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butterfluffy · 2 years

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“bitter end”

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· tired of all the fights in this unhappy marriage of yours with your husband, you finally had enough, now having the courage to take your wedding ring off, putting a bitter end to your relationship.

⠀⠀➧ angst, pure angst | kid, law, zoro x f!wife!reader | multi-character oneshot/scenario

⠀⠀➧ warnings — swearing, arguing, slight violence, break-up (separation/divorce, really) and angstttt...! mistakes may be present too.. so do ignore them, thanks!

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed until further notice! but i do take requests here and there, though it'll take me some time to finish 'em..!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: mhhhmmm, good smell, angst. 🥰 i originally wanted this to be hcs but nah, this is much more painful~ alt title; taking your ring off after a fight.

ps. i can, and i will make a part 2, one day, but not today, hehehehehe. 👻

like this? then check this out for more pain~! :)

EUSTASS KID

“yo, i'm home..” eustass kid, your husband announced, arriving home at 3AM after spending his night partying with his friends, getting drunk and having fun—living a teenage life despite having a wife, which is you.

“wow, welcome back. seems like you're done enjoying your life to the fullest.” you said monotonously with an eye roll, sitting on the couch with crossed legs as kid snickered, wobbling to you with a stupid smile on his face.

“yeah, 'twas a fun night, such a shame that i gotta go home bacause your were bombarding my phone with calls and messages.” he says with a scoff, catching you off guard, head snapping to him immediately. “excuse you?”

“‘such a shame’? kid, what the fuck? do you not know that you're a married man—!?” “so what if i'm married!!? am i not allowed to have fun, hah!?” kid grumbles, cutting you off, frowning as he spoke. while you, on the other hand, gasped by his words. not being able to believe that your husband had said such response.

“kid, i'm saying that you aren't supposed to be always living a teenage life when you have a wife!” you defend, getting agitated. “it frustrates me that you arrive late and drunk, worse, i experience this shit of yours almost every day!”

“well why can't you just let me be!? you nosy assed woman!” shouts the male, pushing you aside before he stomped to the kitchen, getting himself water as you stood frozen in place for a few moments—soon following him with a teary, frowning look on your face.

“eustass kid.” you called, catching the annoyed tulip-haired man's attention. “i want to remind you that i am your wife. your wife who longs for you—but it seems like you don't feel the same, huh?”

raising his non-existent brows, kid then puts a ‘hah?’ expression on his face, looking at you before speaking up. “what the hell are ya fuckin' talkin' about?”

“you don't even treat me like i'm your wife, kid. and—and it raises a question in me; why? why did you even marry me? did you do so just for fun? but, you know, i—i don't think i can keep up anymore. let's.. end this. go ahead and live a teenage life as you wish, without me, your nosy assed wife.” you sighed out, taking your ring off and returning it to the now stunned kid who seemed to immediately sobered up, holding you by your wrist to prevent you from going anywhere further from him.

“fuck, no, you're not—we're—we're not ending anything, no, no. i'm not letting you go—i'm—i messed up, i know, so i'm sorry. don't.. d-don't give an end to us that quickly... please.” kid begs with a stammer, voice turning small as his chest heaved up and down, panting as he held his tears back knowing that you are serious with your words. “...sorry too. but i really can't anymore. so please, let's just put this to end, let's end this relationship of ours.”

TRAFALGAR LAW

“again. he's home late, again, and forgotten our anniversary, again.” you whispered to yourself, biting your lower lip in anger as you stood in front of the door of your shared home with your husband, trafalgar law who seemed to just arrived after you've waited for him for hours on your anniversary.

“trafalgar d. water law, you're home late, again.” you growled with a big frown on your face, arms crossed as you called your husband by his full name, only to be silently cursed by the raven-haired male.

“fucking hell... not now, y/n-ya. don't start a fight now. i'm tired, i want to sleep.” passing you, law headed upstairs to your room while you grit your teeth in anger, following him up with loud shouting, and stomping.

“law, i can't—i can't fucking believe you..!” storming in the room and swinging the door open to reveal your husband who you saw sitting up, preparing to sleep, rolling his eyes at you, looking at you in disdain.

“i told you, i have no time for this, y/n-ya. i don't wanna fight, i wanna rest.” he repeats, scratching his head in annoyance—while you, on the other hand stood like a stone by the door, a heavy sigh leaving your lips, and soon later, tears streamed down your face.

“what the—what drama is this now? i just arrived late because of work, it's not a big deal for you, since you're used to this right? so stop that crying and just sleep or something.” clicking his tongue, law then went ahead and laid himself down the bed to rest, brows still stitched to a frown.

“yeah, it's not a big deal, for you,” you said with a swallow, fist clenched tightly before continuing, “it's not a big deal that you're making your wife wait for you for hours every single day for your arrival, and today, which is our goddamn anniversary that is not a big fucking deal at all, yeah?” you croaked, wiping your tears away—your words striking a realization to law. shit.

“unhappy anniversary to you, law. don't worry, this will be the last time i'll be waisting my time waiting for someone who thinks that i'm not a big deal. now, good bye, law. enjoy yourself all alone on our anniversary.” you greeted, swallowing back your sobs as you took your ring off, causing law to shakily stand up, stumbling to you the instant he had grasped what you're implying.

“no, no, no, y/n-ya, honey—shit, i'm—i'm sorry, so please, don't do this. i love you, fuck. i'll do better, i'll change, please, please.” letting a string of pleads leave his mouth pathetically, law held you tight, taking the ring and trying to put it back to your finger as you shook yourself away from him.

“NO! this is the fucking end of us. you told me that you're tired, right? well i'm tired too, so fucking tired of keeping up with you, and keeping this marriage alive myself! i've been hurt so much, and i can't do this anymore, so let me go, trafalgar.”

RORONOA ZORO

slamming the door close after spending your day waiting for your husband, zoro, who never showed up for your date, you let a loud screech. tossing away your bag then stomping to the kitchen—greeted by the moss head who was drinking sake.

“oh my fucking god, zoro! where the hell were you!?” you exclaimed furiously, snatching the bottle of sake from your husband, pouring it down the sink before throwing it away, anger filling you up.

“what the hell's wrong with you..? i was drinking that, you know? and before you get mad, i was here, the whole entire day, you crazy bitch.” zoro grumbles, slumping himself against the wall as you gasped, totally out of words.

this is.. annoying, frustrating—rage, and sadness is eating you up as you stared at the moss head who was frowning, same as you who clicked your tongue.

“you're—this—this is absurd, zoro. i cannot with this! first, you refuse to spend your dearest time with me, your so-called wife. second, you missed our date that i arranged today, completely forgetting it. and third, you call me crazy bitch for wanting to be with you!”

“do you really love me or no!? because i don't think that you do, and it's painfully obvious!” you stated, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as zoro looked down to the floor, seeming guilty.

“..i do, i.. i love you.” zoro mutters, avoiding your eyes while you frowned by his words. “do you, now? i don't sense any sincerity with what you had said.”

“i am not happy by this, zoro. i don't enjoy this unhappy marriage of ours anymore.” pulling your ring out of your finger, you sniffled, stopping your tears as you looked at zoro, his mouth agape.

“so please, let's just give this an end, okay?” you mumbled, extending your hand that held your wedding ring to zoro who's lips quivered, tugging downwards, shaking his head.

“no... no, i.. i don't want to. i—no. let's fix this, please.” “..i don't think we can do that anymore, zoro.” trying to return the ring to you as he turned your plea down, zoro's world spun as be thought of his life without you..

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ishcliff · 25 days

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If its ok whats your biggest peeve with modern persona

this is going to sound so unbearable, i think, but Hear Me Out

to sum it up, i just think the writing is extremely careless and sloppy, and the formula is lazy.

i think i can safely say the only modern persona game i consider myself a fan of is persona 3. haven't played reload, but i love what i have seen and also love FES and portable basically equally. but i think the existence of persona 3 as a good game thoroughly debunks the merit of "auteur theory" because it's only in spite of the misogynistic-tinted ineptitude of the two celebrated/recognizable directors that the experience is so memorable. imagine admitting in a book with your name on it that you could never be friends with a woman without getting romance or sex out of it, and saying this is why you made your protagonist a serial cheater. LOL

this type of careless attitude lacking self-awareness kind of permeates every modern entry. a controversial take of mine that i will live and die by is that the ending of persona 3 is sad because a depressed child with the power of the entire universe uses it to kill his/herself because it would make the lives of everyone around him/her better. i understand the intention of messianic imagery and mythology to it, but it is again just sort of a symptom of that carelessness that i associate the modern entries with.

then, persona 4 takes the narratively focused mechanics of persona 3 and makes it a series staple, thus weakening the entire point of why the calendar/daily life sim exists for persona 3 on a narrative level. i understand this was mostly done for crunch related reasons, but i would argue that makes this happening even worse.

but, at the very least, persona 4 does more with the calendar system tangibly than persona 5 vanilla does, where you essentially clear the main story in a single day and then get messages from everyone saying "yeah we gotta wait for (date) huh." having a major character be potentially in, essentially, a pointless coma for a month is egregiously stupid, among other narrative choices. i cannot speak for p5r because i have not played it, but persona 5 was so middling that i think i would have to lose a bet to go through the main game again just for a few hours of good content.

persona 3's messaging is at least cohesive enough to present a thesis: life is worth living even throughout the pain, so seize every day because one day it will end. but even then, that carelessness is still present with the point i raised above as well as the entirety of 10/4. the aftermath of shinjiro dying actively weakens the narrative because he specifically gave up on his own life – which, again, i understand is a gesture of gifting a future to someone in spite of the fact that even children will one day inevitably die, but shinjiro also just wanted to die himself, which is... exactly why nyx and erebus exist. yet his death is said to be "how it should be", and akihiko evolves his persona by developing even more maladaptive coping mechanisms than he already had. this isn't to say that shinjiro should have lived per se (though i do like p3p's act of quite literally giving him more time in the form of the pocket watch), but rather that the aftermath of his death should have been written from a different angle. his death is sad precisely because it was unnecessary.

persona 4 has absolutely fucking nothing to say. it makes no sense. messages about facing the parts of yourself you deny and overcoming the ideas others project onto you just mean absolutely fucking nothing when accepting their social conditioning as their "true self" is the conclusion of just about everyone. the only exception is fucking teddie, who is the only party member who has an arc that doesn't completely contradict the messages the game is allegedly trying to send out. you can also probably guess my opinion on the bigotry. the symbology makes no cohesive sense mythologically speaking, and the build up to the main antagonist... also doesn't make much sense. not as in it's difficult to understand, but because it's not fleshed out very well and the tie-ins to japanese mythology and folklore may as well be intangible because of how distant they are. it's just bad writing. idk what else to even say about it that isn't "this is a badly written game" over and over again.

persona 5's writing isn't exactly bad as much as it is overwhelmingly lazy. for example, what better way to rebel against "the establishment" by... recruiting a "good billionaire" into your party. it wants the aesthetics of punk without any of the work in the framing of the conflict. it turns real-world political debates into yet another war against god. worst of all, it's just boring (to me). i got nothing out of it. like, i don't even hate the game enough to go into even more detail, because that would imply some kind of passion. which is probably the worst thing i can say about anything, tbh.

so yeah. just laziness and shallowness that permeates every aspect of the presentation tbh.

(general disclaimer that i don't have any interest in debating at all LMAO i'm just yelling at clouds)

#i really am a fan of persona though i promise #atlus critical #persona critical #persona 3 spoilers #persona 4 spoilers #persona 5 spoilers #asks

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rivertalesien · 5 months

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"The one with the skinny suit. Then I wore a bow tie, then I was a Scotsman, then a woman."

"And now you've got your face back."

And now. You've got. Your face back.

Well, if that doesn't sum it all up.

Yeah, I had a look. Can't talk without knowing, right? Spoilers ahead for The Star Beast.

The episode starts with a really truly I-can't-believe-they-thought-this-was-necessary Disney-friendly opening that explains The Doctor and Donna's connection, as if the show didn't exist before it aired on their service. That's what it's saying now: this is the only important information you need. Whatever came before is irrelevant. You won't be seeing it on this streaming service anyway.

Bringing up Donna Noble, right after leaving Yaz behind with the regeneration, calling her "My best friend in the whole wide world" is...ouch. That hurts. As if nothing that went on before or anyone they knew or cared about (as 13) was even a thing. It won't be for the Disney audience and all the kids tuning in for the first time and they know it.

13 is already an aberration, like Missy. A reboot experiment that will be easy to ignore. Now, we're back on track!

The Doctor has got HIS face back! And everybody's funny! We can laugh again!

Alright, no need to rub it in, Space Man. It really is a shame how 13's era was so dry (lesson-heavy, even) but so much more expansive with story ideas, while 10's period was full of humor and pure silliness that doesn't stick around in the memory very long. Some irony there I think.

Now the rough bit. Going to do it like a bandage and just tear it off because it's starting to itch:

For an episode that lays on the trans-positivity, it hits a sticky spot (and this is more meta than the meta crisis, so take with a pinch of something salty): can we talk about 13, or would that be a kind of dead-naming? The answer should be obvious, right, but there's an awkward and unspoken (and probably not deliberate) juxtaposition of 13 with Rose: we're reminded she deserves love and respect and how her bullies dead-naming her is shit, so the show completely erasing any references to 13 (the one time the Doctor visibly transitioned into a woman) in the same episode, is...um, well, I said awkward already. Are we supposed to just leave 13 in the past as something that wasn't true to who the Doctor really is? The Doctor regenerating into an old self, in their old clothes, even with a completely different sonic, no glimpse of 13's Tardis? Same performance? No sense of who they were before? Not even an acknowledgement of the clothes regenerating? We can call it convenience for Disney's sake, but it feels like what the Master called it: erasure.

I believe Davies, living in the midst of Terf Country, wants to do right by the queer community and stick it to anyone who believes we are less or should not exist and that is awesome. But he also led this...what, misogynistic? erasure of 13 (something deeply misogynistic fans of the show who never wanted a woman in the role in the first place are happy about, and fuck them) and if his walk doesn't follow his talk? Sorry, but we've been here before.

And it's not like the Doctor is particularly bothered with having the old face back (Rose would probably be horrified if such a thing happened to her), and Donna later bringing up "if you were still a woman" at the end is...more messiness. I mean, we know the Doctor regenerates, but this is different: we've gone backward, male-presenting-only. The first (and second) female Doctor is followed by two more men. Because there hasn't been enough of that particular image. No negative message intended, right, but there's one all the same and it's...messy. It's awkward. I hope they know it and I hope there is some proper acknowledgment before we get to the next regeneration. Just not counting on it.

Speaking of Donna and messy, she can go from adoring her daughter, willing to defend her to the death, to calling the Meep a "ferret from Mars" and insinuating they could sell it...and that was before she knew the Meep wasn't exactly a cuddly furry. Just underlines her previous conversation with her mom about failures in language (and tolerance) as being, well, really something straight white folks really need to work on.

Among other things.

The episode is filled with "lessons" on pronouns and disability (who is the lesson for? Disney audiences?): "don't make me the problem" is a great point, but then begs the question: why didn't they just put up a ramp to the ship? Answer: no opportunity to teach...and that kind of gets thrown out when everyone has to climb a ladder...and later, when there's an elevator in the building...missed that. Oh well. "Confused but got the spirit" is there and maybe a little OTT, but there's also the part where RTD is setting up what to expect as we move into Gatwa's era and Disney had better be on board. They're not known for hanging on to overtly queer shows (DW has got to be a big investment for them, though, so here's hoping they just keep making it queerer and weirder and let Disney stew in their discomfort).

