers · 7 months ago

Text

Threads of Gratitude

Word Count: 478

Warnings: None

Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

In the elegant quarters of Pomefiore, where beauty reigned supreme, you sat across from Vil Schoenheit, the dorm leader known for his impeccable standards and grace. The task at hand was a delicate one, requiring both creativity and dexterity: crafting friendship bracelets that would embody the essence of your bond.

Vil, with his usual poise, selected strands of silk thread in hues that matched the Pomefiore colors—purples and golds that shimmered in the light. “Remember, it’s not just about the aesthetic,” Vil instructed. “Each color, each bead, must have meaning. It should speak of the bond it represents.”

You nodded, your fingers fumbling slightly with the tiny beads. “I want mine to say ‘grateful’,” you said, concentrating on threading the beads onto the string. “Because that’s what I am for our friendship.”

Vil looked up from his work, his gaze appraising. “Grateful is a good choice,” he agreed. “It speaks of depth and understanding.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of beads and the occasional snip of scissors. You both worked in comfortable silence, the shared task creating an intimate atmosphere that was new to your friendship with Vil.

After a while, Vil broke the silence. “You have a steady hand,” he observed, watching as you tied a knot. “It’s essential for beauty. Precision is everything.”

You laughed, a little self-consciously. “I’m not sure about precision, but I’m doing my best.”

Vil’s lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile. “And that is all one can ask for,” he said. “Perfection is not about the absence of flaws, but the effort to rise above them.”

As you both finished your bracelets, you couldn’t help but admire Vil’s work. His was flawless, each bead perfectly aligned, each knot tight and secure. It was a reflection of him—meticulous and beautiful.

“Here,” Vil said, as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. “A perfect fit,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the bracelet. “A token of our friendship.”

You exchanged bracelets, and as Vil fastened the one you made onto his wrist, you felt a surge of pride. It might not have been perfect, but it was made with sincerity and care. Vil’s bracelet for you was exquisite, each knot and bead placed with precision and care. Yours, while not as flawless, was made with equal parts love and admiration.

“Thank you, Vil,” you said, feeling the weight of the bracelet on your wrist. “This means a lot to me.”

Vil nodded, his eyes softening. “And to me as well. We are, after all, reflections of those we hold dear.”

In that moment, with the sun setting outside and the room aglow with the golden light, you realized that the true beauty of your friendship wasn’t just in the shared interests or the laughter—it was in the moments like these, quiet and sincere, that you would treasure forever.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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Vice surrenders

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in LA with Adam Conover at Vroman's, then on MONDAY in Seattle with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

Vice died the way it lived: being suckered in by smarter predators, even as it trained its own predatory instincts on those more credulous than its own supremely gullible leadership. RIP, we hardly knew ye.

For those of you who don't know, Vice was a Canadian media success story. It was founded by a motley clique of hipsters, one of whom – founder of the Proud Boys – has since grown to be one of the world's great fascism influencers. Another perfected the art of getting young people to work "for exposure" even as he built a massive, highly lucrative media empire on their free labor:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/vice-oral-history/

Eventually, Vice transitioned to a string of progressively worsening corporate owners, each more dishonest, predatory – and gullible – than the last. The company was one of the most enthusiastic marks for Facebook's infamous "pivot to video" – in which Mark Zuckerberg destroyed half the media industry by tricking them into thinking that the public was clamoring for video content, based on fraudulent viewing numbers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pivot_to_video

Vice went all-in on video, spending hundreds of millions to finance Zuckerberg's doomed attempt to conquer Youtube. But unlike other the rubes who got zucked, Vice found greater fools to scam, convincing giant, slow-moving meidia companies that the best way to get in on the Next Big Thing was to shower them with vast sums of string-free money:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viceland_(Canadian_TV_channel)

And yet, at every turn, through a succession of increasingly incompetent owners who bought the stumbling, declining Vice at fire-sale prices and then proceeded to hack away at the wages and tools its journalists depended on while paying executives salaries so high that they beggared the imagination, Vice's reporters continued to turn out stellar material.

This went on literally until the last moment. The memorial posted by 404 Media rounds up a selection of major stories Vice's beleaguered, precarious writers produced even as Vice's vulture capitalist leadership were pulling the rug out from under them:

https://www.404media.co/behind-the-blog-vices-legacy-and-the-idea-that-the-internet-is-forever/

True to form, those private equity scumbags locked all those workers out of the company's CMS without notice – and then forgot to lock down the podcasting back-end. That allowed a group of Vice veterans – Matthew Gault, Emily Lipstein, Anna Merlan, Tim Marchman and Mack Lamoureux – to gather for a totally unauthorized, tell-all session that they pushed out on an official Vice channel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKT4OtDEJRA

It's a hell of a listen. Not only do these Vice veterans have lots of fascinating history to recount, but they also describe the conditions under which those blockbuster stories of Vice's final days were produced. As the "visionary leaders" of the company paid themselves millions, they halted payments to key suppliers, from Lexisnexis to the interview transcription service the writers depended on. Writers paid out of pocket to search PACER court records.

Not only did Vice's reporters do incredible work under terrible and worsening circumstances, but the Vice writers who got out ahead of the total collapse are also doing incredible work. 404 Media is a writer-owned investigative news publisher founded by four Vice escapees – Samantha Cole, Jason Koebler, Emanuel Maiberg and Joseph Cox, which is both producing incredible work and sustaining the writers who founded it:

https://www.404media.co/

All of which leads to an inescapable conclusion: whatever problems Vice had, they didn't include "writers don't do productive work" and also didn't include "that work isn't economically viable*. Whatever problems Vice had, they weren't problems with Vice's workers – it was a problem with Vice's bosses.

