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blueberrybladelemonade · 5 months

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Colors of Obstinacy

You're supposed to meet your boyfriend in the nearby city. Which you hate visiting, mind you. Unfortunately you end up waiting too long and you have to search for him. When you find him you're less than pleased.

The bustling city streets were alive with the sounds of honking horns, vehicles whirring by, and chatter from pedestrians. Your eyes scanned down yet another alleyway with a frown.

Upon seeing another empty alley a low sigh escaped your lips, once again not finding what, or rather, who you were searching for.

You directed your attention back towards the sprawling street before begrudgingly continuing through the city.

After this trip you were going to talk to Phil about more local options. This place was a nightmare to navigate. A car alarm began to blare in the distance making you grit your teeth. The sound bounced off the buildings only to be amplified, in turn worsening your growing headache. On second thought, no, this place was a nightmare in general.

Tall buildings seemed to touch and choke out the sky overhead. On the plus side -and it was a minimal positive in a sea of negatives- at least the clouds provided some form of shade from the sun. Your nose wrinkled in disgust as a whiff of smoke assaulted you. Or at least you thought it was the clouds, maybe it was just smog.

You navigated the maze of city streets, before weaving down another less populated one. You give a half hearted glance into another alley.

A bright blob of red caught your attention and you turn your head to fully take in the sight. You squint at the large pepper that was nonchalantly coloring the brick wall with spray paint.

Fury bubbled in your throat as you marched into the alley. You finally found him.

"Phil!" You snap, leering at Pepperman as he jolted up and away from the wall, the metal can clanging to the pavement. He slowly turned to meet your gaze with a nervous grin.

With him out of the way your lips formed a thin line as you took in Phil's "artwork". This was what he was busying himself with instead of meeting you? You had just spent the last thirty minutes in this city hunting him down, getting yelled at by pedestrians you bumped into, stepping in some mystery fluid, and to top it off, were forced to watch a poorly done street performance by some group called "Green Bacon".

Phil remained motionless, waiting for your imminent rant, watching as your face gradually transformed into a snarl. He knew he was supposed to meet you at 11am. Surely it wasn't that late? His eyes drifted down to his watch, blood running cold as the clock read 11:43am.

Oh. Oh dear.

There was an entire tirade you were five seconds away from going on from Phil's stunt. Rather, you opt to draw in a deep breath and exhale hard. Phil flinching slightly as your eyes met his bright blue ones. He braced himself as your mouth began to part.

"Stop making graffiti art of Peppino. We're late for your dentist appointment"!

"He started it"! At an instant Phil shot you an indignant look.

"And pray tell, started what?" You demanded, putting your hands on your hips.

"I simply entered his establishment and had asked if I could capture his form upon my canvas".

You make a face. "Don't tell me you gave Peppino that weird-"

"I merely praised his physique and -"

"And he decked you in face". You quickly finished for him.

Phil gave an irritated huff, "Correct. I am not one to take such brutish actions lightly, and we then entered a scuffle".

"Ok but what does that have to do with the graffiti art"?

"My dear Y/N, surely you understand this is a form of expression? In more common terms, I believe one may call this 'vent' art".

Wordlessly you point aggressively to the nearby sign -looking worse for wear with some letters peeling off- 'No crime allowed'.

"I think vandalism counts." You reply flatly.

Phil gasped and held a hand to his chest. "My dear Y/N! I have not committed any such crime! I am no such ruffian -unlike that Italian- this is quite legal, I assure you"!

You watch as Pepperman spreads his arms out and gestures to each side. "This district specifically caters to -and allows- graffiti art, with no fear of consequence. Every month the art here gets painted over and..."

Phil's words faded from your attention as you tilt your head to look at the caricature he had been working on and squint. Did that say "Poopino"?

You shot him a dull look as he was still rambling.

"Come on!" You interrupt, reaching for and tugging at Phil's arm. "You said we'd go to Gabriel's to eat after your appointment"!

You really wanted that foot long shrimp and you'll be damned if you came to this city for nothing. Especially with what ever you stepped in that still stubbornly clung to the bottom of your shoe. He owed you that much at least.

"No! I am not done! I must fully convey my intentions!" Phil shot back, attempting to dig his heels into the ground.

"Phil you wrote 'Poopino' if you're going to insult someone at least do better than that!" You snap.

"Oh ho! Are you implying you could do better"?

You huff and release your grip, crossing your arms across your chest. "Of course I can"! With a brief pause your eyes trailed off to the side considering your options. As inspiration came to you, you flashed Phil a smug grin.

"I know three fat people and he is three of-" you clamp your jaw shut, stopping yourself. Instead you glower at the anthropomorphic pepper. "Phil quit being a sore loser and let's go! You can't make childish art of everyone you fight with"!

"My dear, art is a vehicle of expression! I must complete this! My appointment is not until 1pm"!

You let out an exasperated sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "You painted a drawing of Theo titled 'Dumb Weenie' last month! Why is all of your vent art so childi-"

Click

You jerk your head over your shoulder at the sound. A large pig was stooped down beside the alleyway entrance, holding his camera pointed towards you both. Instinctively you raise your hands to cover your face while Phil simply chuckles and waves.

* * * * *

"So you come here to paint on the walls that often?" You ask, arm linked with Phil's as you both backtrack

"Indeed! The locals here enjoy taking pictures of every participant's art. As, like I stated, the walls are renewed into clean canvases each month. These walls truly capture the meaning of fleeting art".

"Huh..." You trail off, coming to a halt at the crosswalk. As you wait for the light to change a familiar off key singing and snorting speeds by. You watch as the vehicle shaped like a hotdog and bun drives down the road.

"I think they need a new hobby." You grimace, watching as the obnoxious green vehicle disappears over the hill.

Pepperman quirks and eyebrow before shaking his head with a chuckle. "That is their hobby my dear Y/N. They play poorly with deliberation".

"What?" You ask, beginning to walk across the street. The dentist's building coming into view as you round the corner.

"The 'Green Bacon' troupe dress up as well known celebrities. Their performance is an allusion for how, in due time, celebrities fade out of popularity and yet attempt to claw their way back to favor no matter how futile it may be".

You remain silent, contemplating Phil's words. Now that he mentioned it you did notice a lot of this city had over the top theatrics. Was this city just one huge performance?

As if reading your mind Phil pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. "My dear Y/N, you should return here with an open mind! Do not take everything here at a face value. Would you like to know what is special about the aquarium we are going to visit"?

You gawk at him, silently urging him to go on. With a smile Phil leans down and drops his voice to a whisper as if revealing an ancient secret. "It is a place of wonder. The attraction is partly the visitors themselves and in part, literal renditions of such creatures as 'angel fish' and 'zebra lion turkeyfish', it is a place that makes complete and no sense at all! A place of harmony but also chaos".

As you make your way up the stairs to the door to Phil's dentist you give a small smile. The first genuine one you had since arriving in the city.

Maybe you judged this place too harshly after all. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy this city and what it could offer.

A screech of tires makes you stagger as you jump in surprise. You yelp as your foot collides with the concrete step, Phil helping you steady yourself as you stagger. Thank you." You grumble, your head beginning to pound again.

Or maybe you'd just grow to simply tolerate it.

Special thanks to my friend @pervertedindividual for their silly doodles always being my inspiration for my non-Peppino x Reader fics.

Stay tuned for a few more fics to come out in the coming weeks! I've been working on a few on n off and I think y'all will enjoy them when they get completed and posted 💜

#pizza tower #pizza tower x reader #🫐bladezfics #pepperman x reader #pepperman #phil pepperman

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asprngdeductionist · 4 months

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The personal blog of "Adum Jane"

Hello there. Long time no see. I have been on a hiatus for a longer time than I am comfortable with. I'm not saying I'm going to come back. No I won't. To deduction? Maybe. To blogging? Unlikely. I just want to say thanks for the community. It's been a fun ride.

Personal Stuff

This isn't a usual post. I don't usually do this. I kinda need to vent a little bit. I have a lack of trust for human beings. I know people and how they think. Human beings are fucking disgusting when you think about it. We lie, we cheat, we harm others of our kind intentionally, we betray. The sheer amount of ranting I could do about human nature is a disgusting amount.

I fucking hate myself. I'm a human being. I Have flaws. Just like you. I am a stupid piece of shit. Every single human flaw I can make I make. It's starting to really piss me off. I am a piece of shit. NOT just subconsciously. I do it on purpose. OK I usually do it to people who irritate me on such a level that I just have to insult them. But I honestly go off the rails sometimes and start insulting my friends. It's good context to know that I have a friend-group of merely 5 people(myself included). From these, I only really trust 1. My girlfriend. And if I start insulting them, they'll turn away. I can't live with the fact that I am an asshole most of the time.

The reason I stopped deducing

Recently my relationship of around 8 months started blooming again. I started really loving her. Caring for her. Instead of handling her like a chore once a week. I stopped deducing because it was getting in the way of my thinking when I was with her. Just to clarify: I have two big things in my life sprint kayaking and my girlfriend. I can't give up the former because that's the only one that I'm above average at. I need to spend a lot of time with the latter or else I will start treating her like shit again. I'll try and manage to put the smaller thing in there like: deduction and...

My passion for music

My passion for music started last summer when I started listening to non-mainstream bands. I started listening to Sting and The Police. Not too common for a person my age. Then I started listening to Nirvana one day in the winter. I got hooked. I had a spark. A few years ago my father got a guitar. An Ibanez acoustic guitar. My brother started playing it. He had that spark there. He bought his own electric guitar to feed his desire for Metal. The acoustic was there collecting dust for around a year. Cut back and there is this spark that I don't know what to do with. I picked up that guitar eager to learn. I know exactly when, because it was around a week after we got together with my girlfriend. I learnt some one string riffs. By January I had my first guitar. A cheap strat I bought for 100 bucks. I learnt and I learnt feeding that spark that grew into a fire. I started listening to Foo Fighters, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Megatdeth all the good stuff. I even bought a better guitar. And now I have this ache to perform after learning for 8 months. This fire is now in danger because it's hard to squeeze practising in the little time-frame I have for just myself.

This was all I wanted to say. Thank you for the support through my blogging journey.

Happy motherfuckin' deducing!

#deduction #body language #observation #the mentalist #personal #life #music #guitar

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offbranddrpepsi · 2 years

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But a Moment

Sova x Omen fluff where Omen is jealous Sova is always busy

The archers' day had been busy as usual. There was no mission so he was fortunate in that regard but that still left many things to be done. He had to oversee the dualists as they trained as a precaution set by Sage. It wasn’t that their healer was worried they’d get hurt but was more so concerned over them damaging the training range with too many modifications. From there he had to format several reports for Brimstone and Viper both in written and audio format. It was tedious but simple and he wasn’t one to complain about the type of work. The next thing in his schedule was to workout with Breach and then go running with Skye which left him sweaty and tired. Showering off before heading to Killjoys lab, he carried along his little owl drone.

“Aw, has the little guy stopped working again?” the engineer's voice cooed as she took the small bot from him. Turning it over in her hands a glob of familiar paint fell out of it. “Oh.”

“Raze got a bit too careless while training and it caused him to over heat, can you fix it?” while his voice wasn’t pleading he was still desperate to get it fixed. It was a vital part of his equipment as well as a good companion in the field. “I can have it cleaned out and the fan fixed by tomorrow morning,” rubbing the little owl on the head she placed it down. “I will also get onto Raze for you and see if we can modify her grenades a bit.” Waving his hand as he left he kept going about his day. Neon needed something moved so he did it, Jett wanted to try to knock his arrows out of the air with her kunai, Chamber pestered him for some insight into his training; there was hardly anything he wouldn’t at least humor for the other agents so he rarely had a moment to breath. After several hours the sun had dipped below the horizon and Sova had finally been granted a moment to breath. In his bed is where he sat, laying on his back with his eyes closed listening to music. It was peaceful and how he spent most of his scarce down time. The room in the air suddenly shifted and became cooler than it was while also densier, feeling this it was trying to consume him. Sova knew the source of the disturbance and merely responded by pulling out his ear buds. “You do know I have a door? You don’t have to sneak through the vents like a mouse and linger around me until I acknowledge you.” Opening his eyes he was met with absolute darkness as he had expected. With a small smile at his partner's antics he held open his arms to the darkness before him. “Come on, stop throwing a fit, it doesn't suit you.” The darkness seemed to almost growl before it pulled itself together, forming the shape of a man on his chest. Arms found their way around him while the wisp’s head was placed on his chest just below his neck, facing away from him. “There, isn’t that better?” Another growl omitted from Omen before he shifted to look at the blonde.

“Why.” it was a statement, a bit of irritation coating it. “Why are you always so willing to be dragged into everyone’s business.”

“They need me and I am more than happy to answer,” the small laugh that left his mouth only earned him a groan and a squeeze. “Would you have me not be dependable? Would you prefer I be like Yoru? Never be there when you need him unless he can be bothered to be?”