And it's got all of RTD's signature silliness and an emotional 10 showboat moment (how is this "14?" Again, there's no difference in the performance at all) and I bet everyone who started watching in 2006 is just trembling all over that the Good Old Days are back (let's face it: people just like Tennant and Tate as a duo. They're great. Some are also ageist and chauvinist dicks about 12 and 13, so, again, fuck them).

And destiny is a thing. And reversing catastrophic geological damage with a few switches is a thing. No stakes, just the old fun, for old time's sake.

No pun intended.

Only with more explosions and shoot-outs (and a sonic doing decidedly non-sonic stuff): Marvel fans will love this. Blue Beetle fans? Probably not so much.

This show has always fed off of its own nostalgia, even if each regeneration means moving on to something different. But the same. Kind of. Now they've got Disney money and while I don't feel this is a full reset, kicking off from where 10 and Donna left off (again, as if nothing happened between now and then and no one else was around who mattered), is...well, if destiny is a thing and this show was always heading in Disney's direction, I guess no other Doctors needed to have happened after Tennant.

It doesn't exactly setup Gatwa for success, is what I'm saying.

"Why did this face come back? To say goodbye."

The Doctor does that. A LOT.

"Binary...non-binary" is a choice here and it adds to that earlier stickiness: Rose *choosing* her name, her very existence even, isn't about her being trans, it's about her being a result of the meta-crisis. Interesting.

The "The Doctor is male and female and neither" is also kind of hilarious given the earlier point that there is now no evidence of 13: not her clothes, not her sonic, not her Tardis. In prior regenerations, the Tardis changes due to damage from the regeneration energy. That didn't happen with 13. The previous sonic always shows up, too, until it breaks. So...well, it's beating a dead horse now, isn't it? Good for the goose, but the gander is something else. It's kind of a "do as I say not as I do" kind of thing.

Not even Donna bringing up how The Doctor was a woman for a hot second, not even the "male-presenting" Doctor suddenly "not understanding" (because the Doctor, in their male body, no matter the circumstances, cannot understand any of this and wait...did the show imply The Doctor is *not* non-binary? What?), makes this any less messy.

Yeah, this is important right now. How are you going to be this earnest with the Lesson about Representation (which would be kind of glorious otherwise, especially on Disney), and just gloss over the visual erasure of 13 and all the baggage that comes with that?

"Do something completely new and have some friends."

I hope Yaz is somewhere, with her support group of former companions, rolling her eyes and working on her affirmations.

#doctor who #the star beast #just some thoughts #feel free to ignore #the 13th doctor #this is still ten to me #and I wonder if they got someone other than RTD if they would have made three specials with Jo Martin instead #because all of this feels like a lot of missed opportunities #jodie whittaker #13th doctor #10th doctor

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bisolationist · 7 months

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Do you know if bannedwebsites ever remade? I miss her.

/pusheen-the-radical/707800096738263040/menalez-menalez-bannedwebsites-menalez

I'm so mad shit like this made us lose a great woman and ally. They just came in and decided obviously anything asking for basic respect is instead evil and homophobic. There was no reason to assume it was about wanting to invade lesbian spaces specifically that was such an asspull, it was obviously about LGB spaces as a whole. They're not bi so I don't expect them to get it but no, "everywhere else is a you-friendly space" is just not true for bi women. They always want to equate how we're identical to het women and then say we're being homophobic if we don't agree. that post speaks to me so much because when i dated a man i lost so much of my support network. its about how people, and other bi women too, dehumanize us and see us as 'ruined', call us nasty names behind our back, and encourage other people to also dehumanize us on threat of ostracizing them too. and i was lucky, i've seen bi women who were abused by homophobes who then had it much worse, with people even supporting their het abusers, or attacking them at LGB support groups. One woman I met wasn't even dating the man that SAd her but people still said she had no place in LGB groups.

No I have no idea :( though I agree I thought she was great. (though tbh even if I did know if she'd remade, I wouldn't out someone unless I explicitly knew they were trying to find old followers. Psst people sending me asks about other tumblr users - this is why I haven't responded, sorry). And yeah oh god, I remember this shit. I'm so sorry to hear about your experiences. Unfortunately I've heard a lot of things like that. I experienced something very similar, with a lot of my friends ditching me very quickly when I figured out it was bi. It was definitely hurtful, isolating, and set me up for a lot of bad relationships (ironically mostly with older men, since I was suddenly frozen out from most social gatherings on campus). I've unfortunately heard from a staggering amount of bi people at this point on similar things, especially about being treated badly by LGB groups after being assaulted or abused in some way. I've mentioned this repeatedly on this blog, but it baffles me how biphobia seems to intensify whenever bisexuals are victimized by heterosexuals, as if being shown that we DO experience homophobia makes them angry? On the micro level, if people find bisexuality so abhorrent for whatever reason, it's not like we can force them to be better friends/people, and there's no amount of messages like this that'll make those people act any different. They're proud of how they treat bisexuals just like those people are proud to read malicious intent in even the mildest pleas for respect or civility. On the macro level it's like... yeah we do need to challenge this notion that we become immune to past, present, and future homophobia the second we're in an other-sex relationship and therefore it's okay to treat us exactly like heterosexuals. I don't know why they think people that were homophobic to us will suddenly treat us well, or that we won't face homophobia in the future. For the millionth time, it's really extra nasty to say this about bi women considering how often they are abused by their male partners. But that of course is discounted (despite it being directly addressed in the third post), this is obviously a nasty evil plot by bihets to pretend to be oppressed. And yeah it's funny how they always end up comparing us to heterosexuals and insisting we're just as widely beloved and supported as they are. It's pathetically transparent since something as simple as "don't treat bi women as extensions of men" seems to cause so much indignation.

#also the digs at banned about how obviously as lesbians they could read it correctly and she couldn't #when banned is also a lesbian :X

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eldritch-thrumming · 4 months

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I sent the original ask about the nyt article and I just wanted to apologize for upsetting you and missing the mark there. I meant no offense. I did read the article before I sent that ask and upon reflection, as a gay woman, I think I was triggered by the notion of "speculation." I was forced out against my will and before I was ready years ago in college because of rumors, so that's the lens with which I read the article. and that's also why I thought the nyt was in the wrong and deserving of the critique, which was a knee jerk reaction on my part. the nyt isn't staffed by the same people who wrote lists of why they "knew" I was gay in college on facebook, but it felt similar and I apologize for projecting.

I'm not in the Taylor 'fandom,' so to speak, so all I knew about was her music, the general discussions in mainstream media, and her Vogue interview where she said that she only recently learned she could support a community "she isn't part of" which is why I asked. clearly, my own lived experiences got in the way of me reading the article critically. I genuinely just didn't realize everything that's happened, and I meant no offense or ill-will. betrayal is painful and I'm truly so sorry that you've had to feel this way about someone you've been a fan of for so long.

i deeply appreciate this follow up message, this is actually probably going to make me cry rn tbh.

i’m sorry that something like that happened to you and i can certainly appreciate how traumatizing it can to be to be forced to publicly confront ur sexuality before ur ready.

my emotions on this have been heightened for the past 24 hours and i don’t mean to be aggressive towards members of my own community that may be feeling other things in the wake of these articles.

i think what’s important with the t*ylor sw*ft stuff is remembering that she’s a public figure, whereas you were and are not. most of the things we know abt her are released by her and her team—lyrics, biographical info, who she’s seen with, who she talks abt, what she wears, where she goes. she’s a brand and she markets that brand with intention. and it’s just my own belief that if she doesn’t want to be perceived as gay or gay-adjacent or whatever, then she should stop presenting herself in that way and referencing so much of what’s important to queer fans. this would be the equivalent of me wearing a carabiner on my belt loop every day to the coffee shop and then getting offended when woman comes up to me to ask me on a date, you know? it’s hurtful to be used for monetary gain and then vilified for it. people were invading our privacy and private life and making it public in a way that you didn’t and wouldnt.

so yeah. i really appreciate this message a lot, so thank you so much for sending it. i’ve been going through it today lol

[also just a note, because i have to be like this unfortunately lol, but this is the full context of the vogue interview you’re referring to:

I ask her, why get louder about LGBTQ rights now? “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male,” she says. “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of …”

it’s phrased in a way where she’s talking abt any community that is not cis white males… not specific to the gay community. she’d been making references to allyship way earlier than this (this was the lover era), like in the mean music video and in the lyrics to welcome to new york (and queer references in new romantics but i won’t go on a tangent here lol)]

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deleteddewewted · 3 years

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Incel!Shinsou x F!Reader fanfic idea (Part 2)

So here we are, Incel!Shinsou is back and this time with a bit of growth that he needs to make independently (While thinking about the reader of course. Thank you so much to @blossominglark for sending in such a lovely message! Also here you can find a small explanation as to why i even started the Incel!Shinsou series.)

"I think I want you. I think you're bad. I think you're good, it's like the love I never had. I think I need you. Oh God, it's true. I think I'm falling and there's nothing I can do" - Beetlejuice Chill by Life After Youth

Part 1: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Part 3: Incel!Shinsou x F!Reader (1/2)

How difficult could it be? To forget that you ever existed... thats what's haunting Shinsou ever since the conversation you two had a few days ago. He cant seem to focus anymore, everything just reeks of you. (His own bedroom where you two would sit on the floor and work on your project together. You would laugh at something that came on the television, every time resulting in his face heating up and heart beating harder at the sound, the beautiful sound, of your laughter. It doesn't feel the same anymore. He cant sit or sleep there anymore.) Shinsou starts speaking with Aizawa more, to be honest its not like Aizawa gave him that much of a choice. He needed to understand what was happening with his son and you in order to help or bring some constructive input.

Shinsou goes on and on about how he mocked you to his "friends". When questioned on his "friends" he said that they were all telling him that you needed to be taught how to be a "proper woman" the "perfect girl for them".

("Hitoshi what-...why would you...?"

"I don't know! It made sense when i was young and- i... i dont understand how or why and...please just- help me i dont understand!"

"It's ok, it's ok, come here." Aizawa hugs Shinsou tightly. He starts running his hand over Shinsou's hair comforting him.

"What did you show them? What did you tell them about...her, exactly?") A mess of tears and regrets, thats what Shinsou is. A puddle which he somehow drowned you in out of a bitter rage that had nothing to do with you.

Aizawa finally holding a grasp as to how Shinsou's mind worked, he couldn't help but feel defeated. He neglected his son so much he became bitter and resentful towards the wrong people, the wrong person. (Aizawa only ever told Shinsou that his mother moved away from them because it was "too much for her". Young Shinsou couldn't grasp why his mom would leave him, but again he never really asked questions since he saw how upset it made his dad. "Dont worry Hitoshi, ill be here for you no matter what. Got it, problem child?") An intervention needs to be made now. To prevent even more damage, to keep his son safe and his sons ex-friend safe.

"Hitoshi? The posts and things you put online, you need to delete everything now." Urgency was a must, damage control needed to happen now. Who knows if Shinsou wrote about where he lived, where you lived and studied at, if he showed those "friends" of his your face. Who knows how much information he put out there to a bunch of strangers about you. "Ok, ok. Let me delete everything...yeah...thats-yeah...makes sense." He's slipping, Shinsou is slipping into a pit of shock and disgust, he needs to fix things and that only starts by wiping away years of miss informed opinions disguised as truths.

Everything is gone. No more accounts. No more pictures. No more you. He didn't make any announcements or even address why he was wiping everything. He didn't answer the piles of questions flooding his inbox about why he was doing all of this, he just didn't care anymore. He couldn't find you either. No account on any platform with any signs of you. (He should have asked for your socials, but knowing where you two started off at he thinks its better that you two didn't. It saved you from his incessant torment he saw himself being capable of.)

Week one came and went. You didn't show up for classes and people started to take notice.

"Does anyone know why y/n isn't at school anymore? Is she sick?" Midoriya asked one day. Everyone kind of just looked at each other hoping that someone might have an answer. Be it that no one other then Shinsou was in the same class as you, everyone in his friend group knew about you since you where always nice despite the way you presented clothing wise. (The clothing didn't matter nor did the labels, you were still so welcoming to everyone. Hell, you even welcomed Monoma and that guy is considered psycho by everyone.) Shinsou couldn't do anything but listen to his friends (Midoriya, Shoto, Denki, Mina, Iida, and Ururaka) go on about how nice you were. How they miss you. He misses you . He ruined this, he ruined your school experience and pushed you to lose the friends you had because of his own ignorance. He forced you to choice between showing up to school and dealing with him or not coming in at all and losing the friends you had because of him.

The Sports Festival was coming up soon, here all the students would compete against each other to show off their skills. The Festival acts more as an opportunity for the different Courses to fight each other since its focus centers on the physical strength and wellbeing of the students instead of their study of focus. It also helps with publicity by letting UA show off their students to the general public. (Shinsou didn't understand why the school would have a Sports Festival. UA was better known for being STEM and Art focused which meant that many of the students only had to take 1 year of P.E. instead of the 3 years other schools required.

"So again, what's the purpose of this?"

"Its just a chance for the different Courses to bully each other, and for the General Course to get mocked." responded Togeike. Be it that she never spent time with Shinsou, they both had a mutual attitude and just stayed away from each other out of disinterest. It wasn't after Shinsou's personality changed did she feel more comfortable being around him and started speaking to him casually throughout the day.

"So what does the Business Course do during-"

"Hey, didn't you and y/n work on that project together?" This caught Shinsou of guard. For the past week its all been about you and how you hadn't been coming to class. (You haunt him even outside of school, the guilts too much for him at times.)

"Yeah...what about it." he snarls. Just because he's changed in appearance and largely in attitude, that doesn't mean he's over the way he treats people. Cant she get to the point already-

"Geez man, i just wanted to ask if you needed her number." That...was off. Why would she assume that he needed your number?

"Why would you give me her number? Don't you think that as former project partners i would already have her-"

"You're clearly upset about her not being here, so shut up. Either take it or leave it, jackass." she bit back. How did she know? Shinsou has always had a resting bitch face which made it hard to read his emotions. How did she manage to figure it out? (God he was an asshole!)

"Yeah, please....i'm sorry. I could-"

"Please shut the fuck up, i don't want an apology from you. Take it and fix this shit. I hate seeing people mope and you're pretty much dying in a pit here." Togeike really gives no fucks and she was tired of the purple haired boy looking like a kicked puppy. She assumed it had something to do with you. When you started skipping class, Shinsou also started to look upset and wouldn't speak that often. It wasn't like Shinsou was shy, he just didn't see the need to speak all the time. So to see him become even more silent was concerning.)

He left school that day with a skip to his step. He has your number! He has a way of contacting you! Yet, he still knew that having your number wouldn't fix anything. You left him alone and it wouldn't be fair for him to barge back into your life without proving he's improving, that he's actually deserving of you're friendship at least....

The Sports Festival.....

He can prove himself to you there....

Everyone will see it, every student at UA has to be there for credit....you'll have to be there. You'll also have to participate for the start of it, so you'll have to interact with someone.

(This was it)

This was so much fun to write! Lets give this a slow build up to give him proper character development and redemption. The next part will be the Sports Festival and what he plans on doing to get you back. Let's set up that his intention is too for one, make an impression on the school for when he decides to transfer to the Art Course but also to make an impression on you and get you to notice him in a positive light. Our poor incel is trying his best ok....

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mandiemon3 · 2 years

Text

Untitled Goblin Project

Chapter 2

Word Count- 966

Content Warnings- none

Ding dong

Andi shuffled her feet, kicking out any unnecessary energy that she knew would become tics as soon as the most awkward moment presented itself. The door swung open, and Andi looked up, expecting to see Denise as she had for the last two weeks. Instead, she came face to face with Doctor Osborn.

“Oh, hi!” she greeted, her head throwing itself wildly to the side. “Goddamn, this stupid neck!” She took a deep breath, doing her best to suppress the urges to twitch and flail. Andi smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that, Doctor Osborn. I wasn’t expecting to see you, and I guess it threw a wrench in my brain’s plans.”