Which makes Vice's final, ignominious punishment at the hands of those bosses even more brutal, stupid and inexcusable. According to the leaked memos emanating from the company's investors and their millionaire C-suite toadies, the business's new strategy is abandoning their website in order to publish on social media.

This is…I mean, this,..

This is…

Wow.

I mean, wow.

The thing is, the social media business model is a giant rug-pull. They're not even bothering to hide their playbook anymore. For social media, the game is to encourage media companies to become reliant on third parties to reach their audiences. Once that reliance is established, the companies turn down – or even halt – the ability of those media companies to reach their audience altogether. Then, they charge the media companies to reach their audiences:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Now, this wasn't always quite so obvious. Back when Vice was falling for Facebook's "pivot to video," it wasn't completely obvious that the long con was to take your audience hostage and ransom them back to you. But deliberately organizing your business to be reliant on social media barons today? It's like trusting your money to Sam Bankman-Fried…in 2024.

If there was ever a moment when the obvious, catastrophic, imminent risk of trusting Big Tech intermediaries to sit between you and your customers or audience, it was now. This is not the moment to be "social first." This is the moment for POSSE (Post Own Site, Share Everywhere), a strategy that sees social media as a strategy for bringing readers to channels that you control:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/19/now-we-are-two/#two-much-posse

Predicting that a social media platform will rug the media companies that depend on it today doesn't take a Sun Tzu – as cunning strategies go, the hamfisted tactics of FB, Twitter and Tiktok make gambits like "Lucy and the football" look like von Clausewitz.

The most bonkers part of this strategy is that it's coming from private equity bosses, who laud themselves as the great strategists of the 21st century, whose claim on so much of our global capital and resources is derived from their brilliant insight, which allows them to buy "distressed assets" like Vice, "restructure" them to find "efficiencies" and sell them on.

The reality is that PE goons – like other financiers – are basically herding animals. Everyone's hit on the tactic of buying up beloved media companies – from the 150-year-old Popular Science to modern publications like CNet – and then filling them with spammy garbage in the hopes that Google will fail to notice and continue to award them pride-of-place on search results pages:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

The fact that these billionaire brain-geniuses can't figure out how to "turn around" a site whose workers a) produce brilliant, popular, successful work; and b) depart to found successful firms that commercialize that work tells you everything about their ability to spot "a good business opportunity."

PE – like other mafiosi – only have one business-plan, the "bust out," where you invade a business that produces useful things, force them to pay your chosen suppliers sky-high fees for things they don't need, extract massive fees for your "management" and then walk away from the collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

#pluralistic #vice #motherboard #posse #apps #enshittification #media #chumboxes #botshit #bust outs #news bailouts

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randomnameless · 10 months ago

Note

I think the writers didn't write set in stone rules for Crest so they could have a more varried experience for the cast and all but some of them just... makes me ask question. Like why is there so many in Empire people who have several crest, not only all of Mercedes and Jeritza's half siblings, but also Edelgard and Lysithea yet in other country they don't and it's not all people of the Empire because Caspar doesn't have one and Hanneman's sister doesn't have one...and then you learn that they experimented on Lysithea first when she is 2 years younger then Edelgard who was 14 when she was experimented upon by the Agarthans... just... what the heck is this game ?

Jugdral too apparently didn't have rules for Holy Blood inheritence!

But... the games aren't all gung-ho about blaming Holy Blood for everything wrong in this verse...

Granted, iirc, do we know if the Emile and Mercie's step siblings had crests? I thought their step father wanted to shag Mama Martitz to get crested more kids - bar Emile who was already a crested Bartels !

Also, Hanneman's sister had one, that's why she died when her hubby tried to re-roll many times to get a crested heir?

That's partly why I'm curious about Adrestia, because we know there are crested nobles/people who are either fit to be pawned off as wedding prizes, or they just... exist, and no one gaf about them.

There's a heavy dose of sexism in how the Empire deals with this issue, but tbh, I wouldn't say it's specifically a "crested" issue, but more one where... Adrestian's society sucks, because some people try to become "more powerful" by any means necessary, let it be alliances where they offer their daughters, getting "high valued" babies or just, getting rid of people because they can (house martitz, house nuvelle, etc etc).

Monica was adopted by Baron Ochs, but she wasn't offered to a potential husband who started to work on his legacy to get a trillion crested heirs.

Bergliez was retconned in Nopes to have a Cichol Crest, even if all of Caspar's supports in FE16 treated him as a "non important" member of the House not because he was crestless, but because he was a second son...

But in general, yep, at least in backstory, Adrestia has a lot of unnamed randoms with crests (which is represented in Nopes, some generics have crests!) and yet they're randoms and not the ones calling the shots, almost as if having a crest, or not having one, isn't as important as being born male to the right family.

(and I will die on this HC-hill, Adrestia must have a least 3 different branches of the Hresvelg House, meaning at least a dozen of legitimate randos with a Crest of Seiros, Supreme Leader must have had some cousins too, and we're not even talking about bastard children!)

#anon #replies #contrary to what ionius thinks #leicester isn't part of adrestia #Lys is from Ordelia localted in Leicester #crust system nonsense #this issue everyone is blaming is less of an issue but more something like #horrible people will take everything as an excuse to be horrible #no crust mean you suck? But even with crust you suck so #Adrestia stuff #the pre Supreme Leader state or Ionius' Adrestia really was a bleak place #and we don't know what Supreme Leader did during her tenure bar starting a war and letting Uncle run internal affairs in FE16 #I don't want WoH Adrestia to be perfect or a paradise #but at least i doubt it was a sucky as it is in the present #tfw wolf planned some reforms but 'was died' before the 7th year of his reign

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covid-safer-hotties · 2 months ago

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Key points you should know:

=Mainstream media coverage of mask bans has given space for politicians’ false claims that masks are associated with wrong-doing, like crime and antisemitism, while overlooking that bans are, in many ways, an effort to suppress the reality of COVID-19. =There are 21 states and numerous municipalities with laws against masks or disguises on the books. People who wear masks would benefit from knowing exactly how they are worded and any legal precedents, as police are often under-informed. =Both Republicans and Democrats are pushing more severe mask bans than ever before in history. Democrats are more likely to give lip service to health needs without offering meaningful protections. Masks can and will be criminalized by police regardless of the language of the law, as arrest trends follow social trends. Police are also permitted by the Supreme Court to make mistakes in enforcing laws.

