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shotorozu · 3 years

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encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

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kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

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likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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toxooz · 2 years

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how do you draw such BEEF CAKES LIKE- I’ve been trying to find good tutorials and everything but none if them look as good as yours so if it’s not too much to ask how do you do you make them friend shaped I wanna make a man that doesn’t look like a stick (no offense to the stick men out there bUT PLEASE-)

i mean u can only make so many muscle tutorials out there lmfao i think i used muscle tutorials when i was just starting to draw people more but i mainly just use reference pics now, its just a matter of -yes, learning how to draw muscles, knowing what they look like and where they're placed, the muscle and fat distribution in bodies, ect- but also training your eye to know how they look under the skin and how big you want them like for instance i headass thought Ponti looked like a "muscular beefcake" when i drew him back then here, like that was my whole thing with his recolor was "im gunna recolor him AND make him beefier >:3c" but now looking back bro just had an average body lmfao maybe toned yeah but no where near beefy as opposed to now:

looking at the comparisons i think my issue was I was hesitant to add definition to the muscles and round them out more because the older version looks just flat and straight lined. I'm guessing it's because since I mostly drew skinnier mfs previously so my brain thought adding bigger muscles than that would be "too much" since my brain was so used to and "trained better" with being more acquainted with smaller bodies. ig thats why the joke abt super muscular ppl looking like literal balloon animals is a thing bc yeah thats kinda it on a minute level lmfao

same goes for Ollie like when i drew this my brain literally thought his arms were sOoo BIG even though they're just?? regular man arms?? with maybe a tad bit of definition?? because hes literally strangling somebody

now im sure Ollie has a +10000000% chance of knocking Ponti tf out with these guns lmfao

so really its just a matter of training your eye and your brain as to what exactly you consider muscular, don't be hesitant to add more definition to said muscles and give em some fat to flesh them out more. I'd say most of it is subconscious really like u dont rlly realize u made them bigger until i look back and see n think 'damn a new gym in my brain open up or somthn??' idk thats just my personal experience with it

#and once again::: use references #i dont give a damn bout those pompous little shit that preach abt ''ooOoh I dont use references 😞😞 i just ~draw~''#not a SINGLE DAMN USE THOSE REFS #long post

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slasherscream · 3 years

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Hi I don’t know if you write for Thomas Hewitt or Vincent Sinclair but if you do you could you please make some headcanons about them and the other slashers like if they got into a fight with their s/o and how it would go, what it would be about, and how they would make up with their s/o please? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to. But if you do then thank you so much!

fighting with the slashers

A/N: i do write for vincent (on a related note i also write for bo and maybe lester i haven’t tried him out yet)!

vincent sinclair

You didn’t stay put when Vincent told you to and you got hurt.

You hadn’t planned to leave. Until the sun started to go down and no one came back to the house to check up on you the way they so often do when there are visitors in town.

You are Ambrose’s second best kept secret. Alive because Vincent took one look at you and couldn’t bare to hurt you. And though Bo gripes about you he couldn’t tell Vincent no. Not when Bo saw the way Vincent held you behind him, head lowered but shoulders set, ready to actually fight him on something for once in their lives.

So you’re kept in the house when there are people around. Other than not being able to leave it’s your only real rule. Vincent wants you to have no part in the more grisly aspects of the town and Bo and Lester honor his wish.

But the town is dead silent and no one has come to check on you. Most times Lester even comes to stay with you like some sort of babysitter. It used to irritate you, despite your fondness for the youngest brother. Now without him there your hands shake, and your eyes wander, and your ears burn as if pumping extra blood there will make you hear better. But there’s nothing to be heard. No screams. No cries. No Bo shouting. No guns going off.

So you leave the house, searching for one of them. Instead you’re found by a survivor and held hostage in front of the twins.

You all stand still for a long while, the victim not knowing what to do and the boys unable to move due to the knife digging into your neck, already drawing blood.

Lester had been the one to save you, sneaking up behind your captor and stabbing them. You ran to Vincent on shaking legs and he gathered you into his arms, moving to take you back home. You could hear the screams of the man who’d almost killed you ringing through the streets behind you and shivered.

Vincent had cleaned your cut in silence and somehow had managed to barely touch you. Before you could blink he’d shut himself into his workshop and you were left alone until Bo came home and chewed you out.

You kept yourself busy cleaning and then prepared for bed, knowing it would be awhile before Vincent would come and join you. The sleep didn’t come easy as you were still shaken up, but eventually it came.

You woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and realized that if you didn’t go to get him Vincent wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

You walk drowsily through Ambrose’s underbelly, the smoldering heat not doing you any favors, until you arrive at Vincent’s workshop where he’s hunched over his desk, unmoving.

Not wanting to startle him you call his name quietly and you see his head tilt in acknowledgement but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

Slowly you move until your front is resting against his back, even slower your arms encircle him and you kiss his shoulder, feeling guilty at the tension laying dormant in them. “I’m sorry, Vince. I was just worried about you so... so I left the house. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I won’t do it again.”

He turns and there’s a pause, and then he moves his hands, fluid but slow. They’re shaking despite how strong you know they are. He tells you how he can’t lose you. How he loves you. He asks you to promise him that next time you’ll listen and you do, and you mean it.

It’s only then that he pulls you into his lap and holds you tightly. You think he’s crying behind his mask but you just hold him back equally as tight and whisper I’m sorry against his steady pulse.

pelle

He doesn’t like the company you keep.

He has a plan. He has a plan to take you away from this strange, uncaring world that doesn’t deserve you. That doesn’t love you or care about you. If he sticks to the plan everything will be so easy.

But sometimes Pelle loves you too much to bite his tongue.

He can see it clearly, your perfect future where he takes care of you, and his family takes care of you, and you let them do it, and you’re happier for it; but you don’t live in that perfect future, you live in the frigid, imperfect present.

Here you stay up late in the night to help a friend finish a term paper when last week they didn’t even call when you were sick. You gave a classmate your umbrella to borrow a month ago, and today you come back shaking from the rain because they never bothered to return it.

A thousand little kindnesses that the world outside the Hårga spit on.