The doctor looked concerned. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to make you do that. It looks painful, are you alright?” Andi rubbed her neck, messaging the muscles. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. It definitely isn’t comfortable, but I’m used to the pain at this point.” She laughed. “I could probably get tazed at this point and not even feel it.” She frowned. “Actually, that could be a good experiment. Do people who experience chronic pain have a higher pain tolerance?” Osborn tilted his head. “I suppose one would have to develop a higher tolerance, just for the sake of survival.”

“I know that there have been studies that indicate that those with intense menstrual cramps and pain are less likely to even register a difference in pain if they experience a heart attack, so one could easily tie that into a presentation on the subject to corroborate the data.” Andi shook her head, dislodging the ideas to focus on the task at hand. She smiled. “Anyway, how are you, Doctor?” The man chuckled stepping aside to let Andi enter the large house. “You, my dear, have a fascinating mind. One can almost see the gears turning in that head of yours.” “I will take that as a compliment.” The young woman shrugged off her backpack opting to hold it as a way to contain her excited hands instead. “That being said, you didn’t answer my question. How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while, either here or at Oscorp, and I’ve been worried.” Osborn’s brow furrowed for a moment before relaxing. “I’ve been alright. Work is stressful, and Harry is struggling with school, as per usual. I was actually away on a business trip the past week and a half, trying to get the government to fund a new project I had the pleasure of pitching. It involves the research you mentioned last time I saw you, about the splicing of DNA to create a superior creature. I was actually going to offer to show you the research next Tuesday when I will be back at Oscorp.” Andi’s heart spiked. New research? Research that she was allowed to see and experience first-hand instead of having to research in depth from behind a computer screen? She had to resist the urge to hug the pristine man before her, not wanting him to withdraw his offer or think of her as a crazy child with no understanding of boundaries.

Osborn chuckled. “I am not sure if you are aware, but your eyes are as wide as saucers right now. I suppose I will take that as a yes.” Andi nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir. People usually shy away from letting me actually get involved in research, thinking that my age or gender is an issue, so I especially appreciate that you aren’t letting them act as barriers.” “Those who allow social constructs and ‘What will people think’ mentalities are weak.” Osborn led Andi to the dining room, where Andi and Harry had been working on their project under the watchful eye of the household staff, ensuring they weren’t up to any inappropriate teenage passions of the moment. “Those who allow others to dictate what they should and should not do or think, and allow society to set these rules for them, have to real courage, no real sense of self.”

“Finally, someone who gets it!” Andi exclaimed. “I am so sick of high school. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, including Harry, but the endless ‘What will my friends think? What should I wear to fit in? What if I embarrass myself?’ is so overplayed. If you don’t live life for yourself and do what you feel in right, what is the point of living at all?” Osborn nodded understandingly.

“You seem more like the college type than someone who would enjoy being in high school.” Andi grinned. “I am the college type. I’m actually a college sophomore.” Osborn frowned. “How can that be?”

“Dual enrollment, my dear doctor. I’ve been enrolled in college classes part time since I was in seventh grade, slowly chipping away at a college degree.” “Well, that is quite impressive for such a young woman.” Osborn sighed. “If only my son took after you. He is a good kid but he lacks the drive and direction that I pride myself on.” “To be fair to Harry, he is a very hardworking person, he just doesn’t want to devote himself to the same causes that you and I find so interesting. His dreams lie elsewhere, but that doesn’t mean that he contributes any less.” They pair arrived at the doorway to the dining room. “You’ve raised a good kid, Doctor Osborn. You should be proud of yourself, and of him.”

Osborn nodded, something unidentifiable hiding behind his blue eyes.

“Thank you for the opportunity to work with you. I really look forward to it.”

Andi turned and walked to the table where Harry sat, feeling the intense stare of Doctor Osborn on her back.

#norman osborn #norman osborn x oc #no way home #nwh villains x reader #my writing #green goblin #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #x reader #original character #age difference #norman osborn x reader #green goblin x reader #green goblin x oc #spiderman #spiderman no way home #smnwh #spiderman nwh

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stardust-kenobi · 4 years

Text

First

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan finds out that you’re a virgin after an evening with him at the bar. You asked him if he would be your first.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: vanilla smut, soft obi wan🥺

A/N: This wasn’t requested. I do have a few requests I have received that I will be working on this week. This one was mostly taken from a fic I wrote with a different character a while back. It was edited to fit Obi Wan💕

gif cred: @princessxkenobi

The liquor coated your throat as you threw back the remains of your fourth, unnecessarily strong drink. Your eyes met the dark, dimly lit ceiling of the bar as your head was tilted backward. You weren’t wincing at the awful flavor anymore as your taste buds became practically numb. You confidently slammed the glass onto the bar, nonverbally announcing you were ready for some more alcohol.

The very busy bartender was quick to replace your glass, reminding himself of the money he’d be making off of you this evening. Your best friend, Obi Wan, had accompanied you to the bar tonight. It was not often that he’d let loose but this evening, he’d thrown a few drinks back himself. Anakin had joined you two as well, but he left so that he could spend some quality time with Padme. The two of you remained in the bustling and rowdy crowd, clinging to the bar and chatting the time away.

An odd looking, clearing intoxicated man approached you on the left. Obi Wan stood next to you on your right.

“Hello, pretty thing” he slurred his words. You attempted to scoot away from him. Obi Wan had not noticed his presence yet.

“I said hello” he repeated himself, this time with a sour, demanding attitude.

“I’m not interested” your words were blank and empty of emotion. Obi Wan perked up, now fully aware of the situation.

“Bitch” the man spat at you.

“Excuse me. what is the problem here?” Obi Wan intervened, thankfully.

“This whore right here. That’s the problem” his verbal hostility heightened the dramatic nature of the situation. Obi Wan moved to step in front of you and protect you, he opened his mouth to defend you but he was rudely interrupted.

“What? Is she fucking you? Is that why she won’t fuck me?” He inquired, putting harsh emphasis on his words.

“Alright I think it best if you le-” Obi Wan began, fully prepared to physically throw this man out of the bar if necessary. A fun, drunk driven idea found its way into your thought process.

“Yes, we are” You interrupted proudly and shot to your feet from the bar stool. You turned to Obi Wan behind you and flashed him a please-go-along-with-this look. His expression was still angry.

“Aren’t we, Obi Wan?” You continue and wrap your arm around him sloppily and place your other hand on his slightly exposed chest.

You felt the effect of the alcohol intensify as you moved. Obi Wan’s expression had transformed from pure irritation directed at the man, to satisfaction directed at you and your newly formed plan.

“Yeah.. You heard her” Obi Wan attempted to sell the lie while you’re wrapped around him. You could tell he was drunk too. It was subtle, but you’d been around him enough to pick up on his inebriated signals.

“Prove it” The man blurts out suddenly. Obi Wan looks down at you clinging to him with a clueless look on his sweet face. You assume he has no idea how to play this out and decide to take it into your own hands. There was no time to give silent messages to each other now. You moved your face toward his, tension growing exponentially. You grasped his shirt and pulled him into you. Your uncoordinated motions caused your lips to crash onto his harder than you’d intended. Nonetheless, Obi Wan’s lips moved so passionately against yours.

Although this kiss was all for show, you felt a warm tingling feeling in your stomach. The man stood next to the two of you and watched, completely speechless. You smirked slightly against Obi Wan’s lips, silently communicating to him. You move your hand from his chest to his groin and grope him firmly. Obi Wan jumped at the contact then groans quietly into your mouth. After a few long seconds of passionate kissing, you pulled away with a sly look on your face. You nodded your head and raise an eyebrow to the man’s annoyed face. You turn back to Obi Wan, observing a surprised, yet satisfied look plastered across his expression.

“Ah that ain’t nothing, y’all just made out” He said, tremendously unconvinced and displeased. You threw your hands up in frustration and Obi Wan belted out a hardy laugh for more reasons than one. Normally this would be out of character for him. His mood would have turned way too serious very quickly had that situation occurred while he was sober.

“Seriously? Do you want to watch us fuck for you to be convinced?” You rhetorically ask him, hoping he wasn’t actually going to say yes. Your filthy words were shocking to you as they flew off your tongue. Obi Wan jolted his attention to you, you didn’t see it, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Really I just want to see you without any clothes on, so yeah sweetheart that would be great” He responded, earning an uproar of laughter from himself.

“Fine, we’re going to right now. But you’re not coming, sir” You announced. You wrapped your fingers into Obi Wan’s hair and plant another kiss on his lips before guiding him by the hand around the corner that was unoccupied and lacking light.

Once you both had escaped the man’s presence and came around the corner, both of you broke character.

“What are we doing, y/n?” He whispered and giggled drunkenly, following you closely.

“Shh let’s just get in here” You suggested. Your mind began to wander as you contemplate whether you were ready to lose your virginity tonight. The idea both terrified and excited you simultaneously. Was this still a joke? Was it serious now? Everything was a little blurry for you at the moment.

You both scurried into the unoccupied area and you peak around one last time to make sure you weren’t followed. Once you found yourself in the quiet and darkness, all you could see was a silhouette of Obi Wan’s figure and his crystal blue eyes somehow still glistening. There was silence as you admired him in this setting.

“So…are we really gonn-” Obi Wan started to inquire.

“Oh no!” You cut him off and instantly realized how harsh your words came out of your mouth.

“Right, right. Of course, that was stupid, I shouldn’t have asked that” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, displaying his slight embarrassment for asking. You then felt heavy guilt on your shoulders for reacting in such a way. You wanted Obi Wan, more than any other man you’d known, but you were afraid of losing your innocence. Especially not when you weren’t prepared for it. It was your nerves speaking, not your true desires.

“Obi Wan…” You began. He motioned politely for you to stop explaining yourself before you even start.

“Y/n you don’t have to say anything, really” Obi Wan said apologetically.

“Let me.” You firmly demanded. “Look, Obi Wan. I know we were doing this as a joke to mess with him, but i’m a little drunk right now and I just feel like telling you this.” You fiddled with your fingers for a moment then looked at him. You weren’t sure if he could see your nervousness. “I’m a virgin” you stated suddenly and boldly, getting it out, finally.

Obi Wan looked at you for a moment and you’re almost able to read his mind through his gestures. He didn’t know what to say, that much was obvious.

“Oh. I see.” He finally broke the silence. He rubbed his beard softly. “Why haven’t you ever told me that?” He inquired, sounding offended and hurt that his very close friend never mentioned her sexual history.

“I was…ashamed…I don’t know” You weren’t sure what to say at this point. You leaned against the wall and hide your face in your hands. Truly you had no need to feel ashamed but you present yourself as such a mature woman at times, you felt a fool for admitting you had no experience in that specific department.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be ashamed about” He assured you softly and places his hand on the wall above your head. He was dangerously close to your face, you could smell the hint of liquor on his breath that was also present on yours.

“I know, I just…I want to, y’know…have sex” You continued. “but I haven’t had the opportunity with someone I really care about.” You kept your focus on the ground below you and feel Obi Wan’s hand rest on your shoulder to provide emotional support. You could tell that his offered consolation was hesitant as he grew nervous for what he’d say next.

“I care about you, darling” Obi Wan began, “and I think you’re…” He paused for a moment and audibly swallowed, “absolutely beautiful.” The last words trailed off toward the end. He was too shy to confidently express his admiration, even with his altered mind. You blushed, of course unnoticed by Obi Wan in this low lighting. “And I’m not just saying that because we’re both drunk, I really feel that way” he continued. You smiled softly and turned your attention to him. He met your eyes in the same moment, reading your mind in the same way you were able to read his before.

His hand slowly grasped your face, gently pulling you closer to him. He was trembling subtly. Your heart began to flutter as it did when you first kissed, except this time it felt deeper, and more real. His soft lips graced yours so tenderly. There was a level of passion in this kiss that you’d never felt in your life and you soaked in every bit of it. You allowed your lips to dance with his for as long as you both allowed in that moment.

You pulled away, and nervously breathed out.

“I’m glad that one was real” He chuckled.

“Me too” You agreed and leaned into his arms. “Obi Wan?” you requested his attention.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“When I decide that I’m ready, would you be my first?” You spilled out of your mouth. You feared what he might say in response.

“I’d love to, Y/n.” He flashed a friendly, comforting smile. “It would be an honor” He confirmed and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Somehow this conversation was more heartwarming than sexual. You knew he cared about you so deeply and for you to ask him that probably made him happy knowing you trust him in that way.

“We should probably stay back here a little longer, maybe that guy will get bored and leave.” You suggested. Obi Wan nods in agreement.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it if he tries to bother you again” he firmly reassured you.

In the weeks that followed that unexpected night, you and Obi Wan had developed a beautiful, slow paced relationship. For a while, it was unofficial and overall, unsure. The flirting skyrocketed and the constant sexual tension grew more obvious to you with every moment you spent near each other. One night when the moons glowed brighter than usual, and everything felt right, Obi Wan told you how much he really loved you, and officially asked you to be his, making you feel complete. You two, of course, had to keep the business of your courtship a secret, considering he was a Jedi, and all. Most people assumed you were only friends, as you always had been. You were still a virgin, and Obi Wan was willing to wait as long as you needed.

“You’re worth it, y/n” he would always remind you.

You were once faced with a difficult situation regarding the secrecy of your relationship when you were approached by Mace Windu, asking for an explanation of your extended amount of time with Obi Wan. Somehow, you were able to lie to a Jedi and get away with it, but it surely was a close call. To Master Windu’s surprise, Obi Wan very sternly put him in his place about interrogating you. This put quite the strain on their relationship. But again, Obi Wan assured you,

“You’re worth it, y/n”.

This altercation forced the two of you to be more secretive in the future.

That was a week ago. Today, It was a calm, pleasant day. The sun was peeking through the infrastructure and partially shining through the balcony in Obi Wan’s room, a good indication that it was approaching dawn. Obi Wan was peacefully still snoozing off the previous night. You’d stayed the night with him unintentionally. You’d been there late, and fell asleep on his couch. He covered you in a fleece blanket and let you sleep rather than waking you and making you leave. Although the sun crept itself onto Obi Wan’s relaxed face through the wide balcony and neighboring window, he remained at rest. You sat in the chair next the bed, legs curled up, watching his chest gently rise and fall, admiring the sound of his peaceful breathing.

You studied the lining of his jaw that was speckled with thick hair, yet still so soft. His lips were ever so slightly parted. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention back to the rising sun. You became so lost in your thoughts you were slightly startled by Obi Wan’s voice.

“Good morning, love” His voice was gruff, sleepy, and so adorable. You turn around to look at his fatigued smile and head still rested on his pillow.

“Good morning, Obi Wan” You sweetly replied. “It’s a beautiful day and you’re lazy butt is just sleeping it away” you teased.

“Get over here, you” He chuckled and pulled the covers back with enough room for you to snuggle in there with him. You happily obliged.

You placed your back to his bare chest, asserting yourself as the little spoon. You’d never seem his so exposed and it made your heart flutter.

“You might feel, um-” Obi Wan began. Before he finishes his statement, you felt a bulge press against your ass. You were pleased to feel this but you assumed Obi Wan was likely embarrassed by it. “It’s uh, because I just woke up, that’s all” he tried to explain himself.

“Hush” You attempted to shut him up. You grinded your hips back into him, causing him to groan quietly. You teased him further and rotate your hips slightly. One of your favorite things to do was tease him relentlessly.

“Darling” He growled and pulled you closer into him, if that was even possible. You turned to face him, planning to act on something you’d considered for a while.

“I want you, Obi Wan” You whispered. “I want you to make love to me”. His eyes widened happily. His mind was racing and it was obvious to you. You were so nervous to even bring it up, but he was never going to be pushy about it, so you had to make the first move.