On August 5, Nyss Fayrchyld traveled from New York City to Nassau County in Long Island with other organizers to testify against a local bill to ban masks. The next few hours were “traumatic” and “volatile,” they recalled, with supporters of the bill “yelling obscenities” at immunocompromised people who testified in masks, calling them ”pro-Hamas thugs and terrorists.”

Police also directed enforcement at people in masks. One masked attendee was arrested on several charges, including second-degree assault, a felony, facing up to nine years in prison. Fayrchyld insists that the person was de-escalating conflict, which seems corroborated by video evidence. Supporters of the ban were also given more time to speak.

Nassau County’s bill passed with a vote of twelve Republicans in favor and seven Democrats abstaining. The law includes a vague medical exemption but also gives police expansive powers to stop, unmask, and arrest people.

Fayrchyld witnessed the type of state-sanctioned hostility that has become increasingly common for people who wish to stay safe during the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. Nassau County is just the latest jurisdiction to pass a mask ban, after North Carolina and Washington, D.C. early this year.

New anti-mask bills were also recently introduced in Chicago, the New York State legislature, and the federal House of Representatives, which proposes a sentence of up to 15 years. Leaders in New York City and Los Angeles have discussed possible future bans, and other states are enforcing pre-existing anti-mask laws on the books. The University of Virginia has banned masks on campus, unless the person can show documentation of medical need.

While mainstream media stories about mask bans often mention that immunocompromised people might be harmed, these stories also give unskeptical space to politicians’ claims that increased mask-wearing has contributed to all kinds of wrong-doing, from crime to antisemitism. In reality, mask-wearing is increasingly rare compared to early in the pandemic. There are countries with far less violence than the U.S. where wearing a mask is normalized. One analysis found no correlation between mask bans and crime rates. Many pro-Palestine protestors are masking explicitly to prevent spreading COVID-19.

Most media coverage fails to connect the new wave of mask bans to the ongoing political efforts to minimize COVID-19. Overblown concerns about facial recognition and protestors are only possible with a concurrent effort to downplay the threat of COVID-19 and erase signs of it from public life — now a priority for most mainstream politicians.

While the conversation around mask bans has focused on new laws and bills, 21 states and many municipalities have laws banning masks and/or disguises in different settings, which is more than other organizations have reported. Even where these bans have apparent limitations or exemptions, the finer language of the laws leaves all COVID-conscious people vulnerable. And the historic practices of police endanger people even in states with no legal bans.

“We have come so far downhill when it comes to protecting one another that [supporting mask-wearing] is a controversial opinion to have these days,” said disability activist and author Imani Barbarin. The political climate, she said, “creates this perfect storm where it’s going to further criminalize Black and Brown people who need masks to survive.”

The politics and propaganda of mask bans Historically, mask bans tend to come in waves. This current wave has been led by Republicans, with Democrats following closely behind. While Democrats tend to pay slightly more lip service to health needs, their actions undermine their promises.

The Republican effort to ban masks started before the COVID-19 pandemic, with a series of bills aimed at antifascist protestors. In 2011, Occupy Wall Street protestors were arrested for wearing masks. Republican leaders reignited their efforts in early 2023, introducing bills that sought to end the COVID-19 era of masking altogether.

Republicans insist mask bans have been around for a long time. But their recent efforts go further in criminalizing masking than ever before. North Carolina’s new law requires members of the public to “remove the mask upon request by a law enforcement officer,” for any reason, for as long as police want. Previously, the state’s law limited this demand to traffic stops and when police believed someone was committing a crime.

The new provision “smacks of blatant authoritarianism,” said Corye Dunn, Director of Public Policy for Disability Rights North Carolina. North Carolina’s mask ban also adds a new provision requiring a person wearing a mask to “temporarily” remove it at the request of an “owner or occupant” of a “public or private property.”

“Occupant doesn’t mean anything” in state law, Dunn said. She’s concerned that this “dangerous” provision will “embolden bullies and set up people with disabilities to face hostility” from fellow citizens demanding mask removal.

Elaine Nell, who co-founded the group Advocates for Medically Fragile Kids NC, is “angry, sad, and scared” about how the law might be enforced when it takes effect in October, especially in public spaces: “You get jury duty [and you] may not be able to wear a mask.” Nell is also concerned about her medically vulnerable children, who already lead restricted lives. “This may just take away even more,” she said.

Meanwhile, the conservative Manhattan Institute for Policy Research recently proposed a mask ban template focused on protests that don’t include any health exemption. While the Institute doesn’t pretend that COVID-19 is over, the template outlines a grim scenario: “Someone who wears a mask for health reasons probably should not be congregating in large groups of people.”

This statement suggests that immunocompromised people shouldn’t have the right to protest, work, or exist in crowded spaces, harkening back to the “ugly laws” that once forbade disabled people from being in public.

Democrats in the New York legislature proposed a mask ban bill similar to the Manhattan Institute’s template, with a medical exemption that only applies during a “declared public health emergency.” On paper, the federal government ended the COVID-19 emergency in 2023.