Several minutes of silence passed before there was a reluctant answer, “No.” He had to hold in another laugh at the embarrassed response, knowing he would only earn the other man’s ire.

“Then what am I to do?”

“Spend more time with me and less running around. They can figure things out themselves. They are not chickens.”

“Perhaps, but I cannot have a sound conscious ignoring their requests.”

“Then I will ignore them for you.” Sova finally burst out laughing. A laugh which, despite his lack of response, Omen cherished. Omen moved with Sova’s chest as he laughed, head and torso shaking with him. The archers arms were tight around him as he brought the two of them to a sitting position. Adjusting himself with his shadows, Omen was now perched in his lap now overlooking the man. It looked a bit comical given they two were nearly the same height with only barely a centimeter between them but was still comfortable and they fit well together as they always did.

“How will you do that? By guarding my door like a little dog or perhaps a big scary cat?” Taking his turn to bury himself into the other man, Sova’s face found Omen’s shoulder. Taking a breath he took in Omens scent. He smelled of old leather and the cold with a bit of smoke left lingering from his time lurking. Sova loved it. It reminded him of his home that he often didn’t get to see and missed. Just sitting with Omen almost always felt like a little piece of home. He knew that everything was alright and that no one needed saving. That his duty, while never finished, had taken a pause.

“No, I am not an animal.” Omen sounded annoyed but Sova knew better. He knew that Omen was happy about him being able to laugh and be silly after such a long day. “I would tell them you were busy, it wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Then you would have me busy all the time, wouldn’t you?” Omen sat in silence once again knowing Sova was right. If the living shadow had his way then he would never leave the other man's side. Both of them would be bound to each other as much as they could tolerate, existing in the same space every chance they got. Sova did like the idea of just wasting time existing together but he knew it wasn’t practical. He also wasn’t bothered by Omen desiring more time with him or being so fussy when he didn’t get enough attention. Even when he acted the most jealous of the others stealing the archer’s time, Sova couldn’t bring himself to be mad. It was perfectly normal to be possessive towards your partner especially when you were used to things not feeling real or permanent. Sova knew what he was getting into with Omen and Omen knew how busy Sova was. They found their balance, even if it wasn’t perfect, and spent most of their down time wrapped around each other doing nothing but enjoying the other's presence.

“I would and you’d enjoy it.” Rubbing his head into Omen’s shoulder he stayed silent. He was entirely right, he would.

#valorant sova #omen valorant #sova x omen #Valorant

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peninkwrites · 2 years

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Part III: A Patchwork Powder Keg - Ch 1 of 14

Trouble continues to unravel, but the fuse is already lit.

The city might have a serial killer on their hands.

[CW: violence, murder.]

NOTE: this chapter is written from c!Dream’s perspective and was made before the recent allegations. His character is an unsympathetic villain regardless of the POV, and going forward I will not have any more chapters from his POV and will do my best to limit his presence.

crossposted to ao3

Mafia AU masterpost

Part II

Ch 2 - Wilbur & Tommy

Ch 3 - Wilbur & Ranboo & Niki

Ch 4 - Ponk

Ch 5 - Sapnap

Ch 6 - Quackity

Ch 7 - Tubbo

Ch 8 - Antfrost

Ch 9 - Tubbo & Quackity

Ch 10 - Sapnap & Sam

Ch 11 - A Collective

Ch 12 - Another Collective

Ch 13 - Tubbo

Ch 14 - Jack & Niki & Tubbo

~ Dream ~

It’s late. Dream has already had an irritating day, Sam was a pathetic mess who still found time to scold him, and Sapnap seemed so surprised that he had the audacity to do his fucking job and treat a rat like a rat. Not to mention other difficulties he’d had the night prior, ones that ended with a knife in his leg. And a bite mark in his arm. And a deep scratch across his neck added to the pile earlier that same night.

But no matter.

Any frustrations he has now will be easy to vent tonight.

Dream pulls his hood up, adjusting his mask. He keeps his gun under his arm, the holster exposed but that doesn’t matter. Already his mask gives away his less than charitable intentions, what matters is they don’t recognize him. He doesn’t intend to use the gun, it’s there as a last resort. This kind of work calls for silence.

Dream keeps his head down, moving quickly through the streets, tightening his gloves as he walks. He has nothing identifiable on him. No wallet, no badge, the gun under his arm has had its serial numbers mysteriously shaved off. Anything he needs to know for tonight, he has memorized. He knows what to look for.

He’s in Manberg territory now, he thinks. That’s trouble. That’s perfect.

Everyone knows where Schlatt’s townhouse is, it stands out bright white on the street. The problem always lies in the technicalities. Knowing where he lives didn’t give them any power to do things legally. But that’s not what these nights are for. It’s late now, well after midnight. Dream has mug shots memorized, but at this point anyone on the street this late is likely up to something. So Dream waits, he lurks behind the corner, staring at Schlatt’s house. He’s good at being patient.

He is rewarded by a car pulling up outside. Dream keeps one hand on his knife. He can’t actually go in the house, he knows Schlatt will have guards stationed. He can’t quite make out the driver, but out of the passenger side, a young man leaves, a boy really. Dream calms, disappointed. The kid speaks to the driver, turns around, and heads up to the house. What’s a kid doing marching into JSchlatt’s house at 1 am?

The driver leaves. The street falls silent once more.

Dream gets impatient. He leaves, circling the block, wandering the streets. He doesn’t know a few blocks over, a couple of strangers turned brothers are having a good time defacing property.

Dream probably wouldn’t have killed them for it. Merely threatened to. But instead Dream turns left instead of right, and finds far more promising prey.

A man whose hand is bandaged, a bullet having torn through it earlier that day, struggles to load his gun, leaning against a corner in an alleyway.

It’s too easy.

Once more he checks his mask is firmly affixed, although he has a feeling this will not be an interaction with witnesses left behind.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” Dream strolls over to him, speaking up loudly as he turns into the alleyway.

The man jumps, half the bullets in his unbroken hand clatter to the ground. “Get the fuck out of here if you wanna live.”

Dream tilts his head, amused, looking at the gun in his hand. “I mean, did you manage to get any bullets in there? What happened to your hand?”

“You’ve got a fucking death wish, pal,” the man snaps. “I was already planning on killing an arrogant little brat, might as well kill another one,” he hadn’t managed to load his gun. He reaches for a knife.

He’s so slow.

Dream is disappointed. He almost thought this would be interesting. Dream doesn’t even bother with his own knife, he grabs the man’s wrist and turns it back toward himself. The guy is pretty big. He could be stronger than him, but he’s stuck at an awkward angle and before he can reach Dream, his own knife is in his shoulder.

“What the fuck–” He gasps, falling against the wall. “I’ll fucking kill you–” He raises his gun. He pulls the trigger three times.

Dream laughs. “You couldn’t get a single bullet in the chamber? Because, what, you got a little cut on your hand?”

“You’re a fucking dead man, you don’t know who you’re messing with–” The man swings at him, no knife, just his fist, so Dream steps back, blocking the blow by hitting the man’s arm. Child’s play.

“You’re starting to get on my nerves,” Dream sighs, going for his own knife. It’s nothing like the toothpick this poor fool had tried to swing at him. It’s a bowie knife, one that Dream knows is illegal in the city, the blade alone almost a foot long, but plenty of illegal things are allowed to continue here. Dream is merely bending the rules, cleaning up the mess.

“Whoa– Hold on–” The man steps back, hands raised at the sight of a nasty blade. “I meant that shit, you don’t know who you’re messing with, you kill me, you’re fucked–”

“Be quiet for a second,” Dream holds the blade to his throat, scanning the man’s face. “I know you.”

The man stares only down at the knife, barely listening.

“Oh!” Dream laughs, delighted. “Oh my god– You’re one of JSchlatt’s little guard dogs! What’re you doing over here?” He steps closer, their faces inches apart, his knife brushing close enough to draw a thin trickle of blood from his throat. “Hm? You can answer. You and daddy dearest have a falling out?”

The man glowers at him. “What the fuck do you want? D’you want money? I can get you money.”

“No. No, I don’t need money,” Dream still just sounds amused. He is amused. Of all the bastards to kill tonight… “Why don’t you beg for your life?”

“Go to hell–”

Dream presses the knife in closer, blood flowing in earnest down his chest. “You first,” Dream smirks behind his mask. He’d wanted to relieve stress, hadn’t he? It’s almost therapeutic. “Go on, then. Tell me why you deserve to live. You’re nothing but a pathetic lowlife, a criminal.”

“What if– What if I can give you someone better, to kill, eh?” The man is breathing very carefully, trying to keep the blade away from his neck. “I was going there right now– Gonna kill off the last of Schlatt’s fucking legacy. You want criminals? That’s where you go.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Dream scoffs. “Schlatt has a guard posted. Always. There’s no way in hell I’m walking into your buddy’s hideout.”

“No, no the guards aren’t there, see? This stupid fucking kid, he–”

“I’m not going to believe you. Try again.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. Calling me a fucking lowlife when you’re sneaking around in a mask–”

Dream slits his throat.

“God, you were just so boring,” Dream grumbles as the man slides to the ground of the alleyway, clutching his throat. He has a couple minutes left, if that. “I said beg for your life, not justify yourself. Why’d you think that was gonna work?” Dream gives him a kick before that last bit of fear fades from his eyes. “This could’ve been fun if you actually knew how to fight, huh?”

Dream stares at the body for another moment. Another pathetic waste of oxygen, in another pathetic patch of the worst of this city. “No one’s gonna miss you, right? Not even Schlatt, I’d bet,” he says softly. Dream leaves him there. A civilian will find him in the morning, maybe it’ll scare them at first, but once it hits the papers what he’d done while alive, they’ll ultimately be grateful.

Dream heads back down the street. He will spend the rest of his evening easily. He will find a car thief trying to jimmy open a door. He’ll beat the guy senseless, but he’ll let him live. And the rest of the night will stay quiet. He will return to the apartment, exhausted, content, and not knowing he has just saved a young mob boss’s life.

#mafia au #my writing #this is short but how could i not kick of part 3 with a bang?#i am not tagging the character lol i don't wanna interrupt the other things going on in the tag rn #violence cw #/roleplay #i would hope it's obvious but gonna bring that tag back for today #also if it's not clear the guy he killed? he's the one tubbo shot in the hand in the last fic. and yes he was going to go kill tubbo #but don't even worry about it tbh

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musings-of-a-mecha-ghost-girl · 7 days

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Is it a vent if it's done creatively? I think this is probably a healthier form of expression than straight-up venting. It's like if I write about my feelings, it forces me to confront them and figure out how to express them without harming myself or others.

I'm an addict. I'm not addicted to any drugs, or to sex, or to any particular person, place, or thing. I'm an addict for a feeling.

It's kind of sad, actually. The feeling that I'm addicted to is a feeling that comes so natural for anybody else: belonging. Belonging in my body, belonging in my home, belonging in the company of other women.

I might've lied a little bit when I said I'm not addicted to drugs, it's not really drugs though, in the sense that testosterone blockers and estrogen aren't controlled substances. The feeling that I was talking about comes from the HRT, well maybe not the HRT exactly, but still.

The withdrawals are horrifying when I'm not able to feel that comfort and sense of belonging when I'm out of my HRT. When I run out, it starts a slow but mentally painful, almost kafkaesque process of metamorphosis. It starts with a mood change, I become more aggravated, easily annoyed, and irritable. At the same time, I develop an almost bestial hunger for flesh, like a vampire at the mere sight of a nape of the neck. My body grows hairier as I become haunted by the ghost of my Father as I catch myself standing like him, walking like him, sitting like him, leaning like him, like him, like him, like a him.

I want to circle back around to that hunger, because of fucking course I do. It's intoxicating and fills my senses, leaving me to feel like a shark with the stench of blood lingering in its nostrils. I feel carnal, raw, my muscles tense up, and my blood starts rushing down. It makes me want to just bite down on someone and not let go, to tear at the body and eat the flesh inside and out. I want to play with my food and make a mess. It starves me a kiss on the lips just to hear the voice that comes out the other side.

I hate it. I can handle the voice cracking, the muscle gain, even the hairiness, to a certain point. But it's the hunger and the desire that commingles with the already present sense of yearning. I hate the way my eyes move up and down another woman, fulfilling and painting the picture of two awful stereotypes with one shitty brush stroke. In those moments, I am both a predatory lesbian and a predatory trans woman. Can I even call myself a lesbian?

Can I call myself a lesbian, when this awful, disgusting change is occurring? Or will I always be the hairy, knuckle dragging, monobrowed, sexed up man invading women's spaces?

I know the answers that I would give the dolls asking that question: those of us who are accessible and pretty enough. I'd say the answer is obviously no. I don't fit that bill, however. I am undeserving of the same grace that I would give to others, even my sisters who don't "pass" (what a shitty, sorry, limiting concept as passability, steeped in white supremacy).