“R-right now?” He stuttered.

“Well, I mean, if that’s okay” You shyly responded. He smiled ear to ear and looks away, then back to you.

“Oh it’s more than okay, Y/n, but” Obi Wan paused and sat up in bed, “I want to get myself cleaned up for you first. It’s your first time, you deserve for it to be special”.

You melted at this gesture and felt relief knowing that he wanted to do this as well. Obi Wan ran his fingers through his messy hair then reached for your hand, pulling it to his lips and planting a kiss softly on your fingers.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot recently and…I know that I’m ready” You admitted.

“Tonight” He replied, “Are you okay with doing that here?” He inquired as if he was asking himself simultaneously. You nodded your head in approval to which he positively replied with a nod as well. You kissed him on closed lips quickly before rising to your feet.

“Then I will see you tonight, Master Kenobi” You smiled and exited his room slowly, closing the door behind you.

You had spent the day letting your nerves get the best of you and over thinking the endless possibilities of what could happen.

As the sun got lower, your nerves rose higher. The sun just barely crept over the horizon now. You took a sharp breath in and decided it was a good time to go to him. Your stomach was tied in knots and your legs trembled subtly with every step. You were so excited and so terrified at the same time. As you get near his quarters, you walked yourself through what was going to happen again. The door opened to reveal his robe apparel that was more formal than usual. He scanned your body and admired your flowing evening gown.

“Wow…you look…beautiful” He seemed damn near speechless. You looked normal at best, but he was still amazed at your appearance somehow.

“Thank you Obi Wan, you look very handsome yourself” You reciprocated the compliment. You kept reminding yourself to calm down and steady your hands. Just in time, too, because Obi Wan grabbed them delicately and led you into his bedroom. You were in awe of the mood he had set. The room was lit only by about 30 candles. There were rose petals that circled the bed, creating a romantic atmosphere. He turned to you, seeing the nervous smile on your face, and closed the bedroom door behind you.

“This is wonderful, Obi Wan” you express your gratitude for this preparation.

“Only the best for you, my darling” he whispered.

Obi Wan took his gentle time initiating the events to follow. He approached you hesitantly, displaying signs of anxiousness. He smiled warmly at you and minimized the distance between you two standing in the middle of his bedroom. You felt like you were awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands. He raised his palm to your flushed cheek and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned into you slowly, as if he’s never kissed you before, and placed his ready lips upon yours. As both your lips move gracefully together, you felt yourself begin to relax. Obi Wan repositioned his idle arm to wrap around your waist and pulled you into his warm body, leaving no space between you two. Your tongues meet, increasing the passion of the kiss. He shuffled his feet toward his bed, keeping his grip on you so that you move together. He faced your back toward the bed and lays you down gently before hovering over you, only breaking your kiss for a moment. He ensured that you were comfortable before continuing.

His hands traveled to your neck and gently caressed your collarbone. He removed his lips from yours and presses them against your open neck. You moaned so softly, having your mouth now absent of his touch. Obi Wan sprinkled kisses all over your chest above the line of your dress. It took so little from Obi Wan’s physical affection for you to become incredibly aroused. A warmth formed between your legs you were familiar with, although it was never acted upon. Your fingers fiddled with the clasps on your dress before he noticed your attempts.

“Let me, Y/N” He whispered into your ear and continued what your trembling fingers began. He first pulled your cardigan off slowly and worked on pulling your dress off your shoulder. You lifted your body and helped him slide it to your feet, leaving your body more exposed than you’d ever been in front of a man before. Your gown left no room for a bra, so with the absence of your gown, so was the exposure of your breasts. You felt so self conscious but you couldn’t let that ruin the moment. He removed his robes and under shirt before you were given a chance to assist and left his broad, hair speckled chest open to you. You traced your fingers on his chest and admired his masculine shape.

Through a few more kisses, and traveling curious hands, Obi Wan reached the hem of your panties and he flashed you a look that requested consent. You nodded in acceptance to have your body completely given to him in its most bare form. Chills shot down your body as he slowly removed them from your curves.

You were absolutely nude now and you looked away from him shyly. Obi Wan did not take notice of this and moved himself back to get a thorough look at your body. He released a low, melodic growl from his throat in appreciation for your figure. You felt another chill cascade over the surface of your skin.

“Stars, y/n, you are perfect” He praised you. You chuckle quietly and bite your lip. After his long look of appreciation, he lowers himself to lay next you, planting several more kisses on your lips. His wandering hand that wasn’t placed behind your head traveled to your thighs. He traced your folds with his middle finger and felt how achingly wet and ready you were for him.

“Oh y/n, did I do this to you?” He whispered seductively into your ear. You nodded, unable to create words. His fingers rubbed your clit delicately, finding the perfect rhythm to get you going. You began to squirm lightly under his touch and produced innocent whimpers into his ear. Obi Wan took his time with every move he made, making sure to put your pleasure first. He then slid his middle finger inside of you slowly. You gasped and it was immediately followed by a whimper. He pumped his finger in and out of you, careful to only use one to begin with. His thumb remained at your clit, still rubbing at the same pace as the thrusts of his finger.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re doing so good sweetheart” He praised you again so tenderly, encouraging your sweet sounds of pleasure.

You moved your lips to intertwine with his while his skillful fingers do wonders to you. You make no effort to cease your moans into his mouth, it seemed to turn him on every time you did. His mouth then diverted its attention to your breasts, sucking tenderly at your nipples.

“Obi Wan” You called to him through your moans.

“What is it, darling?”

“I want to make you feel good” You pleaded.

“I have to take care of you first” He insisted. His fingers increased their pace only slightly and you begin to feel your stomach tighten gradually. Each motion of his hand felt better than the last. A sensation you had felt only in your own times of private intimacy with yourself began to grow inside of you, stronger than what you’d experienced before.

“Oh my god” You moaned deeply as a wash of ecstasy floods your body beginning at your clit and radiating throughout every inch of you. Your back arched and he placed his unoccupied hand under your arch suddenly to keep you on your high.

“Mmm, that's it, love” He moaned. Your intense whimpers faded slowly and your limbs trembled slightly.

Obi Wan then removed his fingers from your pussy slowly. He pulled his trousers off of his body for you as you floated off your high. His cock sprang free from the tight grip that once restricted it. You were in amazement at his size and couldn’t help that your jaw literally dropped. He nervously laughed at your reaction to him. You were hesitant, afraid that you weren’t sure how to handle or pleasure him the same way he was pleasuring you. You sat on your knees while Obi Wan laid flat on his back. He looked at you as if to wonder what your next move was.

You gripped your hand gently around his pulsing cock that was desperate for your attention. You parted your eager lips and moved your face toward what you held in your hand. Your lips made contact with his tip and he breathed in briefly and sharply. You lowered your mouth onto him until his dick is met with the back of your throat. Steadily, you picked up the pace and bobbed your head up and down onto his length. Obi Wan’s moans were soft and innocent to begin, but they were growing louder and more intense with your increased pace.

His fingers found their way to the back of your head and intertwine themselves in your hair. He guided your head as you move.

“Fuck” he mumbled in the most sexy way, causing you to internally melt. He doesn’t allow you to spend as much time on him as he did for you. He gently lifted you from his cock and pulled you up to his face, passionately kissing you. You instinctively placed one leg on each side of Obi Wan’s hips. You intended to lower yourself on him but he stops you suddenly by wrapping his arm tightly around you and switching places with you. It was clear that he was more focused on making this pleasurable and easy for you during your first time.

“Are you nervous?” He whispered intimately, hovering over you. His eyes were dimly illuminated by the candles filling the room, revealing only a hint of the bright blue that you knew was there. Your fingers traced his shoulder delicately, down to his arms, to his hand placed next to your head. You get so lost in his eyes, you momentarily forget he even asked you a question.

“No” you answered confidently, “I trust you”.

Obi Wan smiled at you and then diverted his attention south. He grabbed his member and lined it up carefully at your soaking wet entrance. With tremendous caution and patience for you, Obi Wan pushed his hips into you. There was a sharp discomfort inside you and you winced, noticeable to Obi Wan.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. He finally buried himself completely inside of you. You were so tight wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Obi Wan. Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to adjust to him. A soft whimper escaped your lips, notifying Obi Wan that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts find perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to groan softly with you.

Your eyes met and locked on each other while he continued to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/n?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Obi Wan” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

Obi Wan becomes louder, his moans sounding so sweet to you. He couldn’t hide his pleasure on his face, and neither could you.

He swiftly moved your leg around him, placing his body behind yours, still deep inside you. You were both laying on your sides. He wrapped his arm around your waist in front of him to gather better leverage on fucking you deeply. There was something about this position that hit new sweet spots inside of you. You couldn’t help but let profanities fly from your mouth.

“Oh fuck, Obi Wan, yes” You breathlessly moaned. His hand moved from your waist to gently rubbing your still very sensitive clit. You twitched at this contact but he still lightly rubbed you, intensifying your pleasurable experience.

“Oh god, I’m gonna c-” you cried, unable to form the full sentence. That same euphoric feeling overcomes you again as Obi Wan continues to pound into you steadily. This time your orgasm was stronger, and you attempted to cover your mouth to muffle your sounds before Obi Wan protested.

“No, darling, I want to hear you” he purrs. You released what you tried to suppress into the air. You come down slowly from your high. He released his fingers from your clit and thrusted a little harder now.

His groans and whines were getting a little more choppy, indicating he must be close. He buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his sounds. His body tensed and he roughly gripped your hip as he reached his high.

“Y/n” He mumbled your name and growled while he released himself in your pussy, filling you.

He took a moment to recover before removing his dick from inside you. He laid flat, you do as well and move to lie against his chest. Neither of you speak for a while, and rather enjoyed the silence of being in each other’s presence. He kissed your forehead before breaking the silence.

“I love you, Y/n.” He stated suddenly. You smiled ear to ear, unable to hide how over-joyous you were to hear that. You’d heard it before, but it just felt different this time.

“I love you too, Obi Wan”

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi x reader #Obi wan x reader #Obi wan Kenobi smut #Obi wan smut #Star Wars #Obi wan x y/n #Obi wan fanfiction #rots #aotc #my work

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Fame With No Shame | Part Three

A/N; I think at most there will be one more part to this series, and that will be the reveal of Luke and the readers relationship to the public. Thankyou for all of the requests for this series, please enjoy xx

Summary; in the midst of an interview, there is talk of (Y/N) dating a member. The interviewer is keen to find who is the lucky gentleman within their ranks, but can Luke remain steady though the enquiries about his girl?

Brushing his hands down his black clothed legs, Luke sat upon the seat, eyes interpreting his composure. His face was slightly flushed, aware that his hair was a bouquet of messy curls, the state of his redress had not gone unnoticed by the hostess nor his curious band members. All were wondering of whom he had hassled sexually with before this set, but nothing was mentioned, at least not yet.

A small part of him wanted to let the world know of his relationship status, and more importantly, whom he was entangled with. But it would all be released in due time, he would just have to remain both vigilant of letting anything slip and patient. The rumours could manage to infuriate and humour him all at once, so many fans had claimed to know the identity of the woman in his life.

There were many suspicions, although they were only proven by the hope and dedication of all kinds of people on sites such as tumblr and wattpad, that his lover that was concealed to their eyes was not a lady at all. It was perceived that it was a bandmate; a dear friend of his, that he was sleeping and taking midnight strolls with.

That of course was not the truth, the shipping had been dragging on for years, he sometimes wished that the guesses could be correct all by their own. (Y/N) however was amused by how much it infuriated him, and all of his frustrations would dissipate at the sound of her glorious laugh, and in the end, all that was left was for him to join in and relax.

Things between them were certainly going good, to say the least. He had never felt so elated to see someone pour themselves a mug of coffee, or tie their shoelaces. It wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been difficult for him to admit the facts – he was in love. If there was any evidence that they existed, he was sure that he had found his soulmate.

She understood not only his emotions, but his springs of motivation, the ideas that would creep in the middle of the night or whilst he was in the bathroom for songs. His process was normal to her, because she experienced the same waves of inspiration, the urge to write what flowed to mind and execute lyrics until they were sure enough ready and sounded right to be released to the rest of the world.

And together, that was like the universe had combined the two creators for a reason, to make a beautiful sound, an eternal symphony that would play on forever and a day. If people knew about them, it could disturb the state of their peace, the security that they found within their relationship. And that would be the most tragic and morbid interference that either of them could ever experience.

Hate online was strong, and (Y/N) suspected that neither of them were prepared to take the mixed responses to their newfound and blooming romance. Each of them individually received the expressions of resenting opinions, through messages, through posts, through the loop of the internet. It was never ending, the trolls were headstrong and stubborn, they didn’t want to be stopped, and any reply that they got in turn only made their day, encouraging them to cackle away at the fact that they drew a celebrity’s attention and time away from more important matters.

“And we’re live.” The hostess of the radio show confirmed, settling more comfortably into her plush, swivel seat, as she set her digging eyes into the men that were seated around the platform of a small, recorded station. “My name is Heidi, and we are here on HotRadio, with the one, the only, Five Seconds of Summer.”

Luke adjusted his headset, leaning closer to the microphone so that he was close enough to allow his reviews and answers be heard better than when he was reclined back, awaiting the start of the recording. “So now tell me boys, how was it working with (Y/N) (L/N) for your new single, Flashes.” He gulped at the mention of her name, this wasn’t the best situation, considering that he could accidentally allow some classified information slip, and spiral through the channels of the web.

“She was amazing!” Michael blazed in with his initial impression of her, a jolly grin spread across his lips and chin. “We’ve been fans of her work for so long, it was a dream to finally work with her.” His hands waved as he spoke, confirming his excitement, although working with (Y/N) had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Ashton bobbed his head, agreeing with his friend. “She is such a talented woman, we don’t do many collaborations singing with other people, but all four of us can definitely admit that she was such a great sport. She put so much work into the song, from lyrics and notes, there is a bright future ahead of her.”

The boys speaking of her made Luke want to purposely trip in his secrecy, they had no expense from gushing over her in such an idealistic way. However if he were to join in, he’d risk the exposure of the relationship. (Y/N) would be mad at him if he were to do that, so he rubbed his chin, feeling the growing prickles of stubble against his guitar picked hands.

Heidi smiled, they were eager to tell her their what appeared to be honest opinion. Yet there were still more details that she and the fans sought; answers. There were so many questions that were lingering, waiting to be spoken aloud in the recorded air.

“Was there any romance sparked between one of you and (Y/N)? How about you Calum?” It was typical, the enquiries about the song itself, that was supposed to be the main attention of this interview , it wasn’t about love, or feelings or whatever.

The thought that Calum, out of all of them, was the one considered to have gained her affections made Luke bite the inside of his cheek. Sure, Calum was single, but so was he, or at least was in the media’s eyes, and before he met (Y/N).

Luke’s frown was subtle, but it was still there! And everyone was oblivious to his disconcerting expression, all because the spotlight shined on the bassist, and the idea that he, out of all them, was privileged enough to have possibly shared a bed or the exchange of numbers in the static noise of the track.

Cal cleared his throat, ruffling the collar of his shirt, as though there were a reason for him to be fanning himself. “I mean, I’m not one to disclose that personal information.” That son of a bitch, Luke thought. From his response, something had obviously occurred, it was too bland for an answer.

That was until said boy began to laugh, spewing a humoured chuckle from his mouth whilst looking Luke dead in the eyes. The opposing man could only frown, his face hardened by the strong crease that went down the centre of it.

“Too bad she already has a boyfriend.” Michael chipped in, the guitarist’s attitude and statement not only making Luke paranoid, but also worried. What if he were not the only one that had grabbed the affections of (Y/N)?