Across the country, Democrats are proposing mask bans based on flimsy and inconsistent logic, often citing incidents in which the main aggressors weren’t even masked. New York City Mayor Eric Adams, a former police officer, might be the one Democratic leader willing to make the subtext clear. He has expressed the desire to “go back to the way it was pre-COVID” by banning masks on subways, in stores, and in “other areas where it is not health-related” — as if there are any locations where health is not an issue.

Adams articulated out loud the Biden administration’s consistent priority: to erase the signs of COVID-19, or, as the podcast Death Panel calls it, the “sociological production of the end of the pandemic.” This started in the spring of 2021 when the CDC proposed that vaccinated people no longer need masks. The administration has also steadily chipped away at COVID-19 data collection efforts.

Mask bans are the latest step towards that goal, further disincentivizing the public from wearing them for protection. Biden administration leaders have explicitly associated mask-wearing with unnecessary, humiliating, and “fringe” behavior. And Biden recently insisted that he “ended the pandemic,” just before he reportedly caught COVID-19. His administration has been able to erase almost all signs of COVID-19 besides the viral illness itself.

How police criminalize masking On August 22, Disability Rights New York filed a lawsuit challenging the Nassau County mask ban by invoking the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). But mask ban enforcement won’t rely on the determination of the courts alone. Political propaganda against masking is likely to influence how police criminalize masking, as arrest trends follow social trends more than laws.

Before COVID-19, mask bans were among the obscure laws rarely enforced by themselves, though police have long used face coverings, particularly ski masks, as a pretext to stop and search people. Elijah McClain was stopped by police in 2019 in large part for wearing a ski mask, or “looking suspicious,” and was killed while in custody. Yet Colorado has never had any kind of mask ban, giving police no justification for the stop.

Supreme Court decision Helen v. North Carolina (2014) allows police to be “reasonably mistaken” in their understanding of the laws they are hired to enforce. Police commonly arrest people for legal knives and other weapons due to poor training and bias. People may lose days, weeks, or months of income while in jail — and exposure to a deadly and disabling virus — before prosecutors or judges catch up to police mistakes.

It doesn’t help that anti-mask laws have always been ambiguously written, contributing to “reasonable” misunderstandings and decades of legal testing in the courts. New York’s proposed law would ban masking during “lawful or unlawful assembly or riot.” But “New York, unhelpfully, does not define a local assembly in law,” said Allie Bohm, Senior Policy Counsel at the American Civil Liberties Union of New York.

Bohm is concerned that D.C.’s new law — which outlaws masking while committing a crime or “threats to do bodily harm” — is “just giving police freedom to stop anyone in a mask,” even without justification. Similar laws exist in Arizona, California, Michigan, and many other states.

Bohm’s fears were confirmed by the D.C. law’s sponsor, Councilmember Brooke Pinto, who said the law was intended to give officers “a basis for a stop, for articulable suspicion.” D.C. police officers were sent a memo summarizing the new law without additional formal training, according to emails from the Metropolitan Police Department.

Bohm identified a fundamental legal problem with most mask bans: “We will always be in the position of law enforcement deciding whether the person in front of them is masking for a ‘legitimate’ reason.” Most anti-mask laws assume that police can properly judge “intent” and behavior despite studies showing that such judgment is colored by racial and other biases.

Dunn recalled one North Carolina legislator saying in a hearing, “Nobody is looking to go after ‘meemaw’ at the Walmart,” referring to an older woman. The statement explicitly identified the kinds of “selective enforcement” likely to happen around masking, Dunn said. She has coached the family of one North Carolina Black teenager, whose immune system is suppressed from leukemia treatments, on how to balance his health needs with staying safe during a police interaction — what she calls a “horrifying choice.”

What should people who wear masks do now? (Nadica suggests reading up on illegalism. sorry for interrupting.) Unfortunately, marginalized people might not be able to rely on all of the organizations that have historically fought for their rights. Both the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People in New York and the National Urban League support New York’s proposed anti-mask law.

People who wear masks should consider learning the finer details of the laws and precedents in their states and cities, given that police may not be well informed. Does your state require “intent to disguise” your identity for masking to be illegal, as in D.C.? Then you can cite the law and try to assure police that your intention is health-related.

Bohm advises people who wear masks in New York, if confronted by police, to state that they are worried about COVID-19 and ask if they can leave, as there is no current mask ban in effect. Dunn recommends North Carolinians invoke their desire to “prevent the spread of contagious disease,” citing the language of the new law’s very narrow medical exemption. Disclosing a medical condition might seem like a good strategy, but it’s worth keeping in mind police bias: half of people killed by police are disabled.

More broadly, activists need to build solidarity among all of the groups affected by mask bans, including disabled people, pro-Palestine protesters, religious minorities, people of color, and LGBTQ+ people. Some of the laws that ban disguises have been used against trans people.

Barbarin even thinks it would be smart to “hop on personal liberty” as a way to associate masking with American freedom, which she acknowledges is not “in vogue” on the left. The Klan has long been a plaintiff in lawsuits to end mask bans, and Proud Boys, a right-wing extremist group, often cover their faces.

In order to further broaden support against mask bans, the public needs to understand that COVID-19 is still a serious risk. Beyond that, the media needs to communicate that stopping legal bans — or adding medical exemptions — won’t be enough to protect people from police. It will take changing the political discourse around masking altogether.

#stop mask bans #mask bans #covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #public health #still coviding #wear a respirator

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littlebugs · 1 year ago

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lady ren

summary: you're kylo ren's wife. the resistance thinks he's taking advantage of you, but little do they know... warnings: reader goes by she/her pronouns, short reader, major character death, no y/n use, reader was a jedi, kylo ren is a warning himself.

(my works are diverse to all races and ethnic backgrounds, as a mixed race girlie i feel yall's pain my fellow poc's)

a/n: i've been gone far to long, but i've discovered the beauty called kylo ren. also he looks so hot in that gif.... love dat emo space daddy.