I think that's my father talking. I need to be rigid, polished, a diamond from coal, an Uber Mensch. My expectations for myself should always be higher than my expectations for others. There is no room for self-love in the struggle and strife for perfection, zenith, and Theosis.

I don't want that, though. I want to love and be loved. I want to touch and be touched. I want comradery with my fellow woman, with my fellow queer. I want to know and be known.

Anyway, where was I? Addiction? I'm addicted. I'm addicted to being a woman. I'm addicted to being a lesbian. Mother Mary, by your intercession, may this withdrawal not last long. I'm begging.

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sharransepulchre · 21 days

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Flames licked against Karlach's shoulder, steam billowing against her vents. There was no doubt that the tiefling fumed over the random visit from the devil, Raphael. She tried to keep her cool, she really did, but something within her became extremely defensive and possessive over the fact that this devil came anywhere near her cleric.

"If he makes one move, on god damn move to try and claim your soul, I am going to rip his spine from his back and feed him to his incubus for even THINKING of touching you," Karlach growled, as her fingers curled against her fist, trying to contain whatever wrath linger within her chest. A slow breath left her lips to try to ease the anger but she just could not let it go. Raphael had deceptively tried to trick Shadowheart into a deal and she would have no of it.

"You know, fuck it, I'm going to hunt him down now," Her hoof hit the ground, digging against the dirt as some of the grass burned around her hooves proving her wrathful rage building.

The rage of the cleric's favorite feisty hellion was somewhat sudden, but it was by no means unwarranted. More than that, it wasn't anything particularly surprising. Karlach often expressed her distaste of the Hells and everything that came crawling out of the Lower Planes, and did so typically with axe in hand, ready for the striking of whatever red skinned beast reared its horned head.

It just so happens that, this time around, it was a wolf in sheep's clothing - a well-groomed man that had appeared to the weary party a few too many times to consider a mere coincidence. His appearance, and more pointedly his chosen interaction with Shadowheart, seemed to set Karlach off into a fury. If it were not evident in the blazing irritation in her voice, her face, her tone - then perhaps her thrashing tail was indicative of her particular distaste.

The boisterous barbarian's words, brazen and brash as they were coming from her gnashing maw, warmed something within her chest. Something new. To have someone so outwardly expressing their intention to protect her, of all people, as if she were more of a person and less of a tool - well, that was an entirely foreign existence. If she weren't careful, that feeling could all too easily fall under a certain Mistress's scrutiny, and she would end up worse for wear due to such misgivings.

❝ remind me not to provoke your ire , karlach . ❞ She comments in what could be seen as a teasing and playful way - if not for the feigned disinterest laced into her tone. But, that is quickly dismissed, when those hooves crack against the ground and leave behind fiery steps as she seemingly picks a direction and goes with it. The cleric is quick to pop up to her left hand side - slender fingers outstretched but not ready to touch.

❝ perhaps , ❞ The Sharran begins, her manner of speaking a little more hasty than it had been before, urgency prevalent in the back of her careful tone. ❝ it would be wiser to keep our cards held close to our chest . as much as that scheming wyrm is a pain our finely sculpted rears , perhaps we should approach this a modicum of tact . this is not some false paladin of tyr ; and while my knowledge of the hells is, well - unseasoned - i would advocate for a solution that does not conclude with us landing utterly exposed in the sights of a devil . ❞

#ferinehuntress #[ sharran shadowheart answers ] — have to keep focused. can't afford to get attached to anyone .#[ sharran shadowheart interactions ] — darkness guide me .

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sunstranded · 4 months

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INTJ: Aversion to Critical Thinking

There is this ideation for intellectualism, but when faced with the reality— hot forge one must go through to refine their thinking into critical thinking— people start justifying ignorance (willful and weaponized) with anti-intellectualism? I am getting tired of this mostly because it's the louder most obnoxious people that go through this pipeline.

Definition of terms in the interest of how I use them in this post

Ideation for intellectualism

Wanting to be deemed as smart, knowledgeable, and putting intellectuals in an untouchable and infallible pedestal.

Willful ignorance

Knowing you are wrong and or part of the problem but you willfully deny it because [of a plethora of reasons that we should just call,] convenience.

Weaponized ignorance

you use the fact that you do not know to excuse yourself from doing something when in the first place you could have known it.

Anti-intellectualism

someone feels oppressed by intellectuals and wants to be treated as an equal. This oppression is the "feeling restricted by rights and wrongs."

I can define these more academically but for the interest of this post, I opt out of it. The point is to simplify and vent, not intellectualize and understand.

I can understand and intellectualize, but people have this tendency to use my capacity to understand and articulate THEM better than they themselves to JUSTIFY themselves. I am no one's apologist but myself. If I made the effort to understand someone, that would not get rid of the fact that they were wrong. I am extending mercy— you did me wrong but I am sparing you from an otherwise justifiable frustration and anger.

But I digress. Back to the matter at hand: aversion to critical thinking but ideation to intellectualism. I have an anecdote for this.

It is with an unknown type but a professor. I had witnessed her irritation because some of her students had literally given her a bullshit of an answer. A mishmash of highfalutin bullshit to cover up a lack of answer. I witnessed the fuming agitation with disappointment when she had literally asked a question with a blatant answer on the board.

Obviously, the student was consumed by equal amounts of frustration, disappointment, and embarrassment. Clearly, it manifested as anger and petty annoyance towards someone who is justified to have called out the bullshit and the lack of presentmindedness.

Then, in a different setting, the professor asked this student a critical thinking question after their presentation— they had answered and caused another variant of frustration. It was the lack of critical thought, they were able to present details but with no real meaning, no proper conclusion.

I have no intent of painting one right and one wrong. I merely want to show that the frustration is justifiable; the professor is showing her disappointment. It is apparent that they no longer wanted to show mercy. The professor wanted to hold them accountable. It's also understandable how students react to this. They're embarrassed. However nothing justifies anything they would have done. It would excuse them, but not justify that they were unable to answer— the tone and the context is set. Do not enter a classroom if you do not want to be tested, humbled, challenged.

The anecdote proves I that I can understand the emotions I identify, but I deviate understanding someone's feelings and justification of an action or reaction.

This goes back to my opening salvo on ideation on intellectualism. Do note that the ideation is different from not wanting to be embarrassed or revealed as someone who does not know. Everyone does not want to be revealed as the unknowing idiot and embarrassed. The difference is that there are people who helplessly idealize this intellectualism. "Of course, you'd know. You'd get it. You're smart." This helplessness or hopelessness to not be a knower is what I particularly find tiresome. Add into that the weaponized and willful ignorance that is used as a justification or plea for understanding that really tests my strength—my patience.

Now where does the title lie, how does this all lead to the title: aversion to critical thinking? Well, there's this idea that if you have a longer argument because someone you are arguing with has one liner, you lose or that you are wrong?

This is another reason why I don't spend much time interacting online. A one-liner is always more attractive than a comprehensible and clear argumentation? Then it is these same folks that when their intellect is put under scrutiny, suddenly they are an advocate for anti-intellectualism?

Do people, those who want to be called or recognized as revered intellectuals, not realize that there are things called humility, and integrity?

Do people not realize the brain fog and mental lethargy of just consuming information and not processing it? Do people find silence and the chance for self reflection so scary?

I had met this writer before, and they coined the term zombie horde. I prefer that than the term echo chamber. Why would I make such an unattractive behavior of a collective be detached from them? It is more accurate to call them the brainless but brain hungry horde they tend to behave like.

I wish these zombie hordes find that the cure is something inherent to them. They were (figuratively) human they must go back to that.

People need to stop trying to be different. They just end up the same. People need to realize that they already are.

#mbti #intj

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ipusingularitae · 2 years

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no like let me vent a little bit here

i truly don't appreciate how some therapy lines are so extreme in the sense of only investigating/handling your behavior or just acting like it's something merely in your head that you can't escape from from the minute you were born

last appointment my therapist said that we needed to start investigating for a possible disorder and even considering medication. here's the deal: i had leukemia when i was a child. I've spent my first childhood in the hospital and i don't even know the amount of shit i still have to unpack. I'm 20 now, and i couldn't be more against taking medications as much as i understand how they can be useful

the aspect of investigating my behavior, trying to stablish new ones, trying to find the origins of my pains is very valid. but i don't think many therapists understand how fucking scary it is to even consider changing the way you see the world, the way you exist. because for someone like me, who has developed so many coping mechanisms and strategies to literally live, taking meds and suddenly changing some stuff messes with my world-viewing. it's not just oh stopping to feel anxious. it's the prospect that i don't know myself entirely and before i can do it, i need to change. i don't wanna be a stranger to myself because the moment this happened i felt like everything was crumbling down and I'd rather die than live one more day

what some therapy lines don't seem to grab is the fact that i take something out of my existence. it's not just behaviors or some internal shit that happens independently of me, but maybe all of this and more. i think about it, i have thoughts and feelings and there are results, products and fruits of my existence. and when I'm in that room or, shit, when I'm studying in college that doesn't seem to matter. it's not just "i don't wanna go out", it can be "i don't wanna go out and i have thoughts and feelings about it. i may simply not want to go out, but I'm irritated because there are other people pushing me to do so", or a thousand other experiences

idk, i feel like it's fucking crazy. because, again, it's valid to change behaviors and beliefs but... you haven't even asked me what i take from it. you want me to take medication but do you know how i feel about some of my behaviors? or about how other people react to my behaviors (that a lot of times are just normal and harmless and messes with anybody but me)?

it seems empty. shallow. scrapping the surface. and this is important but it's also not enough

at the same time, having people digging and digging in your psyche it's also useful sometimes. but look around. you're digging this hole but you're not looking around to see what I've build on top of that core, and that matters too. it's like you're going so fucking deep and looking for hidden meanings, but damn sometimes the hidden meaning don't even matter that much

anyways, I'm just thinking. i need to find out what am i gonna do about this, but I'm still wandering and putting pieces together

#venting #anyways nothing to see here #it's just me #talking some shit again #exposing myself #yeah my #mental health #it's not that good #but damn #taking meds #i don't think it's the answer right now #it was for sometime and it helped me #but right now i feel like it'll do more damage #depressed lesbian

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silvcrignis · 2 years

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Easy As Fuck Target || Claude & Joanna

@amaidasfairassummer con’t from {x}

Joanna eyebrows raised at the anger she had provoked, unsure exactly how. She had spoken matter-of-factly and honestly, and this was what she got for it. "I never suggested I am the only one. And what mindset, this has nothing do with mindset!” She was simply speaking based on the evidence of past experience. Who was he to suggest it was all in her head when he barely knew her?

She shook her head in disbelief. "And I don't need a dating app, finding people to date isn’t hard!” Love and dating were entirely different things. Joanna had gone out with a lot of people who had been with her simply because she was pretty, and it had always been a long way from love.

And the idea of her needing a hobby or to start a business was just as ridiculous. “You need to stop making assumptions about me. And no, I’m not going to start telling you a tragic backstory- you’re the one who seems to be more in need of a vent than me at the moment. I’m here, because I’m going to be leaving to start work as an army medic soon, in a warzone, and I wanted to sort out some life insurance or a will or something. My point was that no, I won’t be leaving a pining spouse at home waiting for me.” Again, said simply and matter-of-factly.

It made sense Joanna would think Claude was ANGRY. She did not know him. If Claude was actually angry he would have been barely audible & out of his seat, stooped over her as he hissed directly into her face, fingers TWITCHING to refrain from strangling her. Joanna Lannister had NOT seen Claude Frollo angry & she was LUCKY for that. He had unintentionally made bolder people than HER cry when he ACTUALLY flew into a fury. As it was, his reaction was a result of mild irritation crossed with a very long work day & her whiny little protests only caused a blonde brow to hitch higher & higher as she kept spewing them out but he is utterly SILENT while she did, though his impassive features seemed to be twitching, ESPECIALLY his mouth & was he..? The arrogant cunt was SMIRKING at her!

A long, leather clad leg rose then, stretching FAR across his desk, ending in a large, studded & clearly very expensive Jimmy Choo boot as his pale turquoise eyes rolled.

“Let me just play back what the fuck all of that sounded like to me, Miss Lannister.”

Of course he knew her name already, Claude Frollo knew many things, ESPECIALLY the people walking into his law firm, his minion was ALMOST as good at research as HE was.

He pulled his phone out from the pocket in the dress shirt underneath his purple & black sweater & started playing the fucking baby crying meme sound.

“Very professional of you, all this squealing. But you are correct. I no longer think you require a dating app. I am now of the opinion that you need to find a way to keep your mouth occupied sometimes the same way I do on my off days,” he drawled snidely when the sound clip had finished playing.

He was of the opinion she honestly should not be surprised. Claude Frollo had a reputation of being utterly RUTHLESS both in & outside of the courtroom & she had come here of her own volition.