To begin with, it was clear that she was a bit of a player, and he had no problem with it, there was nothing wrong at all with a woman embracing her sexuality, it was even kind of sexy. But now they were partners in a relationship, and he could only trust her to be faithful.

Mikey’s words had not only drawn the intrigue of the lead singer, but also Heidi, who was leant forward in her seat, the dimples in her face prominent as she was presenting glee from hearing first time news, that was broadcasting on her radio channel.

“Are we permitted to be told who the lucky gentleman is?” How she hoped that the revelation would be unconcealed during this very interview, personally the woman was curious herself, but also the thought of the views skyrocketing encouraged her desperation for an answer.

Ash smirked, his eyes fluttering through his trio of bandmates, this was certainly entertaining for the rest of them also. Except one from the looks of it, Luke was gnawing on the outer portion of his lip. This was getting to him, just as they wanted. They knew, all along, what was occurring between Luke and the talented lady.

She had been a crush of his for a long time, and it seemed that she shared that affliction of interests, by being attracted to the natural blonde himself. It was noticeable to the boys from the first time that (Y/N) had entered the studio, their eyes navigated to the sight of the other, and their attention had to be drawn for the pair to look away from one another.

“One of us.” The eldest member replied, and Luke realised that in that moment, he had not been as discreet with the entire dating ordeal as he thought he had. They’d quickly realised that there were strings attached when Luke began to miss their nights out clubbing, and said he’d prefer to stay in and watch a movie – alone.

However, it was not a solitary activity, and binging television was not all that the promiscuous man was partaking in. The symptoms that brought light and revelation to Luke and (Y/N)’s involvement was matching marks of red suction bites around the circumferences of their throats, that eventually healed and could be concealed, however the boys could see right through their efforts.

And then there was the undebatable evidence of smeared lipstick scorned across their lips, a shade which consisted perfectly against one another, from nudes to striking reds, the pigment that streaked against Luke’s vigorously hungry lips consisted to be suspiciously similar to the original prominence that was lined and filled on (Y/N)’s own petalled mouth.

“Oh.” It appeared that the prying interviewer had not even put any efforts into hiding her pleasantly condemned grin, every detail that was slipping through the teeth of the men gave her some kind of joy.

She had somehow hit a gold mine with the answers that her pay check curiosity had earned her. There was so much going on behind the scenes that had never been revealed, and it seemed that all would be exposed, on HotRadio! “Are we granted to know which one of you is the lucky man?”

Luke shifted in his chair, gripping onto the arms with his painted nails. He was prepared to hit rock bottom in this deep deep ocean that he had swam himself into, yet a snicker left Cal, bringing all afraid and all too alert attention to him.

“I think not, we can keep a secret for a little longer.” His eyes paced slyly over to Luke, sending him an all knowing wink.

He sighed, he lived to fight another day.

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theonetheycallhannah · 3 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya @oqueequesentes-borboletas @kebabgirl67 @indigosaurus (some of you new readers didn’t ask, but I took the liberty. If you want me to remove you, I totally will without hard feelings.)

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

#netflix #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #captain syverson fanfic #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader

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caramelcal · 3 years

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the girl in the red dress

a/n: sorry for my lack of motivation and content...enjoy though : )

warnings: swearing

just to clear a few things up- in this, i would suspect after Luke got obsessed w/ her, reggie was told to never speak of her, even possible threatened, bribed not to do so etc so he didn’t speak.

and luke became so obsessed w/ her that people thought he loved her...which, if set back in the 1800s or whatever, could have been possible cause he was like crazy obsessed even after only knowing her for like 30 mins. didn’t some of them meet for like two weeks before they got married and stuff lol idk.

plus, this was written purely because i was bored, wanted to produce some content and post, this wasn’t made to be 110% accurate, yet if there are things you think i could change just drop me a wee message :)

Luke Tag: @rachmmb @phantompogues @meanergreener

Masterlist

not my gif

“Nana, why does everyone say that King Lucas is so unhappy?”

The older woman in the room looked up towards the small boy, a tuft of blond hair sprawled out on the top of his head, the features on his face only to be seen by the light given by the fire. She put her half-knitted blanket down onto her lap as she shuffled slightly, looking towards her grandson with a small smile.

“Why do you ask, dear?”

The small boy shuffled awkwardly, blue eyes looking towards the older woman with a curious glint in them that she knew all too well, “Well, I heard people talking about how sad he was, saying how bad it was he never got to marry the girl that he loved and I asked mama and she wouldn’t say.”

“Well, dear, there’s a legend about why King Lucas is unhappy but we can’t ever speak of it outside of these walls, alright?” She said to the young boy, who nodded eagerly in return, “Okay, have you ever heard of the girl in the red dress?”

Classical music played around them as she stood in hand with a flute of champagne in her hand. She was simply seventeen, not old enough to be drinking yet but it wasn’t like anyone would notice or care. A mask was situated proudly on her face, covering the area around her eyes and over her nose, leaving simply her lips and chin exposed, and the top of her forehead.

A red dress hugged her figure, corset pulled in uncomfortably tight, yet she was used to it. She had been wearing corsets for years. A boy stood to her side, leaning against the wall. He was a courtier, and one of the closest friends to the prince, but he was also your friend.

“Not enjoying yourself much I see,” He commented, looking over her figure with a small smirk. She turned back around to look at him, a playful smile on her lips as she rolled her eyes.

Walking closer to the boy, she flicked at a small piece of hair that strayed from the rest of his hair, trying to fix it but it simply fell back down again, “Can’t imagine you are either.”

“Only here for him, obviously. Emotional support,” His eyes are on the ballroom where the prince stands, pretty girls, possible suitors, surrounding him. He’s one of the only people without a mask on, even the girls around him have masks on.

It’s a known fact that these events were for the prince to find a possible suitor, despite wanting to marry for love. Sure, he knew that marrying to unite kingdoms was important, but he didn’t want to sell his life away to a woman that he didn’t know or like. He wanted to be with someone that he loved, he didn’t want to miss out on the experience everyone else got just because he was royalty.

“Yeah, he looks like he needs tons of emotional support,” She snorted lightly, looking over at the prince. He was basking in the attention he was given by the girls, a charming smile on his face that would win over any girl that he wanted.

“He doesn’t enjoy these nearly as much as you think he does,” The boy beside her spoke, making her roll her eyes.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” She replied, arms crossing over her stomach yet still keeping the flute of champagne in her hand. Her back comes in contact with the wall so that she is standing beside her friend, but her eyes remain on the prince, “he sure looks like he’s suffering.”

The sarcasm that comes out of her mouth is something that the boy is used to, especially considering that he had known her for so long. A smile graced his face when he rolled his eyes, gaze briefly flickering over to her to see her staring at the prince on the dancefloor. He seemed to be finishing his conversation, itching to get away from the girl who was trying to get close to him, laughing obnoxiously loud that they can almost hear her from the other side of the ballroom.

“He’s not that bad you know.”

“Never said he was, Reg,” She sighed, dropping her arms slightly as she takes the last drink from her flute of champagne before placing it down on the table beside her. Her gaze strayed from the prince and towards her friend Reginald, who is already looking at her, “What?”

The boy doesn’t answer her question and instead continues to stare at her, making her huff out in annoyance. His lack of response urged her to ask again, “What, Reginald? Why are you looking at me like that? Is this still about the prince? Why are you so hellbent on making me befriend the entitled prick?”

“What was that, angel?” Her body went rigid from the sound of the voice behind her, making her eyes look back up to Reggie in alarm before turning around, seeing he was not going to be of any help.

She came face to face with the prince himself, who smirked down at her with a playful glint in his eyes. However, she didn’t back down like everyone else would with him and instead sent him a sarcastic smile in return, “I asked Reginald here why he was so hellbent in making me befriend an entitled prick.”

“Ohhh,” The prince reeled his head back slightly, nodding his head, and somehow his crown didn’t move, much less fall as she expected it to. It said mockingly on the top of his hair, glinting in the light provided by the overhead chandelier that probably cost more than her house.

He held his hand out with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at the younger girl clad in red as he asked, “Well would you be so courteous as to offering this entitled prick to a dance?”

His offer hung in the air as she hesitated to answer, an eyebrow raised, not sure if the prince had ulterior motives. That’s all she could have expected, given that she did call him an entitled prick. His hand never wavered nor did his smirk, eyes glinting as the girl’s green eyes met his.

Slowly, with a discrete nudge from Reggie, she slipped her hand into his and was whisked into the middle of the room, one hand at the crook of the Prince’s elbow and the other clasped in his other hand. He smiled down at her, giving her the same smile that he gave every girl but he knew this wouldn’t make her swoon as it did everyone else.

She wasn’t worshipping the ground he walked on unlike those other girls, but he always did like a challenge.

They moved expertly to the music and she kept up with his every move, challenging the grueling lessons that he had experienced to be good at ballroom dancing, making him thoroughly surprised. He had been expecting her to fall, to step on his newly polished dress shoes, to trip over her own crimson dress but she didn’t. She made it look easy, in fact.

“I’m surprised,” He commented, eyebrows raised as his eyes traveled down towards her high heel clad feet moving expertly. Her eyes looked up to meet his, noticing the smirk on his lips, “you’re quite good at this for a peasant.”

“Whoever said I was a peasant?”

He didn’t reply as she spun out, but he kept her hand clasped in his. Everyone’s eyes were on them, despite a few other people dancing. This girl was one they had never seen before, dancing with their beloved prince but he hardly paid any mind to the people that surrounded them and instead kept laser-focused on the brunette girl who spun back towards him.

She, however, was more bothered by their gaze, considering she wasn’t used to it. Despite her face being covered by a mask and providing a little protection to her identity, she was used to slipping into the shadows, going unnoticed by everyone. Yet now, she was standing in the middle of the ballroom with the prince, and everyone’s eyes on them as they danced to the music.

No one could hear them, and that somehow made their conversations even more exhilarating. Everyone was watching, but had no idea what was going on.

“Who are you?” He couldn’t help but ask the question that he had floating around in his head from the moment he caught sight of her standing beside Reginald, one of his closest advisors, talking like they were old friends. Ever since he had seen her, he had been itching to get away from the people that tried to strike up a conversation, his curiosity getting the best of him.

It was safe to say he was enraptured by her, not only how she looked in that incredibly flattering red dress or the way she presented herself, but the way that she wasn’t putty in his hands; not yet, anyway. He couldn’t see most of her face, and instead only seen the way her green eyes glowed under the chandelier’s light, and the way her lips curved into a smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, your highness?”

“So we’re at your highness now, and not entitled prick, are we?” His question was taunting, but an amused tone underlined his words as he smirked down at her.

“We could always go back,” The girl suggested, a piece of her perfectly curled brown hair falling in front of her face.

He didn’t even think twice as he let go of her hand, using his thumb to wipe the hair out and away from her face, her green eyes peering up to him with uncertainty. They weren’t dancing anymore, and simply were standing in the middle of the ballroom with everyone’s eyes on them. He could see from the corner of his eye his mother coming across to get him, to introduce him to more possible brides now that he had had his fun.

“Personally, I like the way you say your highness, but I think Prince Lucas would sound even better,” He made no move to increase the distance between them, chests almost touching as his hand fell from her face and down to her shoulder, his other hand still tightened securely around her waist, “But you can only call me that if I get your name, angel.”

“Too bad you won’t find out, the music stopped minutes ago and the queen has almost reached us,” Just before he can tighten his hold on the shorter girl she slipped through his hold, stepping back with a smirk, “Have a nice night, prince Lucas.”

She didn’t look back as she walked away coolly, back off to the side where Reginald still stood. Even when the queen arrived beside her son, who now stood by himself on the dance floor, his eyes remained on the girl’s figure, not even noticing his mother was talking to him until he was whisked away and taken off to other people by her.

Even when he continued to go through his evening, meeting many more possible future wives and chatting up a conversation he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander back over to the girl. In fact, his thoughts never strayed once from her the entire evening, or for the several weeks after. He ran through their conversation, both on and off the ballroom floor, trying to pick at any possible clues to who she was, where she could be, or anything about her whatsoever.

Reginald was no help considering Lucas hadn’t seen him since the event but Lucas couldn’t help himself but be overcome with thoughts about her and without any new leads, he became more and more frustrated as the time went on. He couldn’t explain who she was, because there was no way to explain; they wouldn’t know who she was.

From his obsession grew whispers, rumors even, about the girl in the red dress. After he had asked so many people about her, these whispers grew and people believed that prince Lucas was in love and even ten, fifteen, twenty years later, people still talked about her. About the girl that the prince, now king, would have married if she didn’t disappear.

She became a legend, one that King Lucas was forbidden to talk about and one that got his wife, Queen Georgina, became furious about simply at the mention of the younger girl. It was a known fact that King Lucas wasn’t happy in his marriage with the Queen, but one they also could never talk about. He never got to marry for love, and instead had to marry to unite kingdoms as an allegiance to help the Queen’s kingdom from war.

So after the marriage of the royal couple, the girl in the red dress became a murmur, spoke about only behind closed doors, stories that the people in the kingdom would tell the children when they asked why King Lucas was so miserable.

“Well, it all started with the girl in the red dress...”

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #charlie gillespie #julie and the phantoms #luke julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x reader #luke jatp #jatp

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

Shadows And Pills - 1

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me or send me an ask.

Thank you to @thoughtslikeaminefield and @glassjacket . I would not have made it through this story and would honestly not be here today with the two of you. I will never be able to tell you how much you mean to me.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all.

Alexa comes away with a shadow.

In the weeks following the disaster, the public equally lauds and decries the Avengers, but while their opinions are divided over the heroes, the villain is universally denounced as nothing short of Satan himself, and the city throws an actual celebration the day Thor takes Loki back to Asgard to face the justice of their people.

Alexa, having not turned on her television since the day she got home from the hospital, ignores the boisterous celebrants and goes about her shopping, earbuds firmly in place, frown lines now permanently etched between her eyes and around her pinched lips.

“Routine will help you through some of the worst days,” her therapist tells her during one session. “Something familiar and safe to retreat to when the flashbacks are the worst. Just give it a try,” he adds at her disbelieving grimace.

And so she sets a routine.

Morning Routine: wake up. Ignore alarm, lie in bed an extra thirty minutes or so. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast. Take meds (this one she never skips or shirks). Find something to wear. Stare at it for another ten minutes. Eventually get dressed. Contemplate keys for another fifteen minutes. Leave the goddamned apartment already.

Her routine has varying results, although she does admit to her therapist that life is marginally more bearable with the routine than without.

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to for the next day.”

Her therapist can’t quite hide his grimace at her flat, deadened tone, but she’s not being sarcastic or rude. She finds that going to bed at night is a trifle easier when she knows what’s going to happen the next day.

“So, who are we up to today?” the doctor asks, switching the subject with awkward abruptness. It’s been six weeks since Hell came to New York, and during their twice-weekly meetings, her therapist suggests going through each of the people she saw die in front of her that day, to get closure...or say goodbye...or something.

Sometimes Alexa wonders whether he just wants to hear the details for his own perverse pleasure.

“Brenda.”

Alexa robotically begins to list the personal details she knows...knew...about her floor manager. Unlike the mail room intern she discussed at their last meeting, the list for Brenda goes on for a while. She’s worked with Brenda since she started at the company, learning most of what she knows about her current job from the woman.

Brenda was kind, sharply intelligent, and mothering to everyone under her supervision, and yet she did it in a way that didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She balanced work and a family long and well enough to both receive regular promotions within the company and also, very recently, become a new grandmother.

The backs of Alexa’s eyes sting as she remembers the photo Brenda showed her not twenty minutes before part of the building collapsed on top of half the department. Her jaw locks as the scene plays before her eyes again, the explosions and shrieks of metal drowning out the shrieks of the people only five feet away.