When Rey first saw you, you were on Jakku. Surrounded by The Knights of Ren, you looked tiny, your arm latched onto Kylo's waist as he towered over you, looking brooding in his mask. You had vanished shortly after, but Rey had gotten a glance at you. Beautiful. Shiny hair, glowing skin. But not...evil. You didn't look like you belonged with the First Order. In fact, you gave off an aura somewhat like a Jedi.

Little did they know... you had been. You and Kylo were both trained under Luke Skywalker to become Jedi, and had become close friends, although Skywalker had tried to split you up. The darkness in Ben had slowly grown into you, and the night that Luke tried to kill him was the breaking point. You had ran and joined the First Order. At first you kept mostly to yourself. Following Ben- now Kylo, wherever he went. As he slowly gained respect in the First Order, and caught attention of Supreme Leader Snoke, so did you. You were both praised for leaving the Jedi, and soon people became afraid of Kylo... but they might as well have been more scared of you.

You were quiet, but you were also funny, even in the gravest of situations, which was somewhat disconcerting. Although you usually listened, rather than talked, when you did have something to say, everyone listened. Not to mention the fact that you bested some of the First Order's most prized soldiers. You were Kylo's closest confidant, his only friend, and the only one who could calm him down (especially when he decided to wreak havoc on some poor lab tech's control panel.)

It was no surprise when he asked for your hand in marriage, and you got engaged. Kylo wanted the wedding to be perfect, waiting to become officially married until you could both return to his home planet, Chandrila. But there was much to do before that.

Rey told Leia and Han of their son's mysterious mistress. The beautiful woman, standing in the heat of Jakku. Of course, they were shocked, at the mere thought of their son having... anyone. But intead of elation, as a mother might usually feel for a son, General Organa felt worry. She had no idea who this woman was, if her son was using her, or if it could be the other way around.

Han had been worried too. But it was his nature to be more curious. So when he first saw you, watching from a bridge above, guarded by two of The Knights of Ren, he had to wave, and you waved right on back. You tapped the ring on your finger and smiled, doing a little dance. But wherever you were, Kylo was always nearby, and as you watched Kylo storm onto the bridge to see his father, you grimaced and pointed at the flurry of darkness.

Rey and Finn watched you, perplexed, as to how someone could take the entire situation so lightly. "Who does she think she is?" Finn had asked, slightly annoyed. "I don't know" Rey replied simply, watching intently as Kylo approached his father, and you leaned over the railing slightly smiling.

Kylo turned back to look up at you, just before approaching his Han, and you audibly giggled. Rey had scoffed. Rey and Finn's eyes bounced between the scene unfolding before them, with you, talking quietly to the two knights, Ushar and Vircrul, and Kylo and Han, seemingly... rekindling?

And finally... Kylo took his helmet off. It dropped to the ground. He quickly looked at you, and you winked, biting your lip. Vircrul probably snorted (but he would never admit it.) And just as Kylo was about to shockingly give his lightsaber to his father...

Rey and Finn watched in horror as the lightsaber went through Hans. They were both frozen in shock, and looking up, expecting you to see the same. But you weren't terrified. You weren't even shocked. You simply smiled down on Kylo, and made your way down to see him. As Han's body fell of the bridge, you squealed in delight. You picked up Kylo's mask, rose up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the nose, and simply placed his helmet on his head again.

As Rey rushed to escape, followed by Chewie and Finn, she thought she couldn't have been more wrong about the Lady Ren.

#star wars #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x fem reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren fluff #the force awakens #kylo ren blurb #kylo ren x wife reader

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kingdomhate · 6 months ago

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Painting with Them Scenarios!

Kylo Ren: Has he ever even touched a paintbrush before? No. And he's never seen a canvas before, but you seemed so adamant, so determined to do such a thing and show him a relaxing pastime.

When Kylo was not so caught up with his Supreme Leader duties, or worrying about the future of the First Order, he was with you, watching as you methodically dipped the tip of the brush into the warm water, wiped the droplets off on the towel, ran the bristles over the desired paint and starting brushing away. In moments like these, he would never speak, because he could swear your relaxation fueled his own.

Pretty soon, he was following you, side by side with you as you submerged yourself in the soft brush of the paints and how all of it came together to form a beautiful picture. He would never admit it, but when you had your hair back, in the messiest bun, your eyes gleaming with sparkles of happiness and firm with concentration, eyebrows tinged with how engrossed you were in the sway of your brush, he would whisper to himself that you were beautiful, usually followed by a love confession in his head.

It brought a smile to his face every time, made him feel like the world stopped and the universe was at both of your feet, even if for a second or two.

Anakin Skywalker: It was his idea, and you agreed because it brought that crooked grin that you secretly loved to his face (and he finally put a sock in it). So, he was instantly using the force to bring the canvas, the stored away brushed and paint away as you readied the container for the water and a towel.

He sat down and brought you to his lap, as he smiled at you. "We'll do a little project, yeah? Just you and me, cupcake." He kissed your cheek and wet his brush, wiped it off and dipped it into the paint. He stared intensely at it as he started and you followed soon after, even with no words, you both worked in sync. No words needed to be spoken in a moment like this.

At the Temple Anakin was a Jedi, but at your palace, behind the four walls that surrounded the two of you, he was yours and you were his. You both painted for hours, taking occasional water, bathroom or cramped hand breaks. The project was coming together; a painting of both of you, by the balcony, gazing out at Coruscant with firmly held hands.

Anakin gazed at you, that cocky grin plastered on his face as you both finally left the painting out to dry. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you like a feather as he brought you to your feet on the floor, and leaned down to brush over your cheeks, that glint in his eyes hinted at adoration, love and affection, but also a primal need to protect you from any and everything. The look that made a shiver run up and down your spine as he brought you in for a slow, passionate kiss.