“You think I need a VENT? That is ADORABLE but having a vent will not make me any money, chérie. Emotional shit is a waste of my time usually. I merely do not bother with it. There are quite a few betting pools on whether I have a SOUL or not. My vote is on or NOT. But that is a common defence lawyer trait, really,” he snorted, laying his phone on his desk as he leaned back in his seat, picking up the court documents he had been reading before as his tone entirely SHIFTED once she actually voiced what she needed, becoming a measured even drawl again as opposed to his outright patronising one seconds prior. He was a pioneer of emotional whiplash.

“... Ah. Not particularly what this firm advertises. Luckily for you it is something I do have experience in,” he replied, brows furrowing at something he was reading, though he snorted at her talking about not having a pining spouse & the IRONY of her coming to a literal war criminal, taking her career into perspective.

“I can see EXACTLY why. You are adorable but utterly MIGRAINE inducing. You are terribly annoying & I do not think you are AWARE of that which in turn makes you twice as irritating. Then again, you ARE English... You lot are not aware of MUCH by nature.”

I would still smash, though. Preferably right against this desk.

HUH. Where the fuck did THAT intrusive thought come from? He was going to need a drink after THIS...

#amaidasfairassummer #c: Claude #t: Easy As Fuck Target #v: Long Live Evil #((... CLAUDE THIS IS N O T HOW YOU TALK TO GIRLS))#Claude vc: Actually I can do whatever I please #((Claudes beef with the English will never relax hes too French for that lmfao))#((Idk why but whenever Claude speaks French I simp))

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thornfield13713 · 2 years

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Is there any betrayal in the world that cuts more deeply than a fic for your OTP suddenly expanding itself into a threesome fic that includes your NOTP?

I am not opposed to threesomes, to be clear, but I do like to know about them ahead of time, especially if That One Character the very sight of whose name makes me arch my back, hiss and spit like a displeased alleycat is involved.

#this is not a callout post #i am not owed anything #i am merely irritated and venting

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shieldarchitect · 2 years

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I’m about to pick my hill to die on again at work. New coworker pushy about camera use during calls. We have no company or department policy for using cameras. 90% of the team does not. I have repeatedly told him I can’t get my webcam recognized on remote sessions when I work from home. True. I don’t have a webcam at work either. Also true.

Things I will be addressing today if he continues to bother me about it: it makes me uncomfortable to have my camera on

This is the same coworker who called me on my cell, I told him I don’t take work calls on personal devices, and then he did it exactly a week later again and I blocked his number.

I don’t want to be *that* person, but I will if you do not respect boundaries I have established. Next step will be to speak the head of our department and HR. So I hope he takes my polite declining of using a camera well. Because it ain’t happening.

Also I’m at home braless and a hot mess, we are packing to move so my apt is a disaster, and this is day 1 of dog sitting my brother in laws family dog who has severe separation anxiety and will likely be in the vicinity of the call.

Not to mention I’m only on this hour long meeting for appx five minutes because I declined it as unnecessary time waste when I have other priority items that need production time. I’m only signing on to verbally introduce myself to the new client rep and sign off.

#ooc post #I’m irritated #edit: i am not asking for advice #merely venting #ty

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

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It’s A Match Chapter One

Masterlist

Disclaimer

Summary: Filming is over and Henry returns home to and empty house. And he doesn't like it, things are getting to him and he doesn't want to be alone anymore. Then his brother suggests online dating, it sounds mad but henry decides to give it a shot. If worst comes to worst he just deletes the profile. He has nothing to loose right?

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Cheese, Self Indulgent Fic, Rpf, Plus sized reader.

A/N: so I wrote this before the whole 'girlfriend' shock and everything that has followed. I was of two minds whether to ever post it but honestly, this is my blog and I've clearly stated that i am going to continue writing Rpf. I want to do a little ficlet/mini fic and well here we go. It wont be smutty just somewhat angsty then fluffy. Enjoy~

Taglist: In Reblogs.

Henry slumped back on the seat in his conservatory and sighed, from here he could see his brothers and their wives outside, each snuggled up on the out door wicker sectional he had got to have the family over. It was the first family get together for over a year. He was happy, god it was amazing to see them but... He couldn't help being a tad envious.

They all had a family, wife and kids to go through this shitstorm in. He had no one, well he ha Kal. But that was it he sighed and looked away sipping from his cup slowly takeing a moment for himself. He needed to just chill, but it was getting hard... This year had really knocked him back he was at an all time low he hadn't felt like this for a long time. He knew he was depressed, he felt stupid there was no reason to be but there we go.

Henry had been getting himself all twisted for a while now, filming the Witcher helped but now that was over and he was home alone. Left with his thoughts in a big empty house.

"Sooo little brother want to tell me what's going on or am I gonna have to get mum in here?" Henry jumped at the voice and spun around to face his brother who was keeping a safe distance at the door. Wiping his hands down clearly just having washed them again.

"I ah its nothing, you know me I'm a worry wart" he said waving off his older brother he didn't want to bring down the mood of the small gathering, it was why he had come in here to take a breather.

"You called us all here for a visit hen, out of the blue when lockdown is still being eased out. Its clear you don't want to be alone, yet your sitting in here alone." His older brother said leaning on the door frame folding his arms trying to figure out what was really going on. He could see his little brother was hurting he wanted to help.

"I've got Kal" Henry said with a chuckle and looked about for the bear only to frown and sigh seeing the room was empty apart fro him and his brother.

"Kal's outside with the kids hen, what's up? You can tell me you know" henry sided as his sibling moved sitting in the small seat across from him. He knew that his family would listen but he felt so... spoilt like he was asking too much and was being selfish. It wasn't like him.

He grunted leaning back choosing not to look at his brother instead focusing on the cup in his hand. He spun it slightly then heaved a sigh. He wasn't getting away with not speaking about it, he was going to air out his worries one way or another. With his brother or his mother, and he loved his mother but this was? He wanted to keep this issues close to his chest. So far only Kal knew about his problems.

"I... I've had enough... just had enough of fucking covid and being alone... i felt isolated before all this shit kicked off and now?" He vented releasing all the fears he had. It was tough, he was a family man without his own little family, he hadn't managed to find anyone to share his life with and it got to him. He tried being sincere and polite, he took care of himself and tried staying true to himself but... something was missing it had to be! On paper he was a safe bet a good man! Yet his relationships never worked. There were different opinions or his other half couldn't handle the life style or they tried changing him or they couldn't put up with the way he loved so furiously- so openly wanting to always hold and kiss them. It just never quite worked.

"Its- fuck everything has just caught up with me...worries I've had for a few years now I could ignore them you know? I had other stuff going on, was always out and about meetings and press tours I was busy! But now?" He tried putting his feeling into words but he was conscious, he didn't want to whine or bitch about his life. He loved his work and the life he had made for himself he just? Wanted someone to share it with.

"Now after covid you've got all the time in the world to think?" Henry nodded agreeing with his brother. Covid had made him face these fears head on. He has been alone for the best part of a year with the uncertainty of his work and filming quarantines and isolations.

"Yeah, it hurts I'm... I'm in deep and I? I don't know how I'm getting out of this slump" henry finally said outloud, his brother dipped his head listening to him as he ranted. Started letting out all the frustration and anxiety out but stopped short with another growl closeing his hand around the cup tightly hissing in frustration then looked away.

"And what's caused it? I know you hate being alone but?" Henry sighed shaking his head as his brother tried coaxing more out of him. He drew in a shaky breath wanting to cry, he was just so lost and upset over being upset and alone.

"Two lock downs... Two alone- I? If this carries on for the next few years I don't... I don't want to be alone anymore! I want to settle down, I want an actual personal life! A relationship a family and? How? How am I gonna find all that? They want fame or money or something! Women never seem to want me for me, they say the do then judge me for my hobbies- I'm a geek I like tech and games and fantasy! And women don't like that" he spewed the words like they were venom, half ashamed of being so dramatic but the fear was real. Henry was scared, he wanted love. He wanted a family of his own, and it seemed impossible, now more then ever.

"I want to meet someone who will take me as I am, for me and I just I'm giving up. I'm giving up on it I can feel it, almost forty and look, alone unmarried no kids-I have no one to share my life with, it hurts am I not good enough for that?" He hung his head as he spoke the final words put loud. He felt so vain and full of himself when he said them out loud, his skin crawled.

But it was how he felt, being the muscular decent looking man he was didn't go with his personality. He was a geek and the woman who were drawn to him didn't want that. And the woman that shared his hobbies normally weren't confident enough to even speak to him. Society's views on acceptable couples had put Henry in no mans land.

"What about online dating?" His brother spoke up but Henry just grunted rolling his eyes frustrated.

"What? No I cant do that I'd be fucking swamped" he hissed in irritation frustrated at the mere suggestion of him trying to date online.

"Whoa hold your horses let me finish I mean come on Hen there's bound to be hundreds of shy sweet women on there, I mean girls that are into your hobbies and stuff aren't usually the ones out and about partying and stuff, so its more likely they will be online" his brother quickly explained before Henry could pop off on one and shut him down.

Henry opened his mouth and stopped himself. That was a good point. Many of the women he would click with weren't going to be in bars or fancy parties. They were normally shy and at home most of the time reading or playing games.

"I... You really think i could meet someone? Meet the one online?" He asked in a small voice warming to the idea. His sibling smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes little brother, your a down to earth guy, just make a profile and have a look, if you don't like what you see you can delete the profile" henry nodded slowly thinking it over. There'd be no harm if he failed well he'd be no worse off, a little disheartened but that's about it.

"Look write down a few things you want in your dream girl, have a pseudo name like fucking I don't know Hank! Or something and say your a runner on set or something" his brother spoke up quickly as Henry sat back and actually thought about it seriously. He was right, henry could tweak things and be careful about what he shared and if he did meet the one then she'd understand... He could explain the predicament he was in. That he just wanted someone who liked him for him. And he would only reveal himself to her if she was the one and he was sure she would understand. As long as he was himself and honest about everything else in his life then there was no harm... and if he used proper photos of himself just... half cropped out then? It wasn't catfishing? Because he was being himself just using the nickname his mother used to call him.

"O-okay so be myself but... Just tweak a few things? So they don't know its me?" He reiterated to his brother still trying to figure out the morality of this whole idea.

"Yes! No full on pictures, no photos of Kal either new photos henry not old, maybe of your eyes up or something? Girls love blue eyed boy- not your right that brown will give you away... you could even fuck em up with a behind the scenes character photo? I mean come on how many men use a superman photo for their profile these days?" He encouraged wanting more then anything to cheer up his little brother.

"I yeah... That could work ,thank you- I'm sorry I got so worked up it... Its just getting to me now" henry apologised but his brother shook his head and chuckled standing up to go back outside to the others that were all happily chatting in the garden.

"I know Hen, look just give it a go, you might be surprized... come on lets get back out there, after all you are the host~ you cant just run off and hide" henry grinned standing and following his brother. It was decided, he'd give online dating a go!

A week later Henry sat at the computer everything was ready, he'd taken some precise photos and had spent the last half hour writing a profile up. He had felt a little guilty about this... Was he lying? Technically it was him, he was going by Hank which was a nickname his parents gave him as a child, luckily this site didn't require a surname because honestly? He had no clue! To fend off some guilt he had thrown in a behind the scenes photo of himself as superman it wasn't much but it helped take the edge off. The other photos were cropped and there were a good few just so that the women knew he wasn't technically a catfish; he even did one with him covering half of his face with a piece of paper with Hank scrawled across it. At the time he felt silly but it helped with his anxiety over the whole thing.

He paused for a second eyeing the screen rereading the profile over and over trying to make sure it was alright and honest. And it was, he had explained a little about himself, his hobbies and interests and his job... Only brushing over he worked for the film and tv industry recently working for Netflix he hadn't exactly explained what he did but there was enough information.

With a deep breath he clicked the button his mouse hovered over going live with the profile. Now all he had to do was wait and hope he caught a good womans eye. Within moments a few profiles popped up, matches. He scanned them flicking through some of the profiles and felt his heart crack. They were all full of badly filtered photos and used slang that to be honest he didn't even understand. What was so hard about using plain English?

He growled growing frustrated clicking through what were clearly a bunch of wannabe sugar babies. Each profile had a main photo a little bit of info then a few more pictures added to them. He scanned each one quickly going through the motions judging each one. 'Too far away... Your clearly not even eighteen?... Oh you like dc? Really hate to break it to you but thor is not a dc character' Henry grunted as he bypassed what felt like hundreds of women each with their own 'duck face' selfie most advertising their Instagram pages some even ballsy enough to add their only fans pages.

'Wait a second who was that?' He paused and scrolled back up and eyed the image on screen. It was a face on photo a cute woman smiling uncomfortably. Unlike everyone else's there was no distorting blur or heavy editing, the only make up was in the form of eyeliner in a set of black slightly uneven cat eyes. A slightly skewed black flicks making a point of no editing on the photo.