She closes her eyes, but there’s no pause button to freeze the scene, no power button to shut the images off as she turns in her memory and runs, making it to the stairwell and slamming the door open, turning back and screaming for Brenda, straining her eyes through the smoke and dust and mountains of falling debris. Brenda is running, reaching for Alexa even though she seems miles away, and then one of the file cabinets is thrown over, propelled faster and harder than should be possible, and...and…

And then Brenda isn’t running anymore. Her outstretched hand, the only part of her that wasn't crushed by office furniture, spasms against the ruined carpet, as if it thinks it’s reached its destination and is grasping at its savior.

Alexa’s hand tingles, and her fingers lock into her palm, nails fitting easily into the little grooves she dug there weeks ago. No blood, she only dug that deep once, but the furrows remain as permanently etched there as the frown lines on her face.

Alexa struggles to take in a labored breath as her therapist watches her with the appropriate amount of professional, clinical sympathy and detachment.

“Do your counting,” he reminds her.

How could she forget? She counts to three once, letting a breath out at the end. She repeats the process twice more, ignoring her therapist’s brief flash of annoyance at her departure from his “system.” But, for once, he doesn’t ask her why she has to deviate from the standard one-to-ten method and just lets her do the goddamned counting in peace.

Small blessings.

“Have you had any flashbacks since our last session?”

She stares at him, letting her gaze rest heavy and disbelieving as she turns his question over. She’s been averaging about five flashbacks a day, triggered by everything from accidentally brushing a stranger on the sidewalk (Jim knocking past her to get down the stairs just as the door on the stairwell behind her explodes inward; more shrieking, then falling, then dark) to lifting a carton of cold milk from the shelf at the grocery (that impossibly cold hand grasping hers, pulling her up from the rubble, bringing her face to face with...something...something in the...shadows, it was so dark there, and…).

“Yeah. I’ve had some flashbacks since our last session.”

“What sort of coping strategies did you use?”

He’s not even meeting her eyes now, just getting notes down on that damned pad. The scratching of his pen grates into her bones, and Alexa grits her teeth as she glares.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

She slowly recites the list of strategies he suggested during a previous session, none of which have proven particularly effective at lessening the frequency of the episodes, but most of which she grudgingly admits provide some slight relief afterwards and allow her to refocus her mind on the present rather than dwelling in the memory.

“And the shadows?”

How can he get this wrong every time when he’s taking all those fucking notes?

“Still just the one.”

“Has it manifested in any other way? Asked you to do anything? Do you feel different in any way when you notice it?”

There’s a distasteful eagerness to his words that always turns Alexa’s stomach, and she has to physically bite into her tongue to keep from asking what kind of bonus he gets for each symptom she shows of different mental illnesses.

“It’s just there sometimes. I..” She hesitates, feeling vaguely nauseated from his questions, but she has to be honest, right? Because, ultimately, it’s his job to help her, and she’s never going to get through this by hiding symptoms. He can’t help fix her if he doesn’t know what’s broken, and he did suggest the routine, so, okay, he gets a pass for this one.

“I still mostly only see it before I’m falling asleep. I’ve started seeing it in the late afternoon, as well, not often, but sometimes. Always in shadows that are already there. It doesn’t talk or anything, doesn’t really have any face or form except for vaguely person-shaped, but it...it watches me. And it’s...denser than it was last week. More...it’s thicker than it was, like when you see wispy clouds kind of...gather and turn into storm clouds?”

He nods, his pen whizzing over the legal pad he records their session notes on. “So, you feel threatened by the shadow? Like it’s storm clouds gathering to...what? It feels menacing?”

But, like most of the questions Alexa fences in this office, this one isn’t easily answered.

“It feels like it’s watching me, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I don’t...I don’t know if it’s menacing, exactly. Like, it feels potentially dangerous, but I can’t tell if it’s for me. I don’t know. It’s just...darker and more there this week, but it doesn’t do anything, and I don’t feel different, and it doesn’t speak to me. I. Don’t. Hear. Voices.”

She clips off each word at the end of her rant separately and precisely, repeating her counting in her head, and she forces her breathing to even out. The doctor is just doing his job, he’s just trying to help, he’s supposed to ask these questions, it’s how he helps-

“Hmm. I’ll have to consider that between now and our next meeting. In the meantime, go ahead and move up to the next dosage step with your meds, keep it on the escalating schedule we set.”

You set, she thinks mutinously for a moment before internally shaking her head. She nods, biting her tongue once more. She’s going to have a permanent indentation there as well, at this rate.

“Any side effects? Itching, swelling, difficulty breathing? Any unreasonable lethargy or detachment?”

“I mean...I don’t really have anything to attach to at this point, so…”

He frowns at her again, and she wonders if he’s going to crank up her dosage two notches instead of one.

“Are you having what you feel are typical emotional responses to everyday stimuli? Have you laughed or smiled at anything yet? How long has it been since you emotionally felt anything besides the frustration and panic?”

And, somehow, this question is difficult, too. She struggles through, trying to find a balance between honesty and not making herself look like a complete failure who can't function in life. She doesn’t help her case when she admits she hasn’t followed many of his suggestions beyond establishing a routine.

“Not even exercising?” he asks, his disappointment palpable.

When she silently shakes her head, her lips pinched tight against his disapproval, he shakes his head with a sigh that sings of ultimate betrayal. Instead of berating her as usual, the doctor frowns and looks down at his notes, considering them silently. He clicks his tongue against his teeth for a moment before switching over to end-session mode, robotically delivering his closing remarks, his typical reminders to keep her meds on a strict schedule at the exact time every day, to avoid all alcohol and unprescribed drugs, to keep her diet as clean and unprocessed as possible, and to get plenty of exercise. Even this last bit is delivered with a sharply clinical detachment, as if she has driven him to the brink of her own psychoses by stubbornly refusing to accept his help.

There is a short, silent moment between them where they refuse to look at each other, the doctor perusing his notes once more while Alexa examines the wrinkles creased into her jeans from lack of folding. The doctor flips pages over in his legal pad and slaps the cover shut sharply, breaking the standoff with one last, dismissive comment.

“Routine, Alexa. Stick to the routine. If it’s what brings you comfort, if that's the one thing you’re taking away from these sessions that actually helps, then stick with it. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon.”

….

Her afternoons vary, according to her therapy schedule. Her sessions take roughly an hour and a half, so that’s one block of time she doesn’t have to try and fill. On the days she isn’t having her skull cracked open, she can sometimes force herself to work on the files her company sends her way. Grunt work, brainless stuff that any first-year intern could do, but it keeps her on the payroll and covered by health insurance until the doctor clears her to return to the office.

Not that there’s an office to return to yet.

Grocery shopping for food she’ll pretend to eat later, making excuses to stay out of the apartment a little longer each day, watching the shadows of the buildings grow darker and longer until the sunlight disappears from the streets.

And the other shadow, the darkest of all, thick and solid against the brick and stone, pacing her, keeping track as she wanders through the broken city blocks. Sometimes she walks a little faster, pretends to not notice the black spot. Sometimes she pretends it’s keeping her company. With the most conversation she’s had in weeks taking place in her therapy sessions, she occasionally finds the imaginary company of her shadow stalker to be more pleasant than menacing.

Occasionally.

Eventually, though, she and her chimerical companion head back to the silent, encroaching walls of her apartment to begin the night routine.

…

Night Routine: laundry. Pretend to eat dinner. Shower. Finish laundry. Clean already clean kitchen. Another shower (on the bad days, the ash and debris won’t wash off). Rearrange already arranged closet. Braid hair. Take meds, do not skip, no matter how much they screw up her sleep, because they help. They do. Settle into bed. Stare at the wall. Adjust pillows. Re-settle. Stare at the shadow. Start to drift off, slide into a flashback, scream back to full consciousness. Watch the shadow. Doze. Awaken from a fucked up nightmare she can only partially remember. Repeat ad nauseum.

Really, if Alexa could just skip the nights and go straight into morning, that’d be great. Mornings are tedious but tolerable. Afternoons are blurry and tense, especially therapy days, but nights…

Nights just won't shut down.

The drugs are partially responsible, the doctor has told her multiple times. The medicine can either make sleeping more difficult, or it can act like a sedative, dragging and holding her down. Honestly, she’s getting kind of mixed results. It’s difficult to stay awake, easy to slip under, but then she can’t stay asleep for very long, jerking back to consciousness in something close to full panic, unable to figure out if it’s the drugs or the dreams that’s pushing her to the edge.

Because the fucked up dreams...well, that’s all on her and her broken brain. She stopped bringing up the dreams in therapy after the first couple of weeks of sessions. The doctor seemed hell bent on steering Alexa towards the possibility that she was experiencing waking hallucinations, but there’s no way she could possibly be awake for all this shit. Maybe some of the flashbacks, but not…

Not…

Her brain isn’t that broken.

No. No, she can tell from the way she jerks to consciousness afterwards, she knows she’s asleep. Yeah, she’s unstable and has flashbacks, but she’s not delusional. They’re dreams.

Every night.

About…

Something.

Okay, sometimes she can remember. Sometimes the meds dull her down so much she forgets what day it is, but sometimes she can hold on to a detail or two. Cold, slender fingers, impossibly strong. A flash of bright blue that sends nausea racing through her entire body (who knew your toes could feel nauseated?) or a glimpse of bottle green that, conversely, thrills her to her soul. A smooth, velvet voice that penetrates every layer of her being, down to the deepest recesses. Darkness descending...a sense of dreadful awe…

And sometimes she can remember every unhinged detail with a terrifying clarity that she will never even consider mentioning to the therapist. Not if she likes her jacket sleeves to fit properly.

There’s honesty, and then there’s idiocy.

The shadow is larger tonight. Taller, a little broader, definitely denser. She would say looming, even, but it’s not quite that large.

Not quite.

She stares at it openly, no longer trying to avoid acknowledging its presence. What's the point? The doctor knows about it, and it’s not like she’s talking to it. She’s not that far gone yet. And she hasn't lied to the doctor, either. The shadow does watch her, like it’s waiting, gathering. Convalescing. But it hasn't ever talked to her.

She does not hear voices.

She yawns and rolls her shoulders, left then right, sliding a little lower in bed, searching for a cooler place between the sheets. Movement catches her eye, and she looks up as the shadow shifts, leaning left then right, and seems to…

Grow?

No, it’s never moved before. She’s pretty sure she’s never seen it move, but now it pulses and raises up, stretching-

No. No. Sourceless shadows don’t move. They don’t grow, they don’t shift, they don’t-

The shadow stretches upwards abruptly, definitely looming now, and Alexa hits the wall behind the bed, scrambling backwards in a blind panic as she realizes the shadow isn’t growing.

It’s coming closer.

Her breathing speeds up, but her limbs are heavy and dull with narcotic stupor. The foot of her bed darkens as the shadow creeps even closer, and she opens her mouth to protest, to scream, to say something, but her tongue is numb and stupid with the acrid, coppery tang of fear and pharmaceuticals, and she hates, hates this kind of dream where she can’t speak, can't move and she can barely breathe, and...and…

The shadow reaches out, stretches over her foot and slides up her calf in a clammy, viscous caress that tightens on her knee and pulls her several inches down the bed as her throat closes.

Do not shrink from Me. It is not your fear I crave, but your adoration. Come to Me, allow yourself to move past the fear and embrace what I wish to grant you.

Horror, deep and instinctual, floods her veins. Alexa feels the voice more than hears it, and it awakens an ancient fear that finally, though futilely, awakens her drugged limbs. She claws at her sheets uselessly as the shadow moves over her, a freezing oil slick that oozes against her skin as if her blankets and clothes weren’t even there, sending shivers to the very marrow of her bones as her gorge rises, and she chokes on the bile that singes the back of her throat. She can’t fight, can’t move against this intangible force, but neither will her terror let her sink past the fear to blissful unawareness.

Give over. Let go of your stubborn fear that tethers you to this useless reality. Allow Me entrance, and I will grant you the relief you seek. Release your grip on the world that cares nothing for you, and I shall bestow upon you the peace you so desperately crave.

Her skin raises in gooseflesh everywhere the shadow crosses, and her stomach turns as it squeezes its way up her torso, her chest, her throat, slipping over her lips in a sick parody of a lover’s caress. She opens her mouth - to scream, to breathe, to do something - and the shadow plunges inwards, invading her mouth, her throat, coating her inside and out with a thick, glutinous sensation that leaves her mouth hanging obscenely open, tongue thrashing, while her mind screams useless denials.

Submit to Me what you see I can easily take, give Me My due. Give over, drown in Me, and I will save you from this miserable existence.

And she is drowning, the air pressed from her lungs as a dark heaviness settles solidly over her. Her arms are forced over her head, and she is strung out on her twisted sheets, writhing under the weight of the shadow as it presses over every surface, against every entrance. No matter how she strains, her legs are gradually forced apart. The darkness’s lack of speed is affected, some barely functioning bit of her brain whispers to her; it could take her as swiftly as it cares to and is only moving slowly because it wants her to suffer, wants to taste her anguish. She has no chance against the shadow, she can’t even touch it, really she could just save herself the anxiety and fear and just-

NO.

She twists as hard as she can, but the shadow simply moves with her, flows over her, waits until she takes another breath, and then surges between her thighs, driving her torso off the bed with the force of its thrust. Every cell in her body locks, not in pain, but in complete revulsion. And then again, and again, cruel in the thoroughness of its violation, covering and saturating every crevice of her being, coating and tainting everything it touches.

Wrong, can't...stop, stop, stop, wrong, can’t...God, please…

You cannot rely on yourself, on your own mind for proper guidance. Let Me protect you. Let Me save you from yourself.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just stop, please…please-

The alarm clock shrieks right in her goddamned ear, and she can breathe and move and scream and goddammit, she fucking hates those dreams that send her careening onto the floor, scrambling for cover when she can’t even remember what she's running from.

Her morning routine is already in shambles. There’s no ignoring the alarm clock today. A morning shower maybe, to wash off the sticky aftermath of night sweats, definitely, but no lying about, staring at the walls in a sleep-daze. Definitely washing the sheets tonight, too.

She surveys what she can see of her bed from her crumpled position on the floor in front of the closet and sighs. Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare to tear up the covers that badly. She thinks for a moment of trying a little harder to remember, to recall some piece of the dream, but then her stomach flips over, and she summarily rejects that idea in favor of caffeination and medication.

She allows herself another few minutes on the floor, waiting until her respiratory and heart rates return to a less alarming pace before climbing to her quivering knees. The shadow darkens the far corner of the room, as innocuous as always. Though she doesn’t know why, she can’t help an involuntary flinch when she first sees it. It’s not normally present in the morning, at least, she doesn’t think so...well, she can't remember the shadow being so dark in the mornings, at least. But...

She clears her throat against the thickness that seems to coat it suddenly, and readjusts her plan to include a glass of water before she starts in on the coffee. She realizes after another long moment of staring that her hands are trembling along with her legs. Her jaw clenches, and she knows she’s being ridiculous. It’s a damned shadow. It just sits there. It’s a minor manifestation of a mild psychosis secondary to major psychological trauma. It’s just a damned dark spot; it doesn’t change, doesn't want her to do anything, and it definitely doesn’t fucking talk to her.

She. Does. Not. Hear. Voices.

…

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uncrownedmox · 3 years

Text

Dirty Secret

The Rigmarole: Mention of sexual contact / descriptive- dirty language. Swearing. Mox being a dominant cocky asshole. Sexual shenanigans (oral, male/female giving, toy play, alpha status) 18+ only.

Pairing. Dean Ambrose/Jon Moxley x OC

Rating. MC

Summary: When she looked at him she knew she was complete. She was HOME. They laughed and spent all their free time together. She wasn't surprised by the rumors, hurt yes but surprised no.