The Anakin Skywalker glare.

Luke Skywalker: Much like Kylo, Luke has never touched a paintbrush or heard of paint. Poor baby would look at you confused, tilting his head as he tried to make out your words in Tatooine moisture farmer language.

But he was eager to learn! The first time you and him painted together, he was clumsy and dropped the brush a few times, splattering paint on the floor that he (messily) cleaned up. But he got the hang of it and quite frequently tugged you along to paint with him. It felt intimate to do something like this. To pour your heart out on this canvas and turn it into a sentimental image that you both would work hours to perfect.

His oceanic eyes would skim over your paintings everytime, and he plastered them up around his room, as if they were posters of his favorite music band or interest. They were yours, and they were sacred. In return, you had a few (thousand) of his in yours as well, even if you both shared a bedroom, you had his very first painting that you held dear the most, but all the others. That smile on your face, the paint that somehow would get smeared on your face, and coat your fingers, made him melt. He loved you. And every single time you looked so naturally or did something that others would deem silly or odd, he could hear a voice in his mind saying you were precious.

And what he would give to see the sight of you smiling, the radiance in your face, that gleam in your eye when you looked so messy, so unorganized but somehow heavenly.

A little something for my soon vacation (I'll be gone for like 3 months, but no worries, I will be posting or trying to post a short blurb in a sec <3)

#star wars #fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #its been like 4 years #school ends tomorrow TvT

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kitasgloves · 9 days ago

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Every Breath You Take

tracklist

— ♬ "Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you"

— ♬ Jouno Saigiku x Reader, SFW, gender-neutral reader, depictions of stalking, obsessive behavior, SA, and assault, 3.4k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

Despite his composed demeanor, Jouno Saigiku held a fierce temper. Jouno has mastered perfecting his mask to conceal his true emotions. He was calculative and strict with his job as a Hunting Dog. In his perception, holding the title of a Hunting Dog means the authority of justice over everything else. Justice reigns all and is supreme. As a Hunting Dog, you must ensure that justice prevails, one way or another.

Jouno knew that being a Hunting Dog doesn't mean you're supposed to be a goody-two-shoes. Hunting Dogs were the most flawed organization keepers of justice. In other words, corrupt. He accepted that long ago when he took this job. He was the prime example of public evil. No matter how many criminals he torments, he knows society will only give him praise and success for it. And for that, Jouno believed he was the best amongst the Hunting Dogs, not that there was a competition. It was only for his ego to believe he was the best.

He had no comment when it comes to his methods on ensuring justice as a Hunting Dog. Admittedly, he enjoys tormenting criminals and civilians alike to get his way in enforcing justice in society. A sadistic side within him revels with pleasure at the despair of others. He does not care if he comes across as cruel if it's necessary to his occupation. And he did find pride in his job as a Hunting Dog, he did get along with the rest of the Hunting Dogs, and even the leader. He does his job strictly and he has nothing to worry.

Jouno lived a solitary life and did only what he thinks is fit. There are instances where he makes attempts to get along with other members of society but only results in failure. It's either they irk him, or he makes them frightened. It's probably because of his superhuman capabilities required as a Hunting Dog. Jouno possessed an impressive sense of perceptiveness that filled in for his blindness. He had an accurate sense of touch, smell, hearing, and even taste. He can hear heartbeats clear as day and sense emotions without even seeing a person's face. That paired with his intimidating behavior wasn't favorable to some.

It's logical to accept that he can't please everybody, and he won't break his back trying to win someone's favor. If Jouno was disliked, so be it. If he was hated, he didn't care. If he was a second option or the last choice, he'd just smile it off and walk away. It was ideal to not lead a life to be someone he's not to be accepted. He recalled all the people he had saved before in his job. He was praised and admired for it. As he would put it, Fukuchi Ochi made the mistake of teaching him the joy of protecting someone.

Although Jouno has cruel tactics and enjoys the anguish of others, he has learned to long for the joy of being a protector of society. To think people, depend on him for protection strokes his ego. He must do whatever is necessary for the safety of all, even if it means hurting or cornering others and hearing the sounds of their destruction, he'll do it in the name of the law.

Now, Jouno was not new to civilians who despised the law, who thought the government was exploiting them, and thought the system was rigged. He'd scoffed and thought how incredibly stupid those people were. For the most part, those types of people were deranged, and careless, and enjoyed protesting and demanding their 'rights'. Jouno never paid them no mind and sometimes enjoyed laughing at their foolishness. Until he has encountered you.

You were caught up in a conflict when a mentally unwell man decided to make a bomb threat at a public establishment. Naturally, people were horrified and tried to contact the police. Jouno was notified to take care of the situation. It was effortless, he has captured the man and reassured everyone. He did his usual fashion of ridiculing and tormenting the perceived criminal before making an official arrest. You witnessed everything with an unamused brow. Jouno could sense your annoyance when you looked at him.

"You're torturing a clearly mentally challenged man for the bomb threat instead of arresting him peacefully. God, you law enforcement have no regard for a person's well-being"

You have genuinely surprised Jouno with your remark that he stopped dead on his tracks. He turns around and realizes that there wasn't an ounce of regret for your statement. His smile twitches as he marches over to you, prepared to put you in your place. But he notices how you stood unshaken by his presence as you crossed your arms.

"What? Are you going to arrest me too? Oh please, that's all you guys ever do. You 'punish' people who have the right to say whatever they like"

Jouno furrowed his eyebrows when he hears you scoff, he was thinking of his brutal rebuttal, but you continued.

"If you're going to say what I said isn't true, but why do you seem affected?"