He knows that all these moments of careless apathy towards you will only strengthen the draw you’ll feel when you finally meet his family.

You have the heart of a Hårga and he knows that you’ll feel that connection.

Still, the way the outside world, the way your friends and family slight you at every turn, makes his blood run hot. He’s never felt anger like this before. It is all consuming and yet he must stomach it alone.

And so his tongue is careless sometimes. He asks in tones that he shouldn’t use with you “you’re going out with them again?” and “but didn’t they-?” and still he is angry. The words do not ease the feelings because they do not fix the problem.

Pelle must lead you into the arms of his family and their way of life. He cannot push you. But he doesn’t know how not to take care of you.

He wants to beat away the leeches and moths that cling to your light and whisk you away to home where the sun will warm you with its love.

Your fights are gentle, and so you might never refer to them as fights when people ask you if you ever argue with Pelle.

There is no yelling, or balled fists, or the animal sensation of fight or flight. He leads you to sit down with him and holds your face in his hands. Unthinkingly you mimic the gesture and he smiles at you lovingly. One kiss and he tells you that he doesn’t like your friends. Another and he says that you deserve better, deserve the world.

You try to get a word in edgewise, to deny the claims he makes, to tell him that they really do care about you, but the words are smothered by his soft lips. He kisses you until your brain goes somewhere loved and numb. He slips your coat off of your shoulders and pulls you close. He keeps you there until you forget that you had anywhere to be besides his arms.

You and Pelle don’t fight.

chucky and tiffany

Tiffany is used to Chucky being a piece of shit. You are not.

Upside to fighting with Chucky is that Tiffany is immediately on your side, even if you’re in the wrong (I’m joking it’s always Chucky’s fault.)

Downside is that the whole house is now up in fucking chaos.

chucky: tiff where are my fucking keys?

tiffany: in hell! why don’t you go and grab them?

You appreciate her fighting spirit but she’s really going in on y’all’s man.

Which is not to say that Chucky doesn’t deserve it. Because he does deserve it, but you know from personal experience that being on Tiffany’s bad side is scary.

Why are you and Chucky fighting? Chucky is an insensitive asshole, and even the toughest skin isn’t bullet proof.

The aftermath of whatever Chucky did is a lot of sullen silence from you; the sounds of a knife chopping a little too loudly in the kitchen from Tiff; and loud bits of huffing and puffing from Chucky as he stomps around the house.

At first he thinks he can just wait out your anger until you start missing him. It used to work with Tiffany all the time!

But this relationship involves three people. You’re not so quick to get desperately lonely, especially if Tiffany isn’t the partner you’re fighting with. Do you miss Chucky? Sure. Do you miss him enough to let him be an asshole just to get some cuddle time in on the couch? As if! Tiffany is the better cuddler anyway.

The man child is going to have to say sorry and mean it.

Of course this means that your relationship is going be sans-Chucky for at least a week.

Tiffany reaches the breaking point before Chucky does. Obviously more in-tune with your feelings she can tell how much the fight is getting to you and no one messes with her sweetheart! Not even Chucky.

You’re going to hear her delicately clearing her throat, look up from your phone, and find Tiffany holding Chucky at fucking knife point.

tiffany: do you have anything to say, chucky?

chucky, trying to decide if he’ll let tiffany kill him just to prove a point: ....

tiffany: i’ll start with your dick-

chucky: i’m sorry! are you fucking hAPPY?!

You’re gonna be like no!!! I do not accept the apology you gave me under extreme duress! At which point you turn over in bed and pull the covers over your head.

You’ll hear rapid-fire whispering and then the bed dips behind you. A knee presses into your back, and kisses are pressed carelessly to where your head should be beneath the covers. Then, finally, the quietest “I didn’t mean it, doll.” as he pulls the blanket back in order to look at your face.

You’re stopped dead by the softness on his face. By the softness he let’s you see, even if it’s only for a moment. It might not be the words I’m sorry but it sounds like them. It sounds like an I miss you, as well.

When you drop your phone and throw your arms around his neck, touching him for the first time in a week, Chucky sighs in relief.

Not ten seconds passes before Tiffany has thrown herself over the both of you, suffocating you in her loving embrace. Just like that, balance is restored in the Lee Ray-Valentine household. For now.

#vincent sinclair x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #pelle x reader #tiffany valentine x reader x chucky #slasher x reader #charles lee ray x reader #bride of chucky #house of wax #not my first thing for vincent being sad adjifjd #the juxtaposition between vincent's part of this post and the poly tiff and chucky part??#fill.

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mettywiththenotes · 3 years

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Your Normal And My Different

I need to talk about Aoyama

Throughout 336 to 338, there is so much evidence about Aoyama being hard on himself. So hard, in fact, that even when he is told otherwise or given an explanation as to how it’s not his fault, he can’t see himself as anything other than a villain

From outright admitting it

To his father saying “It wasn’t Yuuga’s fault” and him still being stuck on how he hurt everyone

Saying it again, even after his father explained that it was the parents fault

To not being able to understand why everyone was fighting for him

He’s been given an explanation, his parents have already explained that it wasn’t his fault, that they stupidly went to AFO on their own terms

But even so, Aoyama still continues to think of himself as a Villain

And, if we analyze body language too (something that has not been said outright but only what I think could mean)

His smile here while he confesses everything suggests a sort of “Now you know the truth, now you know what I really am”

The way his eyes are shaded, the hopeless look on his face, suggests “This is it, it’s all over for me”

Fear. This looks like straight up fear

A bit of a stretch, but the way he looks here tells me it’s kind of like “This is a given. Of course they’d do this to me”

The way Kirishima speaks, plus the background of lines showing intensity, I think this kind of expression maybe shows Aoyama thinking “Why are you still trying? Why aren’t you throwing me in prison? Why are you fighting for me?”. He looks frustrated that they keep pressing

“Stop trying. It may already be over for me.”