She was a full figured woman with proper kissable round cheeks and a sweet nervous grin. Her eyes were what got him, they were kind and genuine he could see she was uneasy about the photo but she was beautiful. She lived about half hour away which wasn't to bad.

Henry clicked the profile and scrolled down she didn't smoke, drunk occasionally and had no children. She did however have a college education in animal care and ran a small business. Centred on dogs by the looks of it. He moved further down reading the profile.

Y/n, 30, business owner, e/c, 5'4, curvy

I'm shy so will take a while to warm up to you. A honest woman, sometimes to honest I don't seem to have a filter 🤗 I'm laid back and tend to be sarcastic and I love animals I'm a kc certified dog breeder as well as run a small successful business that caters to dogs. So if you are allergic or don't like dogs then leave now but thank you for clicking🙃

I spend most of my free time gaming or reading. I enjoy the fantasy genre and love dc and marvel (though I love dc just a tad more🤫)

I have one fur baby in the form of my lovely girl Amii who is a three year old malamute. Yes malamute not a husky or Akita so again if you don't like dogs or big dogs I'm not the girl for you.

I'm looking for someone to have fun and maybe build a life with. Covid has been tough being single and decided that it was about time I tried this whole online dating thing. If you want to chat pop me a message 🥰

I do not have a personal Instagram, snapchat or only fans! Stop asking for pictures!😠😠

Henry's face split into a huge grin. She seemed to good to be true. She was wholesome, successful in her own right and looked fun. She didn't seem to be full of kale and bullshit. Just genuine and? Henry couldn't put his finger on it but there was something drawing him to this woman.

True to her word there was no Instagram link, no only fans or snap chat or anything. He scrolled further seeing photos of her and the biggest fluffiest dog he had ever seen in his life. She was sitting down next to who he assumed was Amii her dog and he melted. Y/n looked happy and content, living her best life.

There was nothing that sent alarm bells ringing, no racey photos or 'Netflix and chill' innuendos. The profile was clean and genuine. He was right the woman was a little chunky but extraordinarily beautiful. The curves suited her and made her look more... cheerful and he could tell she was strong aswell, you had to be to have a huge dog like that about you.

There were photos of her walking a large pack of dogs in the wood; that he recognised! They were the very same he took Kal to only ten minuets down the road, he even recognised the small logo of her company on the jacket she wore. He had seen dog walkers wearing the same jacket so he knew of her brand. I he remembered correctly the company offered dog walking, grooming and kennel facilities as well as offering Breeding services helping stud dogs and stuff. They also helped advertise registered breeders and took in rescues for rehoming. It was a brilliant little company that he had even used for Kal once or twice to get his teeth cleaned and nails clipped, because Kal was a bugger for his pedicures!

He moved further down seeing more photos of the woman a small section with the games and tv she liked. Witcher was in both the tv and games category aswell as peaky blinders, Vikings and a few other shows.

Henry paused as he saw the chat button. Should he? He but his lip twisting on the spot in he chair rocking from side to side. What harm is there? He could just send a message she looked like a fun loving woman, he shared the same interests and stuff... so why not?

His fingers hovered over the keys ready to type out the words. But he choked. His mind ran blank what does he say? Hi? I saw your profile? Does he ask for a date? What does he do?

He let his hands fall and growled. Then scanned over the side of the message bar seeing a few pre-typed responses.

'It's a match!' 'You look fun, lets chat' 'I like your profile picture'

He winced they all seemed... wrong? Somehow they were polite and all but it- they wasn't personal or anything just... not quite right. He looked down as Kal came padding over and slumped next to him resting his chin on his foot with a loud sigh. With that Henry had an idea typing away a little message and hitting send before he could really think.

You sighed typing away the latest wage slips and added up all the various overtime, you really needed some more staff on now that lockdown was coming to an end. Thankfully animal care was essential so you hadn't been hit too hard a few staff were on furlough as they were extreme high risk and shielding but you were going out of your way to make the premises covid safe. Luckily it wasn't too hard as much of the business was just a few staff and lots of dogs.

You frowned when a chat icon popped up in to corner of your screen. 'Hank?' You though trying to remember if you knew a Hank? Maybe a client or some old friend... but you honestly couldn't recall. You l saved your document and clicked the small icon bringing up a chat and frowned a you read the little message.

'I call my dog bear but he has nothing on Amii, Shes the fluffiest dog I've ever seen in my life she looks perfect for bear hugs😅'

'what the hell?' You cursed scrunching your nose up at the screen rereading the words. That's a bit random... you clicked his icon a small photo of half of his face then froze as a dating profile opened up. 'Oh... shit' you said seeing that your own profile you'd set up a few days ago out of curiosity had garnered the attention of the handsome blue eyed stranger. You swallowed biting you lip thoughts of finishing updating your records now gone as you scanned Hanks profile and a small smile crossed your face.

Hank, 37, works in the film industry. Blue eyes, 6ft, muscular.

Decided to finally try this online dating, unsure what to say other then I'm looking for a life partner. I like to think I'm funny and laid back. I'm fit and active but that doesn't mean you have to be, but maybe my lady could come for walks with me and my four legged son? I promise he's my best freind and a good boy.

My job is tough and I'm away for long periods of time, but when I'm home I like to play games and am into warcraft. I paint miniatures when I can. Fantasy and superheroes are a big part of my hobbies so if you don't like all things geek then I'm probably not for you.

But if they are? Then feel free to message me, I will reply when I can.

You read and re-read the profile And your hands hovered over your chicklet keyboard. Biting your lip, do you respond? He seemed sweet and real... if that made sense. You took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen? Asking for a plane ticket? You decided to take a chance and typed back a reply hitting send whilst you had your nerve and then flushed.

"And they say fluffy dogs only lure in women~" You giggled to yourself moving a hand over the huge fluffy girl beside you giving her pets whislt thinking of a reply.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #rpf #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill imagine

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Note

Hi there, congrats for the 1500 subs. How about the bros reaction to an MC who's an empath?

Brothers with an MC Who is an Empath

This should not have been as hard as it was but maaan, my brain just wasn’t working. Finally got it done though!

Intro:

An Empath is essentially someone who is highly sensitive to outside stimuli like sounds, personalities, energies, emotions, or just hectic/chaotic environments. They tend to absorb the emotions of others into themselves because of this. Though their sensitivity can grant deeper understanding for others, it comes at the price of the Empath’s own emotional and physical health if not given enough time to decompress which can lead to feeling drained, irritable, depressed, or overwhelmed.

Lucifer

Oh boy, if there was ever any demon not in tune to his own emotions…

He started out legitimately not knowing what an "empath" was and frankly he didn't care to know. His main concern was just keeping the MC alive.

Though that didn't seem to be too hard because they apparently get tired quickly… or at least they had to take extended periods away from most of his brothers.

He wasn't sure why, he first assumed it was because they found his brothers annoying but that didn't seem to be the case either...

He'd see them grinning with Mammon after a jackpot, relaxing with Satan in silence, and even crying with Levi over things so niche and pointless he couldn’t imagine that they actually cared...

It wasn’t too long until they set their sights on him.

They always seemed to know when he was stressed or when he needed to talk to someone. He'd even be embarrassed to admit there were days when he’d just hover somewhat close to them, face more or less slathered with "I really need to talk right now" but too proud to make the first move.

After some time, he decided to look up what an empath was again and it all clicked into place. They probably knew when he was tired because they could just sense it off of him.

And who knows how exhausting that must be for them...

After that little revelation he actually started paying more attention to his own health to keep it from spilling over to them, but he would still go to them to talk from time to time. He honestly never expected a human to become his closest confidant.

Mammon

Mammon has BIG energy. He’s one of those personalities that just brightens a room he walks in but damn… if he’s not a little exhausting to be around sometimes…

Truthfully, he was kind of into their whole “I know how you feel so you don’t have to say it” vibe though it was really confusing to start with...

On the one hand, they never made fun of him for his sensitive side. Not once. And they seemed pick up on the days where he wasn't feeling his best as well, which only made him happy and want spend more time with them.

But on the other hand, he'd be lying if he said that their need to recharge away from him didn't catch him off guard a lot... Hell, for the first few weeks of getting to know the MC he thought they didn't like him at all!

It took the MC sitting him down and explaining to him that they're more sensitive to things like lights, sounds, and emotions for him to kind of get the picture. It wasn’t that they didn’t like him, they just needed to be somewhere calm.

Cue a lot of “Okay human, I’ll be calm. Promise! Ya won’t even now I’m here!” in a well meaning, but pretty loud voice and not getting much better from there, bless his heart...

Even after he eventually gets the picture and stops hanging off of their leg, it does bum him out to be separated for however long it takes for them to get better (at worst, it can be days).

But he really gets excited like a puppy whenever they finally come back again! Big grins and lots of hugs (good luck peeling him off now).

Levi

Levi is... best taken in short bursts.

Though his personality isn’t big like Mammon’s, he does have a lot of lingering negativity around him. Not exactly his fault, being Envy and all, but not great for someone who’s sensitive to emotions.

In truth, Levi genuinely loves being around the MC because they “get” him even if they don’t get what’s happening.

While his brothers may roll their eyes or struggle to understand how he can put so much emotional investment into an anime or a character, the MC would always seem to feel and respect that his emotions were genuine and let him experience them without question.

… But at the same time, that sensitivity meant that they got carried in with him through his every emotion, good, bad, or somewhat erratic depending on the situation…

Add to that his higher than usual need for validation, investment, and feedback due to his insecurity and unfortunately he’s easily the most emotionally draining person in the House...

It took some time to explain to Levi what an empath was and that their desired space wasn’t because there was something wrong with him or anything, they just needed breaks. Thankfully, being an introvert himself meant that Levi understood this a lot quicker than Mammon.

In truth, being with Levi could be fun and rewarding for both parties. During his high points, his happiness truly does shine like no other, just… don’t overdo it.

Satan

In the beginning, Satan was honestly pretty impressed how quickly the exchange student saw through his fake smiles. They’d know that there was no actual joy behind them and thus avoided him for the most part.

This was before they formed their pact so he was perfectly fine with that. Let them hide, that’s the smart idea.

But after getting to know them and going through the body-switch, he started to see that it was deeper than just some good intuition on their part. Something about them… reflected the people around them...

They appeared to be acutely aware of the emotion in a given person or a given room and reacted like they were soaking in the atmosphere they found themselves in. Taking it into themselves…

It truly confused him.

Satan is the picture of emotional control, it’s been taught to him again and again to always keep a good handle on himself because things go flying when he doesn’t. The idea of being so open to others just didn’t make much sense to him…

Why would anyone want to live so dependent on the emotions of others? It sounded chaotic just to hear about it...

But after he opened up to them about his own inner doubts he started to think it wasn’t such a bad thing. They appeared to be equipped to help him navigate his own emotions, especially the new ones he didn’t have the best grasp on yet.

He later did his own research into human emotions, discovered empaths, and that put it all into perspective. Like Lucifer, he did his best not to overwhelm them after that but there was little worry about that anyway. Satan is, again, emotional control at its finest.

Asmodeus

Oh, Asmo picked up on their human’s little quirk relatively quickly compared to his brothers. Being emotionally observant is just part of what makes him so good at what he does.

Honestly, he enjoyed just watching them from afar… Watching the way their eyes lit up when talking to a cheerful Simeon or how huffy and frustrated they’d get along with Mammon when things weren’t going his way. It was cute to him, like a child playing “Pretend.”

Eventually, though, he started to notice that it went a lot deeper than mere imitation...

One day, Levi came home distraught about the tragic death of some voice actor he fancied and the MC was right along with him, crying as if that loss was theirs...

On another, Satan had spent the whole day silently fuming and the MC was a complete wreck, tense and on-edge for no other reason than the feeling of aggression in the air…

And crowds… crowded rooms seemed to be the death of them. So much noise and constant input, they’d have to leave so quickly…

Asmo saw all these things himself, without having to be told, and he became a refuge for them when things became too much. He has a big personality himself, but he could tone it down for a time and offer them a place away for a while.

If school, parties, or the brothers themselves just became too much, the MC could always go to Asmo’s room to vent like they let everybody else to with them. He’d keep the place quiet and calm and just help them sort things out...

Thank their father for Asmo’s observance.

Beelzebub

Legit the calmest, sweetest, nicest person to be around. Truly the best companion for an empathic MC to have.

Beel’s personality is positive, sweet, and (most importantly) stable. He’s not too bombastic nor too withdrawn, he’s not riddled with hidden stress or self-loathing, and he’s not even manipulative in any way, he’s just… Beel.

Am I saying that Beel is the MC’s emotional support demon? Yes. Yes I am.

Being around Beel is like hooking them up to a walking battery recharging station. Something about him just exudes warmth and comfort… They could be wrapped up in his arms for days and never say a word yet still be perfectly content...