He can feel your smirk, and his heart skips a beat. He has never encountered someone as cheeky and confident as you, ready to stand up against a powerful figure like himself. Jouno clenched his fists as if he's about to hit you, but he holds himself back as he gives you a tight smile.

"Be careful what you say next time or it's not going to end well for you"

You laughed and rolled your eyes before strolling away. Jouno gritted his teeth and tried to calm his nerves. People like you have never learned the consequences of their actions, and he would love to teach you a lesson. Jouno keeps you in mind as he takes care of the remainder of his work. He decided to keep a tab on you. Given his position and capabilities, it wasn't difficult to find out who you were.

As suspected, you were a civilian. A decent member of the society who happened to be aware of the affairs involving the government. Jouno found records about you being an outstanding citizen. Oh please, you've got to have some sort of filth on you that he can exploit. Searching deeper, he unexpectedly falls into a rabbit hole. He collected information about your family, education, and job. He has found where you live and the places you frequent. He made copies of your important documents listed in the government such as your birth certificate and others. Jouno needed incriminating details about you, so he decided to follow you around disguised out of his uniform.

He followed you to work where you performed your job diligently, you got along with your co-workers and was well-liked by your superiors. On your day off, you would stroll around the city and even helping a few people along the way. Like helping an old lady crossing the street or getting a ball stuck on a tree for a group of children. Jouno grimaced at your benevolent exterior, you were too kind that it seems natural. He's convinced that the nicer you were, the more dirt you were hiding.

However, Jouno was only met with disappointment. He has followed you everywhere even to your home and he hasn't found anything to incriminate you with. Sure, there was an option to fabricate evidence to destroy you, but the idea leaves a bad taste on his tongue. He wanted something raw that would bring you to your knees and beg him for mercy. As ironic as it was, you were a law-abiding citizen despite your distaste for the government. Jouno found your criminal record free of filth, this further fueled his frustration.

For the rest of his days, you occupied Jouno's thoughts. They were filled with contempt and interest that it was puzzling to describe it. You looked upon others with kindness and yet you reserved detest for him. There must be a reason for it and he's eager to find it. Jouno continues to follow you until you have accidentally bumped against him in public. His breath hitched at the moment, afraid that you'd recognize him. You staggered back as he reaches out to keep you from falling ungracefully on the concrete. You regained your balance and awkwardly laughed at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't see where I was looking. Are you okay, sir?"

You apologized to him, and he was momentarily taken aback. Jouno realizes that he is still disguised in casual clothes as he gives you a tiny smile.

".... It's okay. I'm good, thank you"

"Okay, have a good day, sir!"

You wished him well as you crossed the street. Jouno was left perplexed. He has experienced a sweet side of you, and he didn't know what to think of it. You probably only treated him differently because he was out of uniform. However, he can't cease his racing heartbeat. He imprinted your kind voice in his memory and the pattern of your heartbeat. You held no contempt in that interaction that it seems so unbelievable. This only encouraged him to follow you even more.

He gathered more things about you regarding your personality and habits. Jouno took note of your favorite flavors, your preferred piece of music, what type of jokes make you laugh, and your pet peeves. He knows about your guilty pleasures, your strange interests, and your fascinating ideals. What initially began as a quest for revenge evolved into unexplainable attraction.

It seemed as though his dislike for you dissipated the longer he observed you from afar. Jouno has learned to memorize your scent, your heartbeat, and your voice so that he can instantly recognize you within a crowd by instinct. He has kept multiple tabs on you. And he begins to slowly slack off on his job as a Hunting Dog. Nothing seems to interest him more but you.

Jouno has followed you to a point in your life where you went on blind dates, he took it as an advantage to figure out what was your type. Although nobody was successful in gaining your romantic interest, Jouno has learned something new about you: he wasn't your ideal lover. Not one bit. No matter how handsome, intelligent, or strong he was, you weren't going to fall for someone like him. He should've seen this coming and yet he's standing here with an ache in his chest.

Why the hell did it matter if he wasn't your type? Unless... oh god. Jouno took a step back and gulped. Was he seriously seeking a romantic relationship with you? That's fucking pathetic! He laughs. He laughs and he laughs. After the laughter, he's stuck to wonder, has he seriously developed feelings for you? No, it can't be. You hated him! It should be enough to stop pursuing you. However, Jouno finds himself unable to stop.

Every breath you take. And every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, he'll be watching you. Every single day. Every word you say. Every game you play, every night you stay, he'll be watching you.

Jouno couldn't fathom how you've captured his interest. Jouno could hurt you, make you cry, and you'd wish him dead. And it didn't draw him away. He would stay close with excitement in his spirit. He wanted to have you; it didn't matter if you hated him. He can be the only one who will tolerate you and he had already known so much about you.

Oh, can't you see? You belong to him. How his poor heart aches with every step you take. Every move you make. Every vow you break. Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, he'll be watching you.

Unfortunately, Jouno becomes inevitably busy with his duties as a Hunting Dog. With the new case involving the Armed Detective Agency, he needed to focus on his priorities. He hesitated but ultimately decided to stop following you. He thought it was for the best so he could diligently get back to his work without distractions. Oh god, he was wrong. Because you seem to plague his mind more now that he ceased pursuing you.

Each moment, no matter what he did, Jouno's mind trails back to you. He kept thinking about your adorable mannerisms and sweet voice. How are you? Did you water your plants? He hoped you were because he used to water them for you when you were too busy. He hopes your work wasn't stressing you out and that you'll resort to stress eating, he'll have to get rid of the unhealthy snacks in your cupboards soon. Have you folded your laundry yet? He remembers how piled up it was the last time he snuck into your home. He hopes you don't notice your missing t-shirt. And the missing pillow from your bed. Or the missing pair of used underwear.