Tho this body language analysis isn’t set in stone, it’s only my interpretation, so please keep that in mind. But there is no arguing with how he outright continues to think of and talk about himself as a Villain

It’s as if Aoyama, as soon as he began to attend UA (maybe as it got to the middle of the first year), has thought of himself as a Villain. That as soon as he saw the damage he’d done with AFO, he couldn’t help but feel more and more guilty until it began bubbling to the surface, until he could no longer hold back

Do you know what this behavior reminds me of?

Toga

Of course, things don’t directly connect. Aoyama didn’t murder anybody. But already, I can draw a few parallels

For one, the smile. Toga put a mask over her face to show she was normal, that things were okay, that she could be like everyone else. And Aoyama has had a smile over his face this entire time

This constant smile was almost like a mask. I’m sure, at some points, it was real. But there were definitely times where it had to have been there to show he was okay, that he was like everybody else, that he was a normal kid like the rest of the Heroes in training

Second, the suppression. Toga was taught to suppress her urges, to be normal like everybody else, because she was “scary” and had a “creepy smile”. It’s because of these attributes that she was seen as a problem, to her parents but also to the counselling service. She was even described as a demon child, even though she couldn’t help how she was

Of course, this is not to the same extent as Aoyama, but I think the one thing that is remotely closest to Demon Child is “UA Traitor”. Hagakure has called him the traitor even after hearing him cry about what he has to do

He’s been called this, but he isn’t actually a traitor. Or at least, not a full traitor. He did betray his friends, but I think he could also be classed as a hostage. Gun to his head, “do this now or your parents will die”; a hostage. It’s yet to be seen if anybody else will continue to call him/refer to him as just a traitor (though I hope not), but if anybody does, it’ll be interesting

Third, forced to conform because of parents. There’s a lot of things that made Toga put on her mask, but I think the source of it came from her parents. I mean, they were the first people to look at her indulging in her urges and think “wtf is wrong with her” and say this outright. To yell at her to be normal, to set her up for counselling, that had to be where it stemmed from. A sort of obligation to put on a mask and be like everybody else

And with Aoyama, his parents were so worried about him being quirkless and different that they chased a rumor just so he could be like everyone else. To bridge that gap even the tiniest bit so he wouldn’t have any difficulties in life. They basically sent the signal that in order to be treated equally, in order to be accepted, he had to conform

What is alarming is the reiteration of this single phrase

First mentioned when Aoyama himself says it as a little boy who got beat up (shaded background, a memory), to a clear white background (said like a truth, like he still thinks this is the case. and for him, it is)

That kind of reiteration is also present in Toga’s past, and even in MVA, when she is told to be normal and that she should want to be

What’s interesting as well is that even the words “normal” and “different” are contrasted, but still paralleled with the effect they have had on Aoyama and Toga

And finally, a fear of being caught

There’s a reason Toga ran as soon as she attacked that boy in school. It’s because of the Hero saturated society, because of the insistence of “if you’re different, if you’ve done wrong, even if you didn’t mean to, you are a villain and you will be condemned as one” that she ran away as soon as she could

“Day after day, the police and Heroes came after me (...) I learned that the world treats high school girls just a little bit kinder.”

She herself is a high school girl on the run. The way Toga phrases this here, you’d think the simple fact that she is a high school girl would protect her a bit. But she learned that she had to dress like one, that she had to act like one, that she had to act like a normal high school girl in order to be free another day

All so she didn’t get caught

As soon as she decided to attack that boy, it was all over and she knew it. So she ran and ran, because she knew she’d be condemned. She knew they wouldn’t treat her fairly

And with Aoyama, he too had to pretend to be normal in order to avoid suspicion. You can see that, throughout these chapters, he is just scared

There’s a sort of unspoken text here. Because what Aoyama was told was to “not tell anyone” about what was going on. He had no idea that his parents would be killed until this day when they told him

Before, he could have chosen to still go to the police. He could have been riddled with guilt after Kamino, when he thought AFO would stay in prison forever

So why didn’t he? It’s obvious that he didn’t want to upset his friends, that he didn’t want to disobey his parents. But let’s say that he was way too guilty to obey his parents anymore. Let’s say that he wanted to be truthful about everything. He would have had every option to go to the police and tell them what happened

So why didn’t he?

I think he was scared. Scared of his involvement with a Villain. Scared that he kept this going for so long, even though he had no choice. Scared that he could be condemned

There’s already so much subtext of “if you’re different, if you’ve done wrong, even if you didn’t mean to, you are a villain and you will be condemned as one” that Aoyama would have caught onto. Even if it wasn’t about the Different thing, everybody knows that if you’ve done something wrong and have been caught, you’re basically classed as a criminal or a Villain. And we all know the steep slope from criminal to Villain if you have no support. I bet Aoyama thought he’d have no support at all if he was caught (which is evidenced by how he’s in disbelief that 1A still want to help him)

Maybe, somewhere along the line, he began to think that he really was a Villain because he was scared to admit what he’d done, that he’d indirectly hurt the people he loved

And I think that fear is clear throughout these past chapters

Another thing is acceptance. While he is still scared, there is also an element that he knew what was going to happen, that he knew how he’d be treated

(he says this very normally, not yet at the point where his speech bubbles are shaky. its like he’s thought about himself like this before, the fact that he’s admitting it calmly as well says a lot)

And yet he still looks empty inside, despite the knowledge of what would/could happen

Actually, maybe it isn’t that Aoyama was first scared of how society would treat him, but more that he was scared of how his class/friends would treat him. But him being scared of how he would be treated by society is dependent on how the class reacts. Sort of a cause-and-effect kind of thing, where depending on how the class reacts, it could mean the same for how society reacts. If the class looked at him and yelled at him angrily, in a way condemning him, he probably would have looked a little more scared etc (if that makes sense)

Lastly, I want to talk about how Aoyama’s arc poses the same question Toga has

Toga is someone who couldn’t help the urges that are tied to her quirk. It’s something that she was born with, and society (namely her parents) taught her to fear being different

For her, being normal became something she despised

But for Aoyama, being different became something he despised

On this spectrum, between “normal” and “different”, lies the question “What does Hero Society want when our normal or different are wrong? Where do they draw the line? If I tried to be myself, would they kill me too?”