But he said not to worry, in the wrestling world, everything becomes a storyline sooner or later. That was fine with her. Sooner or later everyone will know who she is- the only thing she didn't plan on was the Shield. Or how looking at HIM made her into someone new, someone larger than life. She thought she was complete before? That she was home? Now..she knows better.

But now Evolution is back.. and that sledgehammer feels so heavy in her small hands.

(Actually, matches and timelines WON'T match up to this story. )

January 2013

Looking around she wasn’t sure where to go or who to speak to. The busy buzz of backstage was intimidating at best and people seemed only to be concerned in their own little bubble. Moving to the side as a fast-moving cart of clothing came flying by Catherine Jane Parks sighed and continued down the hallway.

Her long platinum hair was tied back into a loose braid and she had loose strands framing her face. Her light honey-colored eyes darting left and right until she came across a blonde woman standing around the round looking over a sheet of paper.

“Excuse me, Miss.” Keeping her voice light and hoping her confusion wasn’t too evident.

Watching as dark brown shot up to her and saw the surprise as the other woman took in her jeans and Nike hoodie. Smiling in what she hoped was a friendly matter CJ pushed forward.

“I was wondering if you could tell me where to find.” Pausing for a moment she had to remember what exactly to him.

Their relationship was so new and fragile that they had dared put a label on it. Digging out her phone from her back pocket she scrolled through some text messages and nodded silently when she came upon it. Looking back up at the blonde she smiles big.

“Hunter?”

She saw the blonde’s eyes go wide and dart from left to right then swallow hard. Then after a stale moment, she nods and chokes out softly as she points down the hallway. Licking her lips as she starts to speak and rolls the paper she had been looking at up in her hands.

“Down that hallway, take a left, third door on your right. Knock right- always knock first.”

Then she taps the rolled-up paper against her head as if she was reminding herself to do so. Nodding as she turned down the hallway CJ thanked her and made her way with the directions she was given. Coming up on the door she leaned her head against it for a moment. This would be only the second time they have met, and it took her breath away.

Knocking as she got herself back under control, hearing his rough voice call out in a biting command.

“Come.”

Smiling as she pushed the door open and slipped inside. He was sitting at a desk, in a dress shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. His eyes were focused on a piece of paper, but twitching to look at a laptop screen that was set up to his right. CJ simply leaned against the door and watched him for a few seconds.

Then his eyes flicker to her, a ghost of a smile graces his lips and gentles ask. “How was your flight?”

Kicking herself off the door and moving closer she settles into the plush chair that is across from his desk. Their eyes haven’t strayed from one another, they are both smiling like idiots now. There is so much to say and to do now that she is here, here with him.

“Good, I have never flown before so it was something else.”

She sees the surprise in his dark eyes, the hurt as well but she dismissed it. She doesn’t want regret or hurt between them. Reaching to lay a hand on top of his she squeezes lightly, hoping he understands. Smiling a little when a light shines in his dark eyes. Suddenly there is another knock on the door. Withdrawing her hand she sits back in the chair, almost ashamed. Smiling a little when he whispers out an apology and then bellows out.

“Come.”

Turning cause she is curious about his life and his business because she wants to be a part of everything that is him. She blinks in surprise as three rather large men come walking in, Hunter sighs and picks up the paper he had been looking at when she had came in.

“Joe, Colby, Jon, good good.” His eyes dart to her and she realizes that maybe she has overstayed her welcome?

Hitching her thumb towards the door in silent question and wanting to squeal in delight when Hunter shakes his head. She simply nods and tries to melt more into the chair. Hunter sighs and shakes the piece of paper at the three men.

“Care to tell me what this was about?”

Glancing back when she heard a deep sigh followed by a grunt. She saw the man in the middle close his eyes and rub at his temples, the man to his right just stared ahead, but the man on the left looked right at Hunter and muttered softly.

“Poor timing or self-defense?”

He said it so innocently CJ was almost convinced until she saw the glint of his hard blue eyes. The small kick of a smile on his lips, then a lock of his hair fell into those devilish eyes and CJ knew what he was. He was pure trouble. Moving without thinking about she made her way to stand by Hunter’s side. Not trusting Mr. Blue Eyes for a minute.

She was aware her movement had all four men looking at her in question. Shifting uncomfortably, she glanced down to see the paper Hunter was waving around at the three men in front of him.

A police report

Snorting softly, it would seem as Mr. Blue Eyes was a little troublemaker. Feeling his hard blue eyes on her she moved closer to Hunter, and keep on reading the report only stopping when Hunter spoke again.

“How do you claim self-defense, Good? She was an undercover cop.”

Mr. Blue Eyes, aka Good which she found hilarious because she only see him being good at being bad.

“Fine Entrapment then, fuck boss-man the things she said she could do with her pus.”

Eyes wide, mouth going dry. Watching as the guy in the middle slapped Mr. Blue Eyes in the chest and the other man grunted. Hunter raising out of his chair, a snarl on his lips.

“You watch your fucking mouth, Good. There is a Lady present.”

Mr. Blue Eyes blinks at Hunter then at her, all the while rubbing his chest. When goes to open his mouth Hunter snaps out.

“You all three are fined ten thousand dollars each, consider it a welcome to the big leagues.”

When Mr. Blue Eyes flares in either anger or disgust Hunter adds.

“The next time it will be fifty thousand and a suspension. I don’t give a fuck hot the Shield is right now. You will learn to play by my rules and understand that this is not the fucking indies- you understand me, Mox?”

Putting a hand on Hunter’s foreman she wasn’t sure if this was a normal business day for him or not but he seemed so invested in what was happening. That it got her blood pumping, when he cast her a look. She smiled big for him. When he shoots the three men another glance she can tell he is calmer.

“I know you’re still adjusting, especially you Jon. I told you once, listen to Joe okay. He may have the least amount of experience in the ring as you and Colby but damn it man you all can learn shit from one another.”

Nodding in satisfaction she beamed at him, letting go of his foreman she knew from her own background that wasn’t always peaches and cream.

“It’s all about being a team. Learning each other's weaknesses and strengths. It’s not always easy to let someone in or let pick at the scabs you have.”

All four men were looking at her again, blushing. She shrugged and picked up a pen from Hunter’s desk, and clicked a few times.

“Colton words, not mine.”

Mr. Blue Eyes asks and she can hear the amusement in his voice. Making air quotes with her fingers she murmured.

“My dad, ex-bad boy player extraordinaire.”

Mr. Blue Eyes actually laughs at her then sticks his hands into his jean pockets.

“Darlin you don’t know bad boy until you know me.”

Now she is laughing, so much so that she has to hang onto Hunter’s chair so she doesn’t fall.

“You a bad boy? Please!”

She totally misses the hardness that enters his blue eyes as he takes a step forward, the middle man jerks him back and grunts out.

“Leave her alone man, she is just a little girl.”

Snorting as Hunter opens his mouth but she adds.

“I and a group of my friends met Colton at Peru’s. He had just bent my mother over in the bathroom for fifteen minutes after a fight, didn’t know who in the hell I was so after some angry sex and seeing my mom talk to me he thought it would be cool to try to get with me in the same bathroom.”

Hunter is snarling and has her in his arms in a flash. She is laughing cause she thinks it’s so damn funny now. Mr. Blue Eyes is smirking saucy.

“He didn’t piece it together for a while and for a while I let him play the charmer. You, can’t outdo Colton Messer, my friend. No matter what you say or do.”

The third man finally speaks up in a low smooth voice.

“The Colton Messer?”

Nodding she laughs as he flinches and glances at his friend then sighs. He mumbles a second later.

“Yeah, Uce give over. If half that shit is true- not even Mox is as bad as he is.”

Nodding as she shyly snuggles deeper into Hunter’s embrace she watches blue eyes blink then narrow. He licks his lips then after a moment he shrugs, turns to face Hunter again.

“Okay fine, you tightened the leash on your new puppy. Can we go?”

Hunter only grunts, his hand is in her hair, his lips on her forehead and she finally knows what it’s like to be home.

--------------------------------------------

Watching him across the room she can help the smile that graces her lips. Seeing him in this element is breathtaking, his wife Stephine stands beside him but she could care less about that. The woman doesn’t seem to care for CJ, and that’s just fine. Hunter keeps them separated most of the time, except when they are at shows.

WWE shows

At twenty-four CJ never thought she would be working for such a company. Currently, she is working with Mr. Maddox who is a pure gentleman and a delight. She has caught on quickly that the wrestling world isn’t like the outside world, or even the racing world. Colton was always trying to sucker into working for him after graduating from college this spring. Hunter had put his foot down and told her absolutely not.

Glancing at him again she couldn’t help but be proud. She was aware of the rumors backstage, Hunter and she hadn’t gone public with their relationship. Hunter was trying to give his wife as much as needed to adjust to having CJ around and in her face. But the rumors were there already.

They simply chose not to acknowledge them because in Hunter’s words.

I am sorry CJ, like it or not. I know Steph- you’ll be a storyline before long.

Then the nature of their relationship will come to light, some would doubt it she was sure of that. But Hunter promised to take care of things. And so far he had upheld all his promises to her.

Like never having to see Chase Beckett again.

Frowning at the thought of the man that almost ruined her life she blushed when Hunter suddenly met her gaze. His dark eyes weren’t soft and playful like they normally were but hard and cold. She had gotten used to seeing that look for the cameras for TV. Watching as he brought his cell phone up to his face she watched in slight concern as after a moment he hung up and looked away from her. His attention back on whatever his wife was talking about.

“That was strange.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, jumping slightly when a warm hand comes to rest on her right shoulder. Turning she comes face to face with one Dean Ambrose, whom she first met in Hunter’s office three weeks ago as Mr. Blue Eyes. Of course, she knows Dean is just his character’s name and his real name is Jon. But she still gets confused sometimes on what to call these guys.

“Mr.”

He doesn’t let her finish instead he gently takes her elbow in hand and starts to lead her out. They were at some charity event and blinked as his two friends flanked him as they near the door.

“No fuss and no noise sweetheart. Hunters command.”

The phone call

“But why?”

The question is out of her mouth before she realizes it, the man gliding her only grunts but when a reporter at the entrance calls out.

“Chase, can we get a word?”

Stiffing she tries to melt into three larger men, she hides the best she can. Once they make it out, pass the entrance and into a SUV she reaches in her purse and digs out her phone and hits a speed dial number.

“Yes?”

His voice is gruff and hard, but she can hear the concern under it. It makes her want to weep.

“Thank you.”

There is a pause then in a year of their relationship she finally whispers.

“Thank you so much and I love you.”

He sucks in a breath, and she starts to openly cry. His words are light and his voice is gentle.

“I love you too, CJ. Since the day I met you.”

She hears him hang up and she can’t stop crying because even with the hurdle of telling Hunter she loves him she feels so very much alone. A strong arm comes around her shoulders and she doesn’t even blink; she just turns into him and balls her eyes out.

--------------------------------------------

May 2013

To say he has gotten used to being a WWE superstar is understatement. But he has watched and listened. After the fiasco in January, Joe had put the hammer down to their partying and he had cleaned up his act. Not that he was super bad to begin with.

Jonathan Good was a good man, or that’s what Colby and Joe says. Joe’s old lady swears by it too.

If you wasn’t I wouldn’t trust you with my daughter, you asinine.

Chuckling at the memory as he warmed up, they were coming off Mania season and anything could happen. He had no clue if the Shield’s thing with Sheamus, Big Show, and Randy Orton was completely done or not. Then inside of his brain snarls and pokes at him. He wouldn’t tell a soul about this- about how bad he is hurting because being handed a scripted for every promo kills him.

The snarling and poking inside of him, he knows is from his creative side. It’s a side that has mashed into his old Mox character and the fucker is still breathing and living deep in his soul.

But he is trying to cut it out, slowly and carefully. And, it feels like, with a dull ass spoon. Certain things don't help, either. Namely the little young number that is currently his boss' side piece.

Since that back in January he has kept a loose eye on her. CJ Parks even landed herself a job as a personal assistant to Greg Maddox. That he mused, was an injustice, all by itself. But who was he to say otherwise, one of the perks of fucking the boss man he supposed.

Looking over at Joe he put it out there.

“A what-if for you.”

It’s a game they play, Joe was quick to catch on it helped with his mental state at times. So six month into their run, having become closer, the bigger man only grunts as he sits down and slips on his boots.

“If you were the princess. Wouldn’t it piss you the high off that your hubby was keeping his younger side piece in your face all the damn time.”

After all he mused Hunter had called him and his boys from their charity interview a while back to pull his babygirl out of the whole event for some odd reason. Colby butts in with.

“Maybe it’s an open arrangement?”

Looking at Joe specifically he asked more heatedly.

“But I mean, the age- wouldn’t it be like robbing the cradle or something?”

Joe chokes on thin air and shakes his head, Jon can see the smile he is sporting though. The is a knock on the door and when whoever doesn’t wait for an all clear it speaks volumes. Watching as Hunter himself slips into the locker room, Jon plops down and reaches for the tape out of his bag. It doesn’t take Hunter long to get to the point.

“Tonight you boys will seek out Maddox for a new challenge. However he will get wind of it, and high tail it out of here. That leaves you dealing with his assistant.”

Sighing softly so this was why the personal face to face. Hunter wanted to make sure they treated his side piece with kid gloves. Fair enough, he supposed, they could-

“Ambrose I want you to go full throttle on her.”

Blinking in total surprise and a little shock, he nodded.

“Sure I can- WAIT. What?”

Joe snickers at him and Colby clunks down beside him in a hurry. Hunter only grunts then raises a hand and rubs it over his domed head.

“If you can get her to shed some tears even better. Dip into Mox if you have too but keep it PG. Cause this where things are going to get interesting boys, seems like Dave is coming back. And well since Randy is still wanting some of you boys.”

Colby is leaning forward like a kid on Christman morning. His eyes are lit up and sparkling up but Jon can’t seem to care because he can’t seem to wrap his mind around Hunter wanting him to cut a promo on his side piece. And not just any promo. Suddenly Hunter's words break through his thoughts.

“That’s right Evolution will be reborn next week.”

Shaking his head he drops his tape and snaps out.

“Hunter are you sure, you want me to cut a promo on your girl? I mean..?”

Hunter gives him a hard look then stands, looks at his watch and nods. Moves towards the door, all without looking back at him.

“You have one hour Jon. And three takes to get it done. Don’t disappoint me Jon.”

--------------------------------------------

The Shield finds Maddox's assistant in their joint office, her pretty long platinum hair is twisted into a messy bun that has chopstick sticking out of it. Her eyes look so fucking delicious behind a pair of reading glasses. She is on her cell phone, her eyes go wide and big when she sees them.

Dean gives her credit for standing when they file into the office room. He barks out.

“Where is Maddox?”

She physically flinches and replies to whoever is on the phone.

“Mr. Hemsley one moment if you please.”

An errant “Jon” thought crosses his mind.

Do you call him that behind closed doors baby?

Dean quickly pushes it away, there is no time or space for Jonathan Good or Jon Moxley in the here or now. This, THIS right now belongs to him- belonged to Dean Ambrose. He won’t screw it up again. Never again.

“Gentlemen how may I assist you tonight?”

The Mox in him howls and begs at his control, they had rehearsed the promo earlier. It had taken all three tries to get, he not happy with the first- she the second. And now here was another damn character in his head wanting to detail the whole damn thing. With something that clearly wasn’t PG. That clearly would get him fired.

“Little girl, you can’t assist me with what I want.”

And there it was. Jesus Fucking Christ. Not only did he see the surprise in her honey colored eyes but he FELT the surprise in his teammates. Shifting the US Championship belt on his shoulder he grinded his teeth together, how in the fuck to save this?