Jouno sighs as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. His finger kept tracing the photograph of you that he printed. He smiles to himself as he makes out your features in his mind. The curve of your face, the shape of your eyes, the bridge of your nose, the plush of your lips, and the texture of your hair. Fuck, you looked so pretty. He wished he could see you even for a quick second despite his blindness. He wished he could feel the touch of your skin, bathe in the warmth of your body, or drown himself in your scent. Jouno feels restless while yearning.

Since you've gone, he's been lost without a trace. He dreams at night, and he can only see your face. He looks around and it's you he can't replace. He feels so cold, and he longs for your embrace. Jouno can't help but keep crying.

[Name], [Name], please

Can't you see? You belong to him. How his poor heart breaks, with every step you take. Every move you make. And every vow you break. Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, he'll be watching you.

You were experiencing a weird phenomenon. First, it began at home. You thought you were misplacing things around your home but then some of your personal items started to go missing. You were dumbfounded to find your plants watered but the snacks in your cupboard gone. Secondly, you feel like you're being watched. It makes you shudder out of nowhere especially when you're all by yourself. When you're traveling to work you feel like you're being followed, and it's the same after your shift. You made sure to double-check your locks before you went to sleep every night, but it doesn't get rid of the feeling.

Jouno thinks he can never go back. He can't reverse whatever he has done. The moment there was a window of opportunity to get off work early, he took it without any second thought. It was so unlike him, to think irrationally. Without even changing out of his uniform, he sneaks into your home effortlessly. It was the dead of night when he found you asleep in your bed. Jouno can hear your steady heartbeat and breathing and it brings relief to his senses.

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the mattress dip from behind you. Suddenly, your body turns cold. Your eyes go wide as your throat goes dry. You went still lying on your side as you felt something shuffling under the sheets from behind you. This must be some sort of dream, or nightmare! Someone was crawling into bed with you! And they're shuffling closer, and closer, and closer. Sheer terror grips your heart when you feel a pair of hands envelope your figure from behind.

Jouno senses your fear with ease, and it brings a wicked smile to his features. His hands shamelessly traced the shape of your body before resting them right below your breast. He presses his torso against your back as he pulls your rigid body close. He takes a sniff of your washed hair, and he moans in satisfaction.

"I know you're awake, dear"

He speaks. You were beyond petrified to answer. Your lip wobbles as you mind scrambles around trying to think of an escape plan.

"How cute. You were quick to speak in our first encounter but now you're quiet as mouse"

Jouno chuckles. He feels you shivering in his hold and it only makes him pull you closer. As your eyes turn wet, you swallow anxiously.

"Wh—Who are you?"

He doesn't answer and instead starts to place kisses along your neckline making you shudder in horror and disgust. Jouno has longed for this, and he deserves to have a taste of you.

"Please st—stop! No! Please—"

You frantically start peeling yourself away from his strong embrace as he continues to plant wet kisses on your exposed skin. You groaned as you tore yourself away from Jouno making him frown. The darkness of your room made it hard to see his face, the moonlight from your window provided a faint outline of him. You scowled at him and forcefully tried to shove him off the bed, he clicked his tongue as he swiftly grabbed your arms.

"Stop that or you'll regret it"

"No! Let me go! What the hell do you want from me?!"

Jouno feels you struggle against him in your bed. He growls as he keeps you in place by crawling on top of you. The sound of you whining and groaning fills the room.

"Keep still!

"No! Get away from me!"

You screamed but you were silenced when he smacks you across the cheek with the back of his hand. Jouno sighs as he hears you whimper afterward. You start to hiccup as he senses your stuttering breath.

"Please, don't kill me..."

You pleaded. Usually, the sound of tears brought him joy. However, your crying made his chest constrict. He contemplates for a moment with your sobbing echoing in the room. You gasped and sighed in relief when Jouno releases his hold on you. His hand reaches to caress your cheek.

"I won't kill you, unless you decide to test me, darling. Try reporting this to the authorities and I would guarantee you that nobody would believe you"

Jouno threatened and you nodded vigorously through tears. He smiles at your submission, and he presses a kiss on your forehead.

"If you try anything funny, I will have to reprimand you. I'll be watching you"

Your tears blurred your vision as your immense fear made you unable to fight back or recognize the stranger who seemed to have some sort of sick obsession of you.

"Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you"

I'll be watching you

His voice filled your heart with pure dread. He must be the one who's been following you around! God, you feel sick. To imagine him stalking you and watching your every move solidifies the terror that you will be experiencing for the rest of your days. He chuckles cruelly at your fear-stricken face.

I'll be watching you

Every breath you make, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, Jouno will be watching you. His blindness won't hinder him from following you around and finding out what you will be doing.

I'll be watching you

You feel him step back and get off the bed. You sniffed as you watch him ominously walk out of your bedroom door with that horrifying grin on his dark face.

I'll be watching you

Every game you play, every night you stay, Jouno will be watching you. Even as he leaves you tonight, petrified beyond belief, he will make sure to never leave permanently in the future.

I'll be watching you

You couldn't catch up to your breath as you heart raced. All you could think about is his horrifying voice, leaving you helpless with fear knowing this might not be the last encounter with him.

I'll be watching you

Jouno will hold his word. He shall forever torment you this way for being tormented by the fact that you'll fall for him. If he can't get you to love him, then he'll make you fear him. That way, you'll be thinking of him always.

I'll be watching you

Every single day, every word you say, every game you play, every night you stay, he'll be watching you. And you are unable to reach out for help because he will kill you. Struggling to breathe within the sheets, you sobbed uncontrollably at the fact that you'll never be free from him.

I'll be watching you

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs jouno #bsd jouno saigiku #bsd jouno #jouno saigiku #jouno x reader #jouno x you #jouno saigiku x reader #Spotify

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