Aoyama’s normal is a scared little boy afraid to be different, so he wants to be normal like everybody else. But Toga’s difference is a little girl who hates being normal, who wants to be accepted and loved for who she is because of that difference

Where do they draw the line? It’s not to say Aoyama won’t be saved, but he’s not exactly being treated well. You could say that Tsukauchi is just taking precautions, but even so, it’s a lot to go through for a child like Aoyama

Especially when you look at it as fear, because Aoyama would have seen Twice’s footage. A Villain, trying to help his friends, trying to protect his loved ones, and being killed just like that. When you look at all of that (internalize that Villains will be killed for opposing Heroes), then you get caught, tied up and muzzled? I’d be scared. I’d be terrified, even if I knew I wasn’t at fault

And we know Toga’s fear of being caught, of what they will do to her. We know, even more so after Twice, that that fear must have increased a lot inside her

“If I tried to be myself”... If Aoyama tried to be himself, lets say, express his deep apologies, cry that he just wanted to be accepted and loved, that he was a quirkless boy in a quirk-filled world who got bullied and hurt emotionally and physically for simply being born - would they still kill him? Given the chance?

I think it’s a little hard to say. Given the fact that while he has betrayed everyone, he is still a Hero with a license, even if provisional. He still has the privilege of connections, not just with his rich parents but with his classmates as well who would probably die before letting anything bad happen to him. The teaching staff, too, who have All Might (a guy with connections) and Aizawa backing his corner. It’s easy to look at that and think that he’ll be spared

But when we look at the dialogue in 337, Aoyama mentions feeling sorry, but he mentions the classmates and his regrets with the news about Izuku more. If anything, the innocent people who could have died are mentioned so briefly that, I guess, there’s a way in which that could be spun by the media/people to make Aoyama look bad

Personally, I think Aoyama will be spared (if not from prison time then at least death), but who knows what could happen

When we look at Toga, she already is herself. And “herself” is giving into her urges of drinking blood, of stealing identities, of stabbing and killing. She’s already been chased down repeatedly for doing these things. Which means, without a doubt, yes. I think, given the chance, a Hero would kill her. That’s if Ochako and/or others don’t intervene though

One more similarity between them is that, despite this whole Normal vs Different thing that's been outlined, they just want to be loved. Behind that fear of being too different or being too normal, they both, more than anything, just want support, understanding and acceptance

On the whole, I find it very interesting that similarities can be found in Toga and Aoyama, especially because they are so young (with Aoyama being the youngest) and have done wrong. Obviously there are differences in their characters, especially in what they have done wrong from a narrative point of view, but I still think it’s worth noting for the future of the series if Aoyama’s guilt is touched on again. There may even be more parallels revealed! And I’ll look forward to that

Thank you for reading this very long analysis

And now, I want to share some panels that I think are interesting between Toga and Aoyama

You without the mask

Similar looking boys who chipped their masks

Smiling when they show who they really are

“Mama and Papa” (a little different but, I don’t think we’ve heard any other characters who refer to their parents similarly? Idk)

I want to be like

Outside help that no doubt caused some trauma (though this is more of a theory on Toga’s side. Personally, I see red flags with that counselling service)

#sorry this is a little bleh and messy #but uh #aoyama and toga huh #god please somebody help aoyama #and toga too #i hope this makes sense #i'll probably edit it at some point to make sense #but here #*throws this at you and walks away*#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 338 #bnha manga spoilers #bnha spoilers #aoyama yuuga #toga himiko #also i'm sorry this is a little jumbled #mettys posts #metty posts

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onyxheartbeat · 3 years

Text

Dear HIM/Ville Valo fans,

this is a long post but I must discuss this.

________

I came across this interview of Kat Von D from a few days ago. Before I get into my thoughts, below is a passage from her old book “Go Big or Go Home” which you may or may not have read. She wrote about Ville:

________

“I only knew his music, and I loved it on first listen. It was dark and it was beautiful. It was metal and it was poetry. It was love loaded into a gun, and I wondered about the man behind the songs. Two years later, our paths crossed, and like the majority of the connections I’ve made in life, tattooing brought us together. Through our first tattoo sessions, we began to get to know each other. For the next few years, I just thought of him as my friend from overseas, and that was all. Then, after knowing him for six years, something changed. It could have been the wine, the music, or the moon. Most likely it was just perfect timing. Just one kiss, and he changed my world. We were both sad back then, and lost. I was depressed, having finally ended a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. I was also dealing with the pressures of filming a television show, which was totally new to me - and drinking my way blindly through it all. His story mirrored mine, and he had been feeling just as low. We had been waiting for something to happen, for someone or something to come along and save us from ourselves. And when it suddenly seemed that that someone was each other, it took us both by surprise. We shared darkness, and doing that bought light back into our somber worlds: for once, we didn’t feel alone.He’s the reason why I wanted to write music to begin with - and learn to sing. I remember the exact moment I made up my mind about making music. It was something I felt I needed to do, not for any reason other than a way to respond to him. It didn’t matter if the songs I’d write never saw the light of day, as long as he was able to listen to my music, my message to him. He had told me to look for a package at my door step, prefacing the delivery of the contents, his new album, saying, “These are all of the things that are easier sung than said.”I knew what he meant, but never imagined that each song would be filled with direct messages to me. I put the album on, and the music rushed out of the speakers and filled my house. His voice rang all around, making it’s way to the core of my heart with every word he sang. As cryptic as those lyrics may have been for anyone else, I knew exactly what each word meant and recognized every event and place he referred to. The songs were so beautiful, I just wished so badly that he could have said everything out loud just once to me. How should I respond to something like this? Where do I even start?The first time I saw him after I got sober, he was in town working on music. We sat in my office at the shop until the late hours of the night, talking and catching up about everything - music, home, art and work. Did we talk about love? No. We constantly danced around our past instead. What happened to us? I couldn’t find the courage to ask because I was scared of the answer I already knew. We decided to draw, with pencils and paper in front of us, we sat at opposite ends of the table. He pulled my three-minute timer from one of the nearby shelves, and placed it at the center of the table. He suggested we draw each other, and I was game. With a flip of the hourglass, the grains of sand moved from one vessel to the other, and we began.Sketching these timed portraits forced us to stare at each other, making it practically impossible to focus on the drawing itself. I had almost forgotten how beautiful his face was. He has a combination of eyes, lips, and a darkness to his looks that makes him look almost otherworldly. With him, I felt like I was at the center of an orderly, tranquil, magnificent universe. For those short three minutes, there were no questions about life or purpose. It was as if we never needed any more from each other than this.Like all people, I’ve suffered from love sickness and tasted the pain of love. The theatrical director of my mind, the one who staged all these versions of him and my life with him, seemed to be unaffected by reason. I was finding myself constantly day dreaming of the past.His eyes, his hands, his crooked smile - I’d ruminate over his features. Things he said. Things he did. Things he wrote. Things he drew. Things he sang. Over and over again, I’d sift through these images and memories as if they somehow contained the answer to my prayers. But I was living with a long-age memory of him; living so far away from the present moment.If we had spoken about what we were or what we thought we were, back when we got sober, I wouldn’t have been so confused, wandering what if, and writing the rest of our story in my mind. What did I expect? For him to magically not hear about me being in a relationship? And to not be bothered by it? If only he would have asked….. I would have….. If we could have only talked….. then things would be….. if we allowed ourselves to transform our fears of being open, vulnerable, then, I’d convince myself, we would be together. I realized that none of that mattered now. If I wanted to be free of this unrequited longing, I would have to make peace with the past and finally let it go. There was no way around it. But did I want to be free of it? - and him?I listened to one of his songs the other day. Out of all the songs he wrote on that album, this one was the most direct. He sings my name in the chorus. By the time the song is over, I’ve felt a range of emotions - I’m sad but happy, frustrated but calm. He sings about how I alone bring him to a place of stillness and peace within when we are together. What a victorious feeling - to enter into a place with him where no one else has been. To be able to bring goodness to and draw it out of someone. Those sweet thoughts were interrupted by an e-mail from him. Impeccable timing as always. It’s just a short note, letting me now he’s somewhere out there, thinking of me. He ends the message by calling me “Star Face” - his pet name for me from long ago that no one else uses. At that moment, I loathe him for it. I loathe him because I love him. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to walk away from this if he’d just tell me that he hates me, that he wants nothing to do with me. But instead he calls me “Star Face.” There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not letting go, either.‘Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.’The silver plane hurtled over Newfoundland, over the Labrador sea. Someone told me I might see the northern lights as I fly east and north, but I wouldn’t have noticed as I was deep in writing the letter that I had already mentally composed long before I decided to make this trip to see him over New Year’s Day. I didn’t have to edit myself this time, I knew exactly what the letter would say.I reread the note to myself before sealing the envelope. Then I drew out the first letter of his name in pencil on the front. What a beautiful letter it was, probably my favorite out of the entire alphabet. A letter I was so used to writing myself. With ease the swirls and curves of each arch seemed to flow from my heart, my mind’s eye, drawn in and through my arms to my hands, releasing themselves onto the pale ivory paper envelope. My plane landed soon after.I had missed this country, I had missed him, too. I wondered how time had treated him ,for it had been a few years since I had last seen him. I wondered if I still had the ability to quiet his heart when he was feeling manic. He always said I had a way of doing that when I was near. And I wondered if he even needed me in that way anymore.When we met up, he looked just as beautiful as the day we saw each other for the first time, almost ten years before. And as if no time had passed, we started right where we left off - hours flew by in the comfort of each other’s presence. Talking. Catching up.He asked if I was getting sleepy, and my attempt at concealing the tiredness was transparent. I looked at the clock; maybe it was the jet lag or the clock hands pointing to midnight, but I knew it was time to say good-bye. Reluctantly, we both stood up and tried our best to part ways. As good as it felt to be near him again, I gave him the letter I had written letting him know that I was letting the nation of us go. He took the sealed envelope, and then I watched him walk away for what I assumed would be the last time.My heart didn’t belong locked up in a tower across the ocean from my home. It belonged in my chest, beating, living, feeling, sometimes hurting, but always loving. I deserved to be free, and understanding and needing that more than a dream, I was finally able to let him go.”

_________

Now, let me start by saying, I’ve never understood this and I still don’t. I’ve had that passage saved in my drafts for years because I keep almost anything pertaining to Ville.

I’ve been a HIM fan since I was about 15 years old, and have followed Ville’s life and work closely. The friendship between them was always apparent to HIM fans in those days, because we saw her in photos with the band often. I used to watch Miami Ink and LA Ink as regularly as pretty much anyone in those days, and I remember when this particular passage of her book was brought to light, the HIM fan base read it and we all had our thoughts. We were all aware of Screamworks being written about Kat (it’s obvious in the lyrics of the album) even though Ville never specifically said Kat’s name when asked about it in interviews.

I remember being baffled back when we as HIM fans discovered this passage from the book. I couldn’t imagine not making that relationship work if it was true love. I’m a bit biased because I adore Ville and he’s like a dream to me, but I just couldn’t understand it. It seemed like she took the relationship for granted or she didn’t love him enough to make it work; but I digress. I get it; love and relationships are complex.

Still, flash forward to this recent interview (the screenshot), she says it was unrequited love, and I’m still not understanding it. Why release all the songs now? Why didn’t she make it work if it was true love? Who is she trying to say was the one not reciprocating (as the word “unrequited” suggests) in the relationship? I don’t understand any of it. More than anything, I’ve had so many questions that I wish I could ask Ville about it all because he only spoke briefly about it all, and it was always rather cryptic.

I’m only writing this as a HIM fan, and because I love Ville and his lyrics on Screamworks so, so much (it’s an extremely underrated album in the HIM discography, in my opinion) so I’m letting any fellow HIM lovers know she wrote an album in response to it, in case you’re interested. I haven’t followed Kat or her work in many years, so I don’t know what to make of all this, but it’s always been extremely apparent to me when listening to Screamworks that a lot of heart went into it and even pain, not that his lyrics on other albums aren’t like that too, but I felt it more on Screamworks. I feel that Ville was the one who was truly heartbroken.