“What you can give me, and my boys, what we want!”

Okay that was a little better, at least it was getting them back on track. Then to his horror he saw something flash in those shiny golden eyes, saw her lips form in o pout and the tilt of her head as she looked him dead in the eye and leaned forward.

“Nope!”

His mind blanked.

Time stilled.

When it picked back up and he reacted it wasn’t Dean Ambrose that snarled back, almost happily.

“I was hoping you would say that, doll.”

As quick as lightning his hand shot out, tangled itself, her messy bun hair do and brought her smashing up against his body and her lips up against his.

Jonathan Good knew as the cameraman called out that they were all clear that he was good as fucked. The question was, did he care?

#my writing #dean ambrose #dean ambrose fanfiction #dean ambrose smut #no one under 18+#masterlist #chapter series #my muses #over1000words

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tortoisenottortoise · 3 years

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Am I the only one who likes seeing muscular women in media more than muscular men?

Alright so, this one will probably end up much shorter and a little more ranty than I'd like, but this is kind of personal so be fairly warned.

Recently I've seen a few complaints about the new He-Man show and honestly, I fully understand and empathize with them. Whilst I haven't fully seen the show, from what I've viewed I can personally speaking agree (or at the very least understand) where most criticisms come from. I think it's incredibly shitty that the writer basically lied to his audience about how the show would run. Now normally I'd be fine with a twist such as He-man dying, but he's an important part of the show and the way the marketing & merchandising for it was running kind of comes across as him basically using He-Man's name to get people into the show. I also feel like it's fine to view Teela as obnoxious and annoying, nothing about her personality-wise seems likable to me. I also heard a few complaints about Orko's (I think that's his name, don't crucify me) backstory and how his character was handled.Yet as the title suggests one that didn't stick with me was the criticism of Teela and a general trend towards the criticism of women in media as being "masculine".

I've heard over and over that Hollywood representing strong women by giving them masculine traits is a bad thing and yet... I kind of don't get it? It feels odd to say, almost like I'm the dumbest man alive for admitting something which most people on the internet seem to be so sure about, yet I just don't understand where this is coming from. I've seen this thrown at She-hulk, Wonder Woman, Abby, and many other characters, yet when inquired it usually loops back around to, "Yeah they have muscles", and that's about it. This type of criticism in specific seems to overly focus on the appearance of said characters. It's the one critique I just can't get behind and it feels like at best it's a shallow criticism that fails to get its point across, and at worst it's actively demeaning to women who desire to or show masculine traits. But first, let me break this down into sections.

Section 1: Muscles =/= Masculinity (In my opinion at least)

Oh boy, I feel like this is a section that might rustle some feathers, but I'm going to try and explain myself best as possible. I simply do not view muscularity as a feature that is inherent to or should be inherent to men. I'm not going to pretend as if muscular men aren't more saturated in media and art, nor as if they're societally treated as masculine, but one of the reasons I fail to understand this criticism is that I see muscles beyond the horizons as being just a masculine trait.

I believe that muscles should instead be seen as a sign of hard work and determination. As someone who's currently trying (and struggling) to stay healthy and fit, it's much harder than a lot of media portrays it to be. It's a test where you push yourself to the limits, not just for the sake of doing it, but so you can improve as a person. Whenever I go to the gym and see a muscular gal or guy walk by, my immediate thought isn't, "how masculine" or anything like that my thought is, "wow! They worked hard to get like that, I should work hard as well!".

This interpretation tends to feel like it's just simply taking a piss on people who actively work hard to achieve higher levels of strength. Especially when society places and enforces these unrealistic standards onto people. If you don't have a six-quintillion pack nor can bench press a fucking house then you're worthless, of course, that is unless you actually attempt to pursue said standards which in that case you're automatically dismissed as cheating your way to gaining your muscles instead of putting any work in. And that's just for men who often don't have to deal with traditional idiots who are stuck in the year 1950 where I can't walk on the same street as them. My skin crawls when reading tweets from older men talking about how weightlifting women are "ruining their fertility" and I absolutely hate it when people in my life treat these women as if they're mythical creatures from a fairy tale, or when females who have trained to such a degree are simply dismissed as being inferior.

Obviously, I don't think the people who say this are like that, but whenever I hear this type of critique I can't help but think of the culmination of all these experiences I've gone through. But then again, this might honestly just be because I'm personally attracted to muscular women.

Section 2: Body type diversity

Another reason that I tend to like muscular women in media over muscular men is simply due to the sheer oversaturation of muscular men. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem if anybody likes muscular men. I totally get wanting to shove your face in between some man titties or get inspired by their physiques. In all honesty, almost everything I said earlier can directly apply to men, but one of the reasons I bring up body type diversity is that there tend to be much less muscular women than men. I

f anything, I'd have to say that muscular men are almost treated as the default when it comes to things like superhero comics, movies, video games, anime, etc. In a similar vein, the default for women tends to be slim and curvaceous, you get the drill. Whenever someone who doesn't fit into either body type shows up and isn't treated like a joke/gag or a character to rip on, I can't help but be happy about it. As much as I have no clue wtf is going on with TLOU2, I can appreciate that Abby's portrayal doesn't seem to exist solely as a joke meant to demean women for working out. I'm excited when an anime protagonist is a fat character who can go beyond just being a "fat guy" and is treated the same way a normal person would be.

Regardless of what you think about whatever trait you're criticizing, there's probably someone out there who fits it. If you're not into it or dislike it, then that's fine, but I'd rather have that expressed than it being actively made out as a harmful trope as opposed to just literally another body type that some women have.

Section 3: Muscular women inspire me more

Ok so, we've now blown into a full-on personal experience, buckle up boys, girls, NBs, anything in between, and I feel like I'm forgetting someone so apologies! But yeah, muscular women in media tend to be a lot more inspiring than people seem to give them credit for. This comes down to a mix of both the qualities I outlined earlier in what makes the characters inspiring but also plays into the idea of body diversity.

One of the traits that make amazons seem more inspiring is their inherent rarity/lack of screentime. As I stated earlier, whilst I do enjoy my fair share of man-titties, it kind of gets to a point where it's more depressing than inspiring when all you see is just super-models shoved in your face whenever you walk into a theater. If for every Goku I could find ten other guys who were on the chubbier side then I'd be able to take more from when I see Goku and other characters with his body type, yet it's so saturated that it no longer becomes something to aspire to, but simply the norm. It's not that you can work to become muscular or skinny with hard work and effort, you have to be muscular or skinny unless you want to be deemed a failure. Being chubby often isn't presented as a starting point but just treated as a defect. As someone who spent years battling with my own self-perception, that's just not a good message to get across.

Now, this obviously isn't to say that people can never make muscular characters. After all, it's their story so they can put whatever they want in it. The aim of the game isn't to stop people from making a specific type of character, but to encourage a diverse set of people to make a diverse set of characters. This is the reason why I view muscular women as so inspiring. Instead of coming across as just "the norm" or "the standard" they stand out from the crowd and despite knowing what they have to deal with, are still ready and willing to work out and improve their bodies. They had a goal in mind and set time aside to achieve said goal, that's something I can get behind.

Conclusion:

This will be another short section, but I just wanted to mention it because it caps off my thoughts on this post in general. What originally started as me just not getting the reason why people disliked Teela's design somehow turned into a passionate rant and I'm A) not sure if it fits on this particular subsection of the community, B) scared I'm going to get ripped to pieces, and C) somewhat unsatisfied with all that I said. At the end of the day, this probably won't be seen by too many people, but to those who do see it, I hope you have a wonderful day. I just wanted to talk about something that was near and dear to my heart and hoped that I made it clear why I view things the way I do.

P.S: Can we stop having this double standard where we act like women whose arms show the slightest hint of definition are "unrealistic" whilst men can look like tree trunks and be considered normal and healthy? please and thank you!

#rant post #character rant #please help I'm new to tumblr and a boomer when it comes to tags #tropes #trope discussion

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moontheoretist · 3 years

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I am watching What IF...?

Episode 1: What if... Captain Carter were the First Avenger?

You know... when I saw that it started from the breach in Captain America timeline and saw Peggy become a super soldier, I was pretty sure that Steve will resent her for what she did, because his portrayal in the First Avenger movie even before the serum indicated that he would be, just like he was of Bucky for being drafted while he was left behind. It’s canon behavior for him as far as I noticed.

What If..?’s Steve however is a better man. I dunno when exactly he changed, but he did. He doesn’t act as if he resented Peggy, and he seems quite ok with how everything turned out. Which is like, wow, I didn’t expect that. Also, Peggy has a far better story as Captain.

Like, she isn’t put into USO, she is denied being a soldier even, because she is a woman, the only thing she seems to share with Captain America is murdering punching bags and throwing stuff when angry, which is kinda a bad sign, but ok, everybody needs coping mechanisms. ANYWAY, when she learns where Hydra went, she quickly figured out what they were after, but the guy in charge (John Flynn), the same one who told her that she is a woman not a soldier, doesn’t want to send her there even though they still have a chance to get it back in time. So Howard steps in and her whole rebellion against the military is about not endangering everybody with a stupid ass decision made by a general who doesn’t get how important the cube is, instead of about saving just one man and accidentally saving 400 others by extension by literally going AWOL and endangering his friends like MCU Steve did. Everything about the mission which makes her recognized is about retrieving the Tesseract. And Howard gives her a uniform and a shield to do just that. All in British colors, because American military sucks.

(I love their “she just reaped the bars out, holy shit” faces xD)

AND THEN they go SAVE BUCKY. That makes much more sense story wise. And also Howard is showing Steve that technology can aid him when the serum now can’t, because Peggy is the super soldier instead, literally building better foundations for Steve’s attitude towards technology and the future. He will not be stuck in ice and come back for the Avengers, but at least he is getting better development not only in relation to this topic, but also to his hatred towards his body and his masculinity. Peggy still wanting him despite him being small and frail and now also disabled even more after he was shot and has to walk with a cane, literally builds in Steve the idea that his masculinity is not weak or bad, because he is not a macho muscly type and that his body isn’t something which he should hate or which makes him less than others. AND he is literally Tony now! I did suspect that the technology he got was a suit, but damn, is Steve in this universe fated to be the first Iron Man and then Tony second?

Lol, they named him “Hydra Stomper”.

And now Peggy teaches Steve the most important lesson “the Suit is nothing without the man inside”, which he as much as Tony needed to learn to finally feel free and not less than the others, because they rely on something. The only difference between Steve and Tony here is that Iron Man without Tony is truly nothing, because he made it, while Steve's suit was given to him, so anybody can technically pilot it. Anyway, I like this Steve so much more than MCU one.

(Which when I think about it now creates a pothole in the later part of the episode. Like why Hydra and Red Scull let the suit hanging instead of use it against Peggy? Why put Steve in chains next to it? It kinda looks like damseling him for literally no reason. I wonder why they didn’t kill him right away? Because what? Because he had blonde hair and blue eyes? Or what? Scull liked him? And we cannot even say it was done for the sake of Peggy saving him, because Peggy never sees Steve in chains. She went the other way, so why is he there? To save for whom? Bucky? It would be more logical if Red Scull just killed Steve and put the suit himself and fought Peggy in it to hurt her. Then at least space squid wouldn’t kill him, lol... ah wait. OH, yeah, Tesseract was inside the suit, so he just took it out. Still, he could power up the suit with something else and put one of his people inside to fight Peggy anyway, just in case she came for him).

AND OF COURSE HE HAD TO TRAGICALLY DIE WHEN I FINALLY STARTED LIKING THE WEASEL! LOL, we know what will happen next. He will become the new Winter Soldier, I suppose? If he survived the explosion.

Oh, they brought the original castle storyline back! It never appeared in the Captain America: The First Avenger, even though I personally remember a castle being a main stage for the whole “Steve sacrificed himself prelude” thing, so it’s nice to have a castle and an interdimensional portal back, instead of a plane battle.

“I am up for anything, but this is crazy”.

“And so is Steve Rogers”

Me: *wheezing*

Anyway, he survived. There is no Winter Soldier in this universe and Peggy gets lost in the portal, and she is brought back to 2012 by I suspect Project Pegasus as it is the “Loki’s arrival” scene.

I think that now, if we assume that everybody else is still present in this universe, meaning that Tony became Iron Man and all, Steve becoming a Hydra Stomper and working with Peggy gave Captain Carter an experience in fighting alongside someone in a metal suit. Plus her friendship with Howard means that she won’t have any bad disposition towards Tony and hence Avengers team will actually work better, and if there is Civil War it would be different and about something else, because Captain Carter knows her way around learning political related stuff, so she wouldn’t really kick Accords in the ass unless it was a Hydra plot. I also suppose that without her making Project Paperclip, Hydra would not infiltrate SHIELD, or someone else does that, and Captain Carter would notice something is not right with SHIELD, and she would root the Hydra out herself.

Also, I wanna point out that the scene in which Peggy is shown to be “smarter than Howard” is there only to establish the difference between her and MCU Steve Rogers, who doesn’t know shit about technology. It’s not that Howard isn’t smart anymore. He is a civilian, who is not a brawling type, in a room with a huge octopus which crushed Red Scull like a wooden stick. It stands to reason that he would be panicked enough to not be able to articulate properly. It also establishes that no “it runs on some kind of electricity” will happen in this universe during the Avengers storyline, where she ends by the end of the episode. It comes out a little out of the blue, that’s true, but this is not a line which only “genius” or “science type” can say. It’s just a typical sci-fi approach to the problem with anything, which also sounds smart at the same time. She could even take it out from a sci-fi novel. But I agree that they didn’t establish where that knowledge comes from in any of the previous scenes.

Episode 2: What if... T’Challa became a Star-Lord?

Lol, a vastly different reaction xD

And this was the moment when young T’Challa thought, “who needs to tell their baba that they’re going into space, anyway?” and just went and disappeared. I don’t even wanna know what Wakanda did after the prince vanished. Though it means that Shuri can become a queen and the Black Panther now, HELL YEAH!

And this is the proof that anybody who says that we have to murder someone else to “save the planet” from overpopulation is wrong. (Because they are wrong, just go and check studies about that). T’Challa just showed Thanos the benefits of equal share of the resources and saved the universe with logic and diplomacy.

And my hopes for Queen Shuri just went out the window. BTW, why Nebula turned into a living example of “blue space babe” (from feminist studies which pointed out that alien women are just human women painted colors and shown in sexy clothes or portrayed as dancers and prostitutes for the benefit of the male gaze). She got sexy hair, sexy dress, and she is later shown to be some kind of spy by the clothes she wears and her general attitude. She reminds me so much of Natasha that I am tempted to say she is a sexy spy cliché.

It’s kind of degrading after the whole episode which centered around a woman being denied being a soldier, which in the whole militaristic and male dominated setting was pretty much conveying feminist messages, while here in another male dominated setting we have only two women shown with any lines and one of them is Nebula sexy spy. It just comes across weird after the previous episode, tbh.

She even speaks like Natasha from the MCU... and she betrays just like our dear russian friend, Natasha. Anyway, it looks like Queen Shuri is still on the table! Wakanda prevails! It was not destroyed!

Ok, nevermind. She is a space Black Widow, but in this way that she plays every side just like Natasha does. Apparently... betrayal was part of the plan, lol. What is with this idea that women named with a name starting with N are good spies in this universe?

Carina the badass! GO CARINA! SHOW THEM!

At least in this universe, she doesn’t foolishly die for “drama”. Or, in MCU’s case, for exposition to show “what happens to those who touch the infinity stone”. I gotta say, her revenge was sweet.

#what if...?#what if...? spoilers #peggy carter #bucky barnes #nebula #t'challa #thanos #mcu steve rogers critical #what if...? steve rogers rulez #mcu critical #feminism #why did you have to sexualize Nebula to make her second Natasha?

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