Beel doesn't really mind them coming to him when distressed either because he likes being able to help them when they’re feeling drained. It makes him feel kind of special, they don’t seem to go to anyone else in quite the same way.

Usually, one of his brothers will be in a bad mood and the human will flock to Beel like a protective barrier. They'll hug him or trail along behind him like a lost puppy, which he thinks is very cute.

If they’re feeling really out of it, he’d carry them around on his back while they rest like he does for Belphie sometimes. Any time his brothers try to get too close to them or look like they’re going to bother them, he’ll just carry them away to some place quieter.

Though, the MC did pick up the deep sadness he felt for Lilith and Belphie (while he was gone) from time to time.... Which, considering how kind and comforting he usually is, just makes that dip in mood all the more painful and distressing for them. Poor baby…

Belphegor

Belphie is another calm personality to have around, kind of similar to Beel, but since he's more prone to sadness and irritability he doesn't make the best companion…

If Beel is comfort, then Belphie is repose. Relaxed and peaceful, but also languid and sluggish… When Beel isn't around, then he makes a decent second, but only on good days.

Belphie has a mixed opinion on their uncanny ability to pick up on his feelings… He tries his best to be “mysterious” so having someone who can read him like a book gets under his skin just a little…

But he also really likes how much it helps them get to know him and understand where he’s coming from (being the youngest, he isn’t as used to being heard by anybody other than Beel). So, he’s very conflicted…

It didn’t help at all when it came to light that the MC could legitimately tell that he felt very hostile and angry towards them while he was still in the attic. When he asked why they helped him anyway, they told him so that they could make Beel happy again, regardless of how he felt about them which... ouch...

As if he could feel any worse about that particular incident… They could feel how guilty he was about that… right?

Even if they can’t he makes sure that they know that he’s sorry and he won’t do it again. Probably the lil’shit.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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shatouto · 3 years

Text

bare his neck on the execution block

[gen fic, 2.5k. obi-wan and anakin discusses ahsoka’s apprenticeship early on. vent fic + character study, sort of. read on ao3]

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

Obi-Wan glances up. Anakin has uttered those words so quietly, so unlike his usual tone of voice when he is upset in some ways. There is none of that off-kilter lilt of minor irritation, nor the somber reverberation of suppressed but boiling rage in his voice. He sounds… defeated, the resignment almost nothing like Obi-Wan has heard before – and that is saying something, considering the ten-odd years they have broken bread and shared quarters and matched blades. Concern sinking coldly in his stomach, he stands up, paces over and settles beside his former apprentice, setting a hand on Anakin’s back in a tentative offer of comfort.

Anakin doesn’t really respond, just slumps lower, his forehead propped against his fingers, his face hidden behind his hands. Obi-Wan keeps his frown to himself, merely brushing his hand up and down Anakin’s back. He has a thousand guesses as to what Anakin means exactly, and no less than nine hundred of them would pertain to this grueling war that has covered their life in a grey pall. But assumptions are the enemy of comprehension; one who speculates will judge instead of listening at all, whereas Obi-Wan strives to be a good listener first and foremost. So he merely asks, “Would you like to talk about it, Anakin?”

Anakin lets out a slightly shuddery sigh. Obi-Wan studies him for another few moments of a silence that is not quite tense, just somewhat suffocating, like the humid air before a rainstorm. His eyes wander from the guarded curve of Anakin’s shoulders to the exhausted slouch of Anakin’s back. Between the back armor plate and ringlets of baby hair at the base of his skull, a pale strip of skin is exposed where his neck slopes like a prisoner bowing over the execution block. Obi-Wan shudders and pushes the intrusive macabre image all the way down to the bottom of his mind. He must focus on the here and now, especially the irregular pulses that spread from Anakin’s signature into the fabric of the Force around him like the throb of a dull ache.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin trails off just as he begins, but the fact that he opened up at all is already a relief. Obi-Wan says nothing, only brings his hand up to cover Anakin’s nape, giving it a grounding squeeze, in a way shielding it from the phantom blade that still haunts his mind’s eye. A minuscule intake of breath – too sharp, too much like the ghost of a sob for Obi-Wan’s liking – preludes Anakin’s wavering voice.

“I can’t—can’t train her, Master.”

Obi-Wan blinks, brows shooting up in surprise. Anakin and his own Padawan haven’t had the easiest of beginnings – what with Yoda’s doublespeak orders that led to misunderstandings and unpleasant surprises on the part of young Master and Padawan both – but Obi-Wan was almost sure that they have smoothed things out between them since. He doesn’t doubt Anakin’s care for his apprentice and Ahsoka’s respect for him likewise.

“I was under the impression that Ahsoka has been making great progress under your tutelage,” Obi-Wan says in a hushed tone, tilting his head down a little, not to force eye contact with Anakin but simply to suggest Anakin to turn to him. “What makes you say so?”

“Everything,” Anakin grits out at once, his voice taking on a watery edge. He slumps down lower, full on burying his face in his hands now, and Obi-Wan’s heart twists. “She’s been making progress because she’s just that good, Master. I didn’t do anything… She’s already trained in the reverse grip before I even taught her anything, remember?” Anakin gives a brittle laugh, breathless and humorless and fooling no one, least of all himself.

Obi-Wan bites the inside of his lips, his forehead creasing deeply in frowns as he shifts closer and slides his arm around Anakin’s shoulders in reassurance. “Lightsaber techniques are not nearly everything about being a Jedi, and you know it, Anakin. She needs a Master—”

“Then I’m not what she needs! I’m not a Master!” Anakin’s voice climbs to a near-cry. He takes in a shaky, stuttery breath and suddenly turns towards Obi-Wan, his eyes red-rimmed and downcast, a miserable frown etched into the downturned corners of his mouth. “I can’t pretend to be one anymore. I can’t take this anymore!”

Anakin’s pain pierces through his word and lodges into Obi-Wan’s heart as well. “Anakin…”

“There’s so much to do. I have to lead my battalion, I—I have to fight this war. We all have to, but I… I don’t know! I can’t do so many things at once! I can’t do right by her like this,” Anakin continues, sniffling, his flesh hand clawing into his gloved one so hard that his fingers blanch from the pressure. “I’m just—I just got Knighted this year, I don’t know anything about this. Aayla is even older than me. Why did <i>I</i> have to be the one to take on a Padawan? What, am I the only Knight in the Order who’s available to take an apprentice? I don’t get it. Anybody could have taught her better than I do.”

“Anakin, that isn’t true—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Anakin unceremoniously cuts him off, his voice dripping with dismissal and disdain – at himself. He glares up and flinches back as soon as he meets Obi-Wan’s eyes as though only realizing then what he has been trying to hide. His gaze immediately drops, but by then Obi-Wan already saw the furious tears in his eyes. “Don’t lie just to reassure me,” Anakin mutters, roughly dragging his hand over his eyes. “Anybody else would’ve been better for her. You know that, the Council knows that, Ahsoka knows that.”

Anakin droops completely, and Obi-Wan finds it somehow both relieving and alarming that Anakin isn’t pushing off. Anakin’s need for comfort – physical comfort, especially – is nearly always at war with Anakin’s need to prove himself capable of handling everything on his own. This certainly isn’t unique to him; what is unique to him is the intense manner in which he feels, no less aggravated by the expectations that he carries on his shoulder and his incredible attunement to the Force. This is not the first time Anakin has broken down in tears from the stress of it all – his words, in fact, distinctly remind Obi-Wan of that one occasion, years ago, where he begged Obi-Wan to quiet the noise in his mind and take away the burden of being the Chosen One – but the pain it brings to Obi-Wan’s chest is the same.

“I’m sorry, Padawan mine,” Obi-Wan murmurs, squeezing Anakin lightly. He regrets making light of it when it turned out that Ahsoka was to be assigned to Anakin instead of him, to the young Knight’s surprise. He regrets taking it for granted that Anakin would just find a way to get along with this fourteen-year-old Padawan – an adolescent chock in the middle of her rebellious years and prone to challenging any authority, especially the one closest to her, the most insecure and inexperienced figure of authority, the easiest one to snip and quip at. At least when he took on Anakin as a Padawan himself, Anakin was only nine – unsure and outright frightful of his new life, but sweet and earnest – which allowed Obi-Wan a period of respite before the boy’s childish idolatry turned into a teenager’s testiness and brooding.

It’s easy to see Anakin as older than the nineteen-year-old he is; easy to believe him as capable and competent as he tries to prove himself to be; easy to consider him as bearing the full responsibility of a Jedi Knight and more, for being a prodigy, for having accomplished what he had. It’s much harder – and much more painful, especially for him who loves Anakin so – to dwell over and over on the fact that Anakin struggles in ways that one can neither fathom nor help with. There are burdens Anakin cannot share with him, phantom blades that will hurt Anakin only even if Obi-Wan volunteers to bare his neck on the execution block in his stead.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I did not know you were suffering. I should have stood up for you – and I would, had you objected the apprenticeship.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing up and down Anakin’s arm in soothing motions. “Why did you not say anything?”

Anakin leans limply against him, the remaining tension in his body suggesting exhaustion rather than relaxation. Obi-Wan simply holds up that weight with his own. He has always thought of it this way: if he cannot bear his former Padawan’s burden for or with him, then the least he could do is to provide shelter, absorb his hurt, cushion his fall. He would embrace Anakin’s fire with both arms until all the stars in the universe have burned out, and even then.

“I didn’t want to,” Anakin shudders out the words, turning and hiding his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder like he’s a Padawan again and Obi-Wan welcomes the gesture like ocean waves cradling the setting sun. Anakin often hid in closets or even cracks in the wall as a child – until he apparently discovered that the safest hiding place in the universe was where he could tuck his head under his Master's chin and let himself be covered by Obi-Wan's great billowing sleeves. “Didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d feel rejected,” Anakin mumbles. “And… I don’t know. It felt like a mission – being her Master, I mean. I don’t—I don’t want to refuse a mission.”

“Anakin, you…” Obi-Wan lays his cheek atop Anakin’s head, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment in frustration at himself. Inane question, Kenobi. Of course he would not even try to say no to the Grandmaster’s order. This is not the time to think about who to blame, yet Obi-Wan cannot help feeling immediately at fault. He knows and has always known Anakin to be this way, ruled by not only pride but a deep-seated fear of being seen as anything less than utterly competent and fearless. He knows better than most, and so he should have known better. Of all people, he should have been the one to check on Anakin, discuss his feelings with him, speak up for him.

And how hard must it have been? How hard was it to earn the respect of someone barely five years your junior? How hard was it to assert your authority over someone you would rather just be a good friend to, just because you need to prove yourself to the authority above you? How hard was it to do all of that while trying to grow into the too-large mantle of General of the Republic, at the age of nineteen?

“Forgive me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, shattering inside out – from guilt and in empathy. “You are not wrong – it was a difficult and awkward situation you were in. I’m truly sorry. I wish I had come to your aid sooner.”

“I feel like I never got to be a Knight,” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, his voice nasal and dangerously close to cracking. The confession is a bolt to Obi-Wan’s heart. It was how he’d felt as well, when he took Anakin under his wing immediately after his hasty graduation that followed Qui-Gon’s death. But at least it was a choice he made himself – a choice he doesn’t at all regret, looking back. He can say so with surety and fondness. Can Anakin even say so about his own apprentice? Anakin didn’t have any say in the matter to begin with. Even if he has grown close to Ahsoka, he is clearly tormented by the responsibilities that have been thrust upon him.

“It’s not like I don’t like her,” Anakin adds all of a sudden, shuffling up a little bit, clearly disquieted by Obi-Wan’s pensive silence. “She’s brilliant, I just… I’m going to fail her. I know I will. I’m not you. I wouldn’t have been able to do this even if I were twenty-five and she was nine.”

“Anakin, no,” Obi-Wan firmly hushes, frowning. Comparisons hurt. A comparison without context can poison self-perception like nothing else. He wraps his arms tighter around Anakin. “Please do not say such things. We are different – because we are different people. Look—Can you look at me, Padawan?”

He cradles Anakin’s face, and Anakin looks up through matted, darkened lashes, slightly biting down on his lower lip. With a tone as gentle as he can possibly muster, Obi-Wan speaks.

“If you’re thinking you aren’t capable of being a Master, or a good Master, then I assure you that isn’t true. I have seen your capacity for teaching, both in your methods and the results thereof. You have made progress just as Ahsoka did. I have faith in you, Anakin. However”—Obi-Wan absentmindedly wipes half a droplet of tear at the corner of Anakin’s scarred eye with the pad of his thumb—“what matters is whether you want to continue this apprenticeship. You are capable, but being capable of doing something doesn’t necessarily mean you have to force yourself to do it. Do you understand?”