You all probably know from following my blog that I’m obsessed with love and unrequited love. Any romantic stories, bittersweet letters, heartbreak, longing etc. is just my favorite thing in the world so please excuse the long post, haha.

#ville valo #him #h.i.m.#h.i.m #him band #screamworks #his infernal majesty

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tharros-auris-black-asimi · 3 years

Text

Lay All your Love on Me (Chapter 8) (Part 2)

Paring: Dark Soft Alpha Lee Bodecker x Female Omega Reader

Summary: After moving to Knockemstiff, Ohio with your troubled parents, you find solace in the local Seven-Eleven. There, you bump into the Alpha sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

And then you keep bumping into him. There’s just something about the chubby Alpha that keeps drawing you in. Now there’s something going on with the new preacher of the church that you attend. Everything’s a mess.

But you’re an unbonded Omega. Life can turn to shit anyway.

Chapter Warnings: This chapter includes more possessive behavior from our Alpha Daddy. Maybe some stalking too? Just a little bit of smut in this one. Some vaginal fingering. As well as some fluff and a marriage proposal from Lee. Not officially, that'll be in a later chapter, but they do discuss marriage. There are death threats and gun violence from our Omega Reader. And we can count the dead body in this chapter, lol. Talk of unplanned pregnancy and rape in this one.

Additional Notes: Part two was a lot longer than I thought it was, and I didn't want to cram it all in one single chapter, because there was just so much going on that I didn't want to confuse anyone. So, that's why I had to split it in half. So this is the second half! Much longer than part one, lol. Please refer to the chapter warnings before proceeding, and minors, DNI.

Word Count: 7,262

The familiar dinging of the Seven-Eleven brought you back.

Back to the first time you had met Lee.

Officially.

A warm feeling rushed through you. Almost like you were giddy. A pep in your step as you showed Sandy to the way of the lovely drinks of heaven, aka slushies.

There was familiar music playing.

You even said hello to the cashier up at the front when you had come in.

The linoleum aisles really brought you back.

You had so many happy memories with Lee here.

It made you feel so warm.

Your Omega was delighted to be back at a place she was familiar with. This place… she knew this place. She spent time with her Alpha here. Memories of you and Lee came back.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

“Okay… so you can choose whatever flavor ya want. They got cherry, Lee really likes that one, blueberry, and grape. I like to get cherry and blueberry. Mix em together. Tastes and looks nice.”

Nods came from Sandy. She watched as you filled up Lee’s cup with the cherry, happily humming a tune under your breath. Then you did yours. Mixing the red and blue together with your straw, before you plopped the correct lids on.

Click. Click.

The sounds of you sticking the straws in made Sandy come back. You were smiling, even as you took a small sip of your mixed slushie.

A slow smile stretched onto her face.

“Okay… I think I get it now. Any flavor, you said?” She questioned you.

“Mhmmm… any flavor.” came your response.

Sandy’s gaze turned to the grape flavor.

A full smile spread onto her face.

“… What do you mean, we’re leavin’ early?”

You were blinking. Your mother just let out a sigh. You looked so confused.

Laying on the big folding chairs in the backyard of Lee’s home, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts underneath your bikini top and bottoms.

Because of the fucking creep in your house. You wanted to avoid him, and be cautious if he was looking at you from the windows.

“… Emma called again. After lunch. Lee gave me the phone, and she explained to me the issue with Lenora. So I told her we’d be going early. Is that okay?”

Was it okay?

You shifted your body, so you could be laying on your side. Your fingers tapped against the folding chair when you answered your mother.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m not sure if I’m okay with leaving Lee and his sister with that freak inside the house, mama.”

Said freak being your technical brother-in-law.

It wasn’t like you were married to Lee or anything. But the thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Made you feel all fuzzy inside. Your head lift.

You had given the idea some thought. Would you entertain the idea as well? Sometimes. Did you want to marry him?

After much deliberation, yes. Yes, you wanted to marry this man.

Oh did you want to marry him.

So badly.

But with the current weirdo in your house, you probably couldn’t even talk to Lee about it. Because every time Carl was in a room with you, you just avoided talking to anyone altogether. Other than the times where you would be in bed with Lee. Then yes. Other than that, no. Not at all.

Up came your mama’s hand towards her forehead.

She had been anticipating this.

Oh yes, she had.

Because you weren’t wrong.

Carl had so many red flags.

So many red flags.

Many, many red flags.

Every time she saw him, your mother’s fight or flight reflex would act up.

It was like looking at her husband almost.

Terrified could be one word to explain how your mother felt around the man. Almost like she felt as if she was walking on eggshells around him.

He just gave her so many bad vibes.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But Lee will be fine. He’s the sheriff. He can handle himself.” Was what she told you. Tried to reassure your nerves.

You, however, were not that reassured so easily.

You still raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

You were worried for your Alpha.

How could you not be? He was your Alpha, for fucks sake. You were bonded to the Sheriff of Knockemstiff. He was your Alpha. Your Lee. Your Daddy.

You had a right to be worried about him.

So you couldn’t help it.

It was perfectly reasonable.

Very reasonable, in fact.

“I dunno mama… I’m still a little bit worried.” You admitted quietly.

And your mother could understand that.

Even with her Beta status, she knew how it would affect a recently bonded Pair.

Because you were recently Mated.

She saw the bite mark on your neck from Lee that proclaimed you as his. The fucking entire county probably knew you were his alone by the bite in your neck. And if anyone were to speak an ill word against you, well, your Daddy would set them straight. Lee Bodecker, Sheriff Lee Bodecker would see to it that no one spoke any ill word against his mate.

Because you were his. His alone. His Omega. His other half. Lee knew for a fact that he would murder for you. Hell, if you even asked him to murder someone, he would still do it. Because that was how much his love ran for you. It was so deep.

And now that you had his bite on your Mating Gland, well, he knew for a damn fact that if someone were to take you, they would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands. Or body. They would have to kill him first to get to you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

As you and your mother were in his backyard, laying on the foldable chairs from where he watched from your shared bedroom that used to be his once upon a time, he watched.

Was it out of line, or even creepy to be stalking you?

Probably.

But did he care?

No.

Absolutely not. He didn’t give a single flying fuck anymore.

You were his now. So he had a right to be concerned, where his other half was.

Completely reasonable.

But Lee… Lee didn’t know where this surge of possessiveness had come from.

Ever since you had bitten his Mating Gland and you and your mother had moved in, the Bond complete, Lee felt something shift inside of him. Almost like a change in the air.

For the past couple of nights, weeks even, you had been adjusting. Throwing out your nest over and over again. Lee would hear you in the bedroom when he’d come back from work, having thrown your nest across the room like you were a freaking superhero. Grumbling and hissing underneath your breath about it not being in its proper place.

Throw out. Fix again. Throw out. Fix again.

Rinse and repeat that for the past few nights, and now, now as Lee moved so he could sit comfortably in the nest, watching you get up after saying something to your mother that made her sigh in fondest, padding back into the house, it was perfect.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sounds of your footsteps smacking against the hardwood floors of the hallway caught his attention.

Seeing you at the doorway, mumbling and spewing curses underneath your breath as you slammed the bedroom door shut behind you, shoving your shorts down. Revealing your bikini bottoms. He watched as you slipped on a pair of jeans like it was nothing. Shimmying into them and hissing to yourself, oddly sounding like, “stupid fuckin’ creepy motherfuckin’ Betas,” or something like that. Grabbing a scrunchie from your vanity that you had moved in from your house, tying your hair up. A few strands of hair falling free into your face, which you tucked away behind your ears.

When you finally did look at him, a genuine, real smile stretched over your face. Walking over, allowing the beacon that was your Alpha, your Daddy, his big, strong arms wrapping around you, surrounding you in his scent that reminded you of home.

Nuzzling your face into his shoulder, against his uniform. Against that star embedded into his uniform that made the slightest bit of arousal leak from your pussy.

A soft, gentle sigh was expressed from you.

His voice was throaty when he spoke.

“When you come back from visitin’ Arvin and his folks…”

Up came your head. Looking at him, encouraging him to go on with that wide, innocent look in your eyes that you saved only for him.

A nod.

He continued.

“I want to get married. I want you to wear my ring and my mark. I want you to have my name.”

His hands came to cup your face as he talked. You listened.

Thrill ran down your spine.

“… Want it, Daddy… want Daddy all to myself… want your name, Daddy…” your response was breathy as you looked at him.

Something broke in him.

Shattered.

Cause just then, Lee had grabbed you, spun your around, landing right on top of your vanity. He made sure to not smack you down loud. You had guests in the house, after all.

Well.

Sandy was in the living room with your mother, who had just come in. Carl, thank fuck, was out doing god fucking knows what.

There was a noise of Lee unzipping your jeans. He shoved them down your ankles. In fact, just for good measure, he shoved your bikini panties down too. Shoved three thick fingers into your pussy that was already leaking.

You gasped.

Keened, even.

How could you not?

Although… although you would’ve preferred your Daddy’s tongue, his fingers worked just fine. That feeling of your pussy being plugged always gave you pure bliss.

Pump. Squish. Pump. Squish.

Lee’s breath ghosted against your mating gland, making a shudder run down your spine as he fucked you with his fingers.

All the while, secure in the knowledge that his own little sister and future-mother-in-law were in the next room.

No more fucks had been given.

You were so full.

Oh so full.

You were cumming in no time at all, your walls clenching down harshly onto Lee’s fingers. Shuddering as you came. Feeling like someone had smacked the air out of your lungs.

Deep breaths and pants came from you.

His lips were pressed down onto your mating gland. The tip of his tongue peeking out, before his tongue licked your gland, making your hips stutter. His fingers still buried deep inside of you, all the way up to his knuckles.

He was buried so deep inside of you, but still, that wasn’t enough.

And then his fingers were moving again. Pushing back up inside of you, filling your pussy up.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Keening noises came from you. Wet, squishing noises echoed with every thrust of Lee’s fingers plunging back into your wet cunt. You had to hold onto your vanity, gripping the edge so tight that your knuckles were turning white. You were so wet and turned on, having just come once already.

It wasn’t until you came for a second time, your second orgasm piggybacking from your first one, a soft little whimper filling the bedroom as you clamped down onto his fingers, your breathing turning a little breathless. Softer.

“Daddy…” your voice was softer, bringing the Alpha back.

Squirming came from you when Lee licked your gland again. Your back arched up against his front, your toes curling up, making you rise a few inches. His arms wrapped around you, his scent coiling around you.

“Mean it,” his voice was a little rough, “wanna give you my name, babydoll. Want this whole goddamn fuckin’ county to know who your Alpha is.”

Your pussy throbbed. A low hiss came from Lee at the sensation.

“When my ma and I get back… when we get back… we’ll do it. It’ll be the first thing we do, Daddy.”

“Promise?”

His voice was a low rumble, making a deep shudder spread down your spine.

“Promise.”

When you turned so you could look at him, Lee noticed you trembling.

“I… I mean it, you know.”

You were shaking. Absolutely feeling so many emotions all at once.

“I… I really do wanna marry you. I got your mark already but… I want your name. Your ring. I really do. I already got ya mark but… I really want it. You. All of you. I… I want your pups too, Daddy.”

Words were coming out so quickly you weren’t really quite sure what you were saying either.

But the next words… those next three words… you remembered them. You remembered them well.

“I love you… I love you so much,” you were crying. When had you started crying?

But whatever now.

You were crying and spilling out your feelings like a lovesick teenager.

Your Lee, your Alpha, your Daddy, he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you closer to him as his head dipped down, his tongue flattening against your gland, making your ears pop. His scent overflowing your nose as he scented you. Marked you. Your body shuddered against his. Your Omega was overjoyed.

Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha is a good Alpha.

“I love you too, Little Omega.”

A couple of hours later...

Something was deeply wrong once you and your mother had driven up to Coal Creek.

It was like a fog that had seeped through your bones, once you had gotten up to the house.

However, you were broken out of your current train of thought when you saw Arvin running out of the house, running towards you, picking you up, and making you squeal.