Anakin watches him with a wariness that has Obi-Wan’s heart aching almost physically. It pains him so, when Anakin feels the need to tread carefully when speaking to him; he’d rather Anakin balk and brag and act brash than this. “I do, Obi-Wan,” Anakin utters syllable by syllable, chewing on his lip. “I just—don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

His voice is rough and fragile at the same time, tearing at the raw edges like a gauze that Obi-Wan wishes he could singlehandedly hem. Anakin looks drained, with circles under his eyes that suggest he would’ve looked ashen if it wasn’t for the flush of fury and frustration from earlier, and puffed-up eyelids that look ready to shut for the rest of the day. Obi-Wan holds back a sigh and brushes Anakin’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“That’s alright, Padawan mine,” he says, prompting Anakin to draw closer to him with a light touch. Thankfully, Anakin does, and finally wraps his arms around Obi-Wan in a returning embrace this time. “That’s quite alright. You don’t have to decide everything right now. You can take your time and rest – you’ve done enough.”

Anakin lets out a sigh so deep that Obi-Wan can physically feel the way his chest constricts against his own body. He wraps Anakin’s signature with his presence in the Force, lighting up candle after candle in the gloomy aftermath of the hurricane. Anakin shudders, and whispers. “Thank you, Master.”

“Anytime, dear one,” Obi-Wan says against the crown of his head, softly stroking his hair. “I’m here. I’ll be here.” And I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. Here I am and here I shall remain, be it to hold up the night sky before it crumbles in your chest or patch up the stars that burn and bleed from invisible blades. I will, until the day I cannot do it any longer.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #shatou writes #star wars prequels #canon is indeed questionable don’t you think

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desertno3 · 4 years

Text

everything comes back to you (sean wallace x fem!reader)

Sean Wallace is the love of your life and had been ever since you were both sixteen. This is why, in the aftermath of his father’s murder, you do everything you can to make sure no one lays a hand him.

5.4k words.

A/N: To think this all came from me watching this scene of Joe from Volume (2012) and thought… I need to write about bb Sean. There’s also this post which is mostly what was in my head when I wrote this. Also, I was going to say Sean being soft around the people he loves is my own personal headcanon but like… it is actual canon, lmao. It’s so easy to forget because the man is cold most of the time. Anyway, I clearly have too many thoughts about this character. Enjoy. (also formatting on tumblr is shit so if you want to read this with the formatting I intended, head over here to AO3)

prologue.

“What the hell are you up to?” Sean demands as he watches you bustle around your shared bedroom, effectively turning it upside down as you stuff your belongings into a travel bag.

“Business,” You say, hardly pausing to look at him.

“Business?” He scoffs like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame him. Finn died mere days ago and every day since then you’d been acting strange. Between consoling Sean and helping the Wallace family with the funeral arrangements, you’d been answering calls at random hours of the day and going off to meetings even though nearly all business operations under the Wallace Corporation had been halted. Sean had been too caught up in everything to question it but now that you’d just told him that you were flying off to god knows where for alleged business, he was suspicious.

“You know something, don’t you?”

You don’t reply.

“Tell me.”

When you remain silent, you see his jaw clench in anger but that’s not what makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. What gets to you is the hurt you can see in his eyes, hurt that his fiancé of all people is keeping things from him. You know it’s unfair to be doing this to him right now but you had no choice.

You walk up to him, taking his face in your hands.

“You just have to trust me on this, Sean,” You say softly. “Please.”

“I can’t trust anyone right now, y/n.” He says it like a plea. He needs you to be the one person he can trust one hundred percent, wants to be able to put you apart from the rest of the world who seemingly had it out for his family right now. He can’t do that when you’re acting like this.

The statement doesn’t hurt you in the slightest. You understand where he’s coming from, understand why he can’t even trust you, but still, you wish he did.

“You can always trust me,” You tell him but you know it won’t be enough. That’s confirmed when his gaze goes steely and he pries your hands from his cheeks.

“If you step out that door, don’t bother coming home.”

You step back like you’d been burned by the ultimatum. “Sean, don’t-”

He shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

_________________________________________________

one.

“It’s just so annoying, you know?” You huff, falling back onto Sean’s bed and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. You’re sixteen and in the throes of teen angst, irritated by the confines of your parents’ demands regarding what you currently could and couldn’t do at that age.

“Yeah, I know,” Sean replies in solidarity from where he stands near the window.

You let out a sigh, the anger that was bubbling in your chest starting to dissipate now that you’d finished venting about it.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realise Sean has moved from his spot across the room to the bed beside you. The mattress dips a little as he sits and slowly lies back so he’s parallel to you.

You move your hands away from your eyes and your heart jolts when you crane your neck to look at him and realise how close he is.

“Thanks for listening to my ranting,” You murmur, starting to feel guilty that you’d come over to hang out only for it to end up being just him listening to your tirade.

He lets out a small chuckle. “Anytime.”

You smile gratefully, your heart rate accelerating as you continue to stare into his eyes. God, you like him so much. You have for a while now. As he inches closer, and you don’t know whether it’s deliberate on his part or not, you wonder what it would be like if you just kissed him right there.

“Y/n…” He says hesitantly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second. “Can I-”

“Ooooh, Sean and y/n,” Billy sing-songs obnoxiously from the doorway - the doorway that both you and Sean had forgotten was wide open.

Sean leaps up from the bed and growls at his brother, who continues to tease him unfazed.

“Fuck off, Billy!”

He slams the door shut and everything descends into silence once more. You sit up and watch as Sean remains at the door, his shoulders tense. You get up and make your way over to him, feeling bolder than you ever have in your life.

“Sean,” You say softly, grabbing his attention.

He turns to you, the look in his eyes hesitant, and you use that opportunity to press your lips to his. You pull away just as quickly, gauging his reaction, but then he pulls you towards him again and this time the kiss is deeper, needier. Your hands steady yourself against his chest as his own move up to cup your jaw.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, sporting matching shy smiles as you look at each other.

“I really like you, y/n,” Sean confesses and your heart feels like it could burst.

“I really like you, too, Sean.”

When you and Sean get accepted into different universities, it worries you more than you let on. It would be the furthest away you’d ever lived from him and you were worried about what that meant for you both. You’d spent your last years of high school falling deeper and deeper in love with him and you weren’t ready to let him go. Not now, not ever.

“Hey,” He murmurs, noticing you’d spaced out again. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug it off but he’s not buying it. He shifts on the couch so that he’s sitting facing you and takes your hands in his.

"Talk to me.”

You end up telling him everything. How you don’t like that you’re not going to be able to see him as often as you do now, how you’re worried that the distance might put a strain on the relationship, how you really, really don’t like the idea of breaking up with him.

You half expect him to brush it off or to tell you that you’ve got nothing to worry about but he doesn’t.

“I don’t like it either,” He admits. “It’s going to be awful being so far away from you but it’s only a couple of years, yeah? We can do that. And then I’ll start working for my dad and you’ll start working for some cool startup and we can move into a flat in London. You and me.”

While your boyfriend’s vision of your future together warms your heart, you’re still hung up on the ‘couple of years’ you were going to be a good distance from each other.

“Babe,” He says, bringing your attention back to him. “We’re going to be okay.”

You nod, finally relenting and agreeing with him. There was no point in letting yourself get eaten alive with worry, not when he clearly loved you just as much as you loved him. It was going to be okay.

“I love you,” You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I love you too.”

Sean’s vision of the future wasn’t too far off. You manage to secure a flat just before you both graduate and by the end of the summer, you’d moved in. Sean starts working immediately alongside Alex at the Wallace Corporation and you spend about eight months working for a new tech startup on the other side of London before Finn Wallace offers you a job. It goes over with Sean just as well as you expected it would - which was not well at all.

“Are you really going to throw away everything you’ve worked hard for? To be my dad’s fucking assistant?”

You sigh in exasperation. “I’m not throwing away anything, Sean! Do you think I’m that stupid? I’m going to use more of what I learned at uni as Finn’s assistant than I am now at that fucking sad excuse for startup and you know it!”

Sean knows you’re miserable where you currently work so you don’t know why he’s so against this.

“You don’t want me working with you, is that it?”

He sighs, palms pressing against his eyelids in frustration.

“No,” He says eventually. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t want my dad having a hold on the both of us. You’re supposed to be free from all the Wallace Corporation shit, out doing your own thing.”

Oh.

You step towards him and he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist. You press a light kiss to his lips, your fingers ghosting over the facial hair he had recently started sporting.

“Sorry to tell you this, Sean, but your dad’s had a hold on the both of us the moment we started dating. Maybe even before that. I’m sure if he didn’t approve of me, I would’ve been out of your life a long time ago.”

Sean grumbles at the realisation but he knows it's true.

You lovingly run your thumb over his cheek. "Nothing in London is out of Finn Wallace's reach."

You’re not a fool. You know Finn offered you this job for a very specific reason. If you were going to continue being with Sean, and at this point, everyone knew that was absolutely going to be the case, you were going to have to know how the company worked. And you weren’t against it. If Sean was to be the CEO one day, you refused to be the kind of wife who was oblivious to their husband’s dealings.

Gone is the youthful innocence of the lanky boy you fell in love with when you were sixteen. Sean is filled out and a lot more serious, trying to be more than what he is for his father’s sake. You suppose you're the same, too. It's not easy, being primed to eventually take over a multi-million dollar organisation (connected to an insidious underground one to boot) and Finn put just as much pressure on you as he did his son.

“It’s not my blood,” You mumble when Sean walks into the bathroom to find you soaking in the tub, the water around you a deep red. “Mostly.”

Wordlessly, he comes over and drains it before filling it back up with fresh water. You don’t move as he does so, still shaken and borderline catatonic from having just killed somebody for the first time. Sean doesn’t have to ask, he can just tell that’s what you’ve come back from. As he silently washes the blood from your skin, you look over to see his lips set in a tight line. You know he’s mad. Not at you. At his father, maybe. But there’s nothing he can do now. There’s no going back from this.

Everyone thinks you’re the power couple of the Wallace Corporation, steely and unfeeling, and you suppose in many ways you are but you also know that in other ways, you’re still the teenagers you were before, still completely and utterly smitten with one another.

“Hey,” Sean greets you, kissing your cheek before pulling out a chair and sitting beside you in the empty boardroom.

You look at him in surprise as he starts digging into some pre-packaged salad. “Hi. What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d have lunch with you.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“The meeting ran overtime.”

You give him a sympathetic look and he rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. C’mere.”

You shuffle closer to him and let him tuck you under one arm while he forked salad into his mouth with the other.

“What have you been up to, hm?”

You let out an exhale, resting your head against his shoulder. “Meetings, same as you.”

You’re interrupted when Alex pops his head in with an apologetic look on his face, knowing he was disrupting a rare moment between you and Sean. Usually, the both of you would be so busy you’d only see each other in passing at work.

“Finn’s looking for you, y/n,” He tells you before disappearing again.

You sigh, getting up but not before kissing Sean on the cheek.

“I’ll see you at home.”

“Mm, see you.” He mumbles, swallowing his mouthful of salad before his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. “Wait, give me a proper kiss.”

You smile and comply, laughing when Sean pulls you back in for another and another.

“I have to go, Sean!”

“Alright, alright,” He says, letting you go. “I’ll see you later.”

"What's all this?" Sean asks when he comes home one night to find you in the kitchen looking like you’re in the middle of making a more elaborate dinner than usual.

"Just something to celebrate you finishing up that contract," You say, smiling when his arms circle your waist and his lips press a kiss to your cheek. "I was also thinking now that the contract's done, you've got all the time in the world to fuck me."

You all but squeal when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom without a second thought.

"The food, Sean!"

"The food can wait," He murmurs, dropping you onto the bed. You giggle when he moves to hover above you, his lips brushing against yours. "I've got to take care of my fiancé first."

It’s those memories of your relationship with Sean that flood your mind as you lean against the brick wall of a Soho back alley, the hand pressing against the wound on your side not doing much to stop the blood seeping from your body faster than you would like.

Dread had filled you the moment you heard about Finn’s death and it had less to do with what happened to him and everything to do with the man you were engaged to, the one who was set to take over the company in his father’s wake. Despite Sean being the clear successor to the business, you knew Finn’s death would still leave a power vacuum in both London’s corporate and criminal worlds. You knew people would be out for Sean, trying to off him so that they could step up and take Finn’s place. And so, since the day Finn had died, you’d done everything you could to ensure Sean wouldn’t be harmed. Even after Sean’s heartbreaking ultimatum, you’d left and had been all over the country and London trying to stop the people that needed to be stopped. This last job you’d just carried out would have been it. It would have sealed the deal and would have kept Sean safe for good. Too bad you were probably going to die because of it.

You wince as your back slides further down the wall, your legs giving out and leaving you to drop unceremoniously onto the concrete. Each inhale felt like a billion knives entering your side and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

It was worth it, you think to yourself. It’s the last thought you have before your eyelids get too heavy to keep open, Sean’s last words to you echoing back in your mind. It may have cost you your life but was worth it if it meant you’d just ensured Sean would keep his for a long while.

_________________________________________________

two.

Despite the number of people crammed into your hospital room, the only sound to be heard is the steady beeping of the machines that had been attached to you. It had been a hell of a night for all of them and one that wasn’t over yet. Jacqueline’s frantic call to Sean about seeing you get wheeled into emergency surgery had cut short the tense discussion the Wallaces and Dumanis were having around the dining table. Sean had all but sped to the hospital, everyone else trailing behind him. Despite everything that had just been revealed to him that night, it all became secondary in comparison to the fact that Jacqueline had told him you were practically dying.

Everyone but Sean looks up when Ed steps back into the room, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“That was Jevan,” Ed announces to all of them. “Things have changed.”

“What things?” Marian asks, the tone in her voice still bitter. It’s a wonder neither she nor Sean have kicked the Dumanis out of the room but it was because there was still so much to be discussed - especially now that you were back in the picture and what happened to you remained unclear.

“The investors now want to keep Sean alive.”

A silence settles over the room at Ed’s revelation. It was mere hours ago that Alex had revealed it was the investors who wanted Sean dead.

“She knew,” Sean mutters, finally speaking up. His eyes raking over your nearly-lifeless face as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed and his mind thinks back to the last conversation he had with you. Business, you had told him then. Now, he had no doubt you had something to do with the investors’ most recent decision. “She knew they wanted me dead.”

“How?” It’s Alex who asks, vocalising the same thought Sean had been turning over and over in his mind. “How did she know where to find them? Who to talk to?”

No one has an answer. The machines beep steadily, filling in the silence until Ed sighs, a realisation dawning on him.

“Finn,” He states like that alone makes the answer clear. “She would’ve known through Finn. Think about it. When she was his assistant, he made her go with him to nearly every meeting he had.”

Everyone in the room was aware of the latter, of course. It was part of your job. It had even been a point of contention between Sean and his father at one point, why you were let in on meetings that he should’ve been in on too if he was going to take over the company one day. "She’s just there to make the coffee, son," Finn had laughed but that wasn’t true in the slightest. You were the one who took down the minutes, noted down anything of importance, kept tabs on any and all of Finn’s dealings with everybody. That was your job and through it, you ended up knowing more about the business than anyone else and you didn’t even realise it. You didn’t realise just how much you knew, how much knowledge you could use as leverage, as blackmail, until Sean’s life was on the line.

After Finn died, you did wonder whether he knew what he was setting you up for when he hired you, wondered if he always knew Sean would eventually need protecting and knew that you would do it without hesitation if you had the capability to do so.

It’s Ed, here in the hospital room, who comes to the realisation that he absolutely did.

“She knows more about Finn’s dealings with the investors than all of us in this room combined,” He continues. “Because he never actually needed her to be his assistant. He needed her to be someone who would know how to talk to them. To protect the company and its successor from them if need be.”

“Successor?” Marian asks. “You mean Sean?”

Ed nods and everyone jumps as Sean suddenly throws his fist against the bedside table in anger before whirling on the older man.

“You knew about this,” He seethes. “You knew he was doing this and you just let it happen.”

“I didn’t know this was his reasoning behind it, Sean, I promise you. But it makes sense. As his son, protecting you was a priority. Through her, Finn made sure you’d be kept safe.”

"Fuck that.” Sean spits in anger. “Fuck that. She's a priority too. You hear me? She needs to be kept safe too because if she's not alive I may as well be fucking dead."

_________________________________________________

three.

“I should’ve fucking realised that’s what she was up to. I should’ve fucking known,” Sean mutters as he looks at you, still lying there unconscious. “She risked everything for me.”

“Are you surprised?” Marian asks him. It’s just the two of them in the room now.

She, for one, isn’t surprised in the slightest. Having known you most of your life, she knew you had it in you. Maybe Finn saw that too, since it was what he ended up priming you for.

Sean sighs. He’s not surprised either. What he mostly feels is anger - at his late father for putting you in that position to begin with - and shame. He’s ashamed that while you were bending over backwards to try and keep him alive, he was doing fuck all for you. He'd even broken your fucking heart in the process. He’d regretted it the second you’d left the flat but he couldn’t get into contact with you afterwards. Either you’d changed your number or you weren’t answering his calls. He’d even hired a fucking private investigator to find out where you’d gone and what you were up to but they hadn’t come back with anything solid enough that could lead him to you. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

"She paid you off,” Sean says bluntly the moment the PI enters the hospital room. It’s not a question. After everything that had surfaced in the last twenty-four hours, it clicked into Sean’s mind the reason the private investigator couldn’t find anything on you.

"She did,” They confirm.

Sean swears under his breath. He curses that fact that you were too good at this and curses the fact that it was probably Finn that taught you how, the same way Finn taught him. He should’ve fought harder to stop you from accepting his dad’s job offer. All those years ago.

“She paid me off,” The PI says. "But that doesn’t mean I didn't do my job."

Sean is handed a folder full of notes on your movements and a flash drive full of photos they’d snapped from a distance.

"You are a very lucky man, Sean Wallace. To have someone like her in your life."

_________________________________________________

four.

To say you’re surprised when you open your eyes to a sterile hospital room is an understatement. You were so sure you had no chance of getting out of that alley alive. Still groggy, you briefly wonder if it was the investors who managed to get you here in time - the strange puppet masters that they were - but your train of thought is halted when you realise Sean’s sister is in the room with you, sitting beside your hospital bed.

“About time you woke up,” Jacqueline says softly, a kind smile on her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Her question brings your attention to the relentless ache you feel all over your body.

“Like shit.”

She hums. “Well, you’re lucky you aren’t dead. You gave us all a scare getting wheeled in here the way you did.”

You shift a little, trying to get yourself in a position that would ease the pain somewhat. “How’s Sean?”

Jacqueline has to stop herself from rolling her eyes because of course that’s what’s on your mind right now. You coming back from the verge of death asking about Sean ran in a similar vein to the way Sean had been adamant about not leaving the hospital since you’d been admitted. Like two peas in a pod, she thinks. Always have been.

“He’s just out in the hall, actually,” She informs you. “On the phone to mum. He’s not going to be pleased he wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“But he’s okay?” You ask her.

“He’s okay.”

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, your head sinking further into the pillow.

“Good,” You say, shutting your eyes in relief. “That’s good.”

Only a few seconds pass before you hear the door open and shut and a heart-achingly familiar voice break the silence.

“How is she?”

Again, Jacqueline has to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Her brother would always ask that same question every time he returned to the room, no matter if he was gone for an hour or for just a couple of minutes. At least this time, she was glad to give him an answer other than ‘she’s the same as she was when you left’.

“She’s awake.”

Your eyelids flutter open and your heart jumps when your gaze lands on Sean.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Jacqueline smiles when she looks between her brother and yourself. She comes over and rests her hand on yours. “I’m really glad you’re alive, y/n.”

You give her a grateful smile and watch her leave before your eyes flicker back to the man standing at the door. He looks healthy, you note to yourself. Exhausted, but healthy.

“Sean,” You whisper, breaking the silence.

“Hey,” He says softly, approaching your bedside. You slowly sit up and tears start to pool in your eyes at the sight of him here, so close to you. Safe and alive. He notices and reaches out to wipe away the stray tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” He murmurs and you have to hold back a sob.

"I did it for you, Sean," You can barely get the sentence out, your voice catching as you start to get choked up by emotion. "Everything I did-"

"I know," He says, cupping your face tenderly. His eyes are glassy too. "I know."

“I couldn’t let them hurt you. I couldn’t-”

You stop as your tears start to flow uncontrollably. You’d kept so much of your emotions at bay as you dealt with everything and now that it was all done, they were spilling over in waves. He gently pulls you into his embrace as you cry, mindful of your injuries. One hand strokes your hair comfortingly as you cling to him, soaking the front of his shirt with your tears. You keep muttering apologies into his chest and he has to tell you to stop because you have nothing to be sorry for. He should be the one apologising, he thinks. No matter what he does for you for the rest of his life nothing would come close enough in magnitude to what you’d just done for him.

You sniffle as your sobs finally start to subside but you don’t let go of him just yet.

“I want to come home, Sean,” You say quietly, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

“You are home,” He assures you, his arms affectionately squeezing you ever so slightly. "You're here with me. You're already home."

_________________________________________________

epilogue.

Sean barely leaves your side while you recover - not for business, not for anything.

“The company needs you, Sean.”

He shakes his head. “Alex has it covered. You need me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Believe me, I know. But still. In sickness and in health, right?”

You snort. “We’re not married yet.”

His arms wrap around your waist.

“But we will be,” He murmurs. “I would’ve married you a long time ago if I had it my way.”

“My mother would’ve murdered you.”

Sean chuckles, all too aware of it.

It was about a year and a half into your university lives that Sean decided he genuinely wanted to marry you and, of course, he had run it by your mother.

“I’ll give you my blessing, Sean,” She had told him. “But only if you promise me you’ll give it a few years until you propose.”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” She said after Sean had frowned and asked her why. “I know you love her and I know she loves you but there’s no need to rush.”

Sean had agreed reluctantly but now, years later, he understands where she was coming from. At the time, he had naively been sure there was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle. You’d both handled being at different universities so well, after all. Now, he cringes at the fact that that was his metric but he figures he couldn’t blame himself. At that age, he definitely never anticipated having to deal with all the shit life had thrown at you both in the last few months alone. He’s somewhat grateful your mum told him to wait because now, after everything, he’s more sure than he ever was about the fact that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

You’re finally back home, in your own bed, lying on your back because it’s the only comfortable way you can lay down with all your stitches and injuries yet to fully heal. You turn your head to look at Sean and you smile. He’s on his back as well, the both of you craning your necks awkwardly to look at each other.

“What?” He asks.

“This is very familiar.”

He snorts, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you.

“At least this time I’m not scared to do this.”

Your eyelids flutter close as he leans down to press his lips to yours. You reciprocate, leaning up to deepen the kiss before pain shoots up your side, making you hiss.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, pulling away.

“It’s fine, just the stitches.”

His thumb grazes over your cheek. “Rest.”

He smiles at the way you huff. You never did like staying still.

You let out a content sigh, sinking back in your office chair. It had felt like a lifetime since you’d been in here and finally being back felt like you were putting in the final piece in the puzzle. It was the last thing you needed to feel like everything was starting to go back to normal.

A knock on the door grabs your attention, Sean popping in to check on you. “You ready?”

You nod, gingerly getting up and following him to the boardroom for the family meeting.

“So you know Alex and I have been talking,” Sean says to you once everyone had filed in and taken their seats. “About what will be best for the business going forward.”

You nod.

“Things have settled down and we’ve managed to broker temporary agreements with everyone to keep them in line. However, we need to guarantee they won’t act out in the future. So we need someone heading the company who they will listen to, someone who they trust. Alex wants to continue doing the finances and I’m better off sticking to making the buildings so… we were wondering if you would be the CEO.”

Your expression goes slack in shock. “What?”

“We’ve run it by Ed and mum and they agree, too. You’re our best bet.”

You look between everyone in the room, bewildered. “Why?”

“Because you know more about dealing with the investors and shareholders than any of us,” Alex says. “You saw first-hand how Finn did his business with them, something me and Sean rarely did. And they not only know you personally but they trust you, too.”

“Y/n,” Ed pipes up. “Whether he did it deliberately or not, Finn taught you everything he knew about the most important part of running this corporation. Alex knows finance and sales, Sean knows property and asset management but you? He specifically taught you how to bargain. And bargaining and making deals is part of what keeps the Wallace Corporation on top.”

“All our shareholders, the investors, they’ll be okay with this?” You ask.

Ed gives you a look, “You tell us.”

The weight of the responsibility hits you in full force but you’re surprised when you don’t feel scared. You feel sure. They were all right, you’d been doing this already.

You nod. “They will be.”

And it’s not a threat so much as it’s just pure confidence on your part. You knew their strengths, their weaknesses, you knew you would be able to keep them in line with your words, either finding mutual ground or using certain things as leverage to get what the company needed. You could bargain with them the same way you’d bargained for Sean’s life. You could do this.

You meet Sean’s eyes across the boardroom table and he smiles at you, pride blooming in his chest at the thought of his girl, the one he had fallen head-over-heels for at sixteen, being the CEO of his dad’s company. You smile in return. God, you loved him. Your entire world, your whole heart, belonged to him. And his to you. It always had been, and it always would be.

_________________________________________________

End notes: The first kiss setting in one. I took straight from Volume, lol, and then two. is set after that meeting scene at the end of Episode 7 of Gangs but I’ve taken some liberties with that meeting and diverged from canon right before Ed tells them Finn never wanted Sean near the business because Sean’s reaction to that hurts my heart. So that’s not a thing in my fic world. Anyway! Too many thoughts about this show. Let me know if you enjoyed this fic!

#sean wallace x reader #gangs of london fanfiction #*writing #sean wallace #gangs of london #sean wallace fic #sean wallace imagine #gangs of london fic #sean wallace fanfic

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