Alphas and their strength.

“Everythin’s been so boring without you!” The young Alpha complained once he put you down, “the whole house’s been silent except for Lenora’s puking!”

Puking?

How… peculiar.

Very interesting.

It made you raise an eyebrow, as Arvin helped you and your mother inside as your sleepy brain tried to rack at what Arvin had just said.

But you didn’t dwell on it for far too long, considering once you had finally lodged your suitcase into your room, you had crashed immediately on the spot.

What had made you wake up from your slumber though, was puking.

Someone was puking their guts out in the bathroom.

Groggily, you stirred.

Even made a noise of deep discomfort from being woken up. Your Omega even stirred. She was also not very happy with these changes of events. You heard her in your mind, grumbling unhappily at the Omega who was currently vomiting her guts out.

After you managed to lodge yourself out of bed, you padded down the hallway, down to the bathroom, where the vomiting had been coming from.

What you saw made you nearly shriek.

Lenora cried out in surprise.

But that wasn’t what you were focusing on.

Your eyes were wide.

Your nose smelled something.

Something was very wrong with Lenora. You sniffed at the air.

Strange.

The brunette Omega watched as you walked over to where she was, kneeling over the toilet. She watched you get onto your knees, grabbing some paper to wipe her mouth.

“Need you to stand. Can you stand?” You asked her.

A nod.

Being as careful as possible, you helped Lenora up to her feet, helping her to the sink. Helping to rinse her mouth. Lenora coughed and spluttered the first few times. But eventually, you managed to help her rinse her mouth clean of any bile or puke.

“I’m gonna need ya to brush ya teeth. Can you do that? Brush your teeth?”

Another nod came from her.

Nodding at her, you quietly gave her some space. Some time to brush her teeth, while you scurried out of the bathroom and down the hallway again, into the living room.

After scouring around for everyone or anyone else who could be in the little house with you and Lenora, you found that it was just the two of you.

The Russell’s car wasn’t in the driveway. But your mother’s car was still in the driveway, which you assumed that she had caught a ride with Emma and Arvin. Finding yourself back in the kitchen, you also found that she had left the keys on the dining table.

You heard her spit into the sink. Then you heard the sounds of the sink being turned on and off. Padding footsteps made you aware of the fact that she was coming into the kitchen where you were.

That uneasy feeling filled you up again.

“So… how long have you been pukin’?”

Lenora blinked in surprise.

“U-Um…” she looked almost nervous, her voice stuttering. “A-About… a week now? I dunno why. Maybe I’m comin’ down with somethin’-”

You sniffed the air again. Lenora looked confused.

“What’re you doin’?” she asked, bewildered.

Still, you continued to sniff the air.

“Arvin said you presented. Did you have any toys? Emma provide you with any?” you inquired. Lenora’s cheeks flushed. “I- no. N-No. I never… I never got to.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Whatcha mean, you never got to? You’re supposed to?! You stayed home, right?!”

“N-No.”

You were even more confused.

“Lenora…” you were still very confused, but you didn’t want to frighten her. Scare her. Nothing of the sort. So your voice became gentler. “Lenora… when you present… you’re supposed to stay home. Your presentation… it hurts like a bitch.”

Lenora made a noise.

“Language!”

You waved that away.

“Bah,” you were unbothered, “you’ll cuss eventually. It comes to everyone.” Undeterred, you went on. “Any penny saver… your presentation. It hurts a lot. You’ll go into heat right after. It’s what happened to me.”

“Did it… how much did it hurt?” Lenora asked you tensely. Almost as if she was walking on eggshells. Clapping a hand gently on her shoulder, you steered her to the couch. It was time for a heart-to-heart. Omega to Omega.

“Well… it depends on the person. For me, it hurt like a bitch. It felt like… I felt like I was doing to die. As dramatic as that shit sounds… it really did hurt. My Ma had to send me to the damn ER cause all I would do was climb the walls like a bitch in heat. The whole thing… it felt like I wasn’t really… myself. Like I wasn’t all there, you know? Like… I was there. Subconsciously. But my designation… my Mega… she was in control. It’s kinda a helpless feelin’, bein’ in heat. All you want to do is fuck and breed. It’s what your designation craves. Needs. After though… I was still in pain a little bit. After-effects of heat. And I was really tired. Conked out for the next couple of days to recover. That’s why you gotta get a week off of school. Why weren’t cha in the house recoverin’? Where were you?”

Although now, you were thinking to yourself.

You were Bonded now.

You had a Bondmate. You had an Alpha.

You had never told Lee about your heats. About how much they hurt. For as long as you could remember, they were always painful. Many trips to the ER and hospitals didn’t do you any good. You had to be quarantined from everyone else because your scent was so strong. So thick. You remembered throwing fits, pounding your fists on walls, and screaming because it hurt so much. Your designation would wail and rage within you, wanting her needs to be met. Your Omega, your Omega was truly one of a kind.

In truth, you could admit to yourself why you hadn’t told him just yet.

You were terrified.

Truly utterly terrified.

What if you hurt him?

What if you killed him?

What if he saw what you were capable of during your heat and decided it was too much?

No.

No, no, no.

The mere thought of it was breaking your heart.

Your Alpha, your Daddy, he wouldn’t do that to you.

Would he?

Lenora faltered. Even paused. She looked like she had been slapped.

She had gone silent.

You sniffed at the air again. You could smell her scent of vanilla and cherries, yes, and while your brain processed that this was an Omega in front of you, something just wasn’t feeling right in your gut.

A darker, deeper feeling was twisting your stomach. It made your brain go into darker thoughts.

Lenora looked almost terrified. Her eyes kept darting around. Her scent shifted and started to burn your nose. Your eyes even watered a bit, smelling how her sweet scent slowly turned sour.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me where you were. But I need you to listen to me carefully, okay?”

Your voice was nothing but gentle as you gently looked at the younger Omega. Your voice washed over her, coaxing her. You were sending off soothing pheromones, calming her frantic and shaking form.

Lenora let out a sniff.

“The world for us Omegas… it’s a dark and dangerous place out there. Always gotta be on our guard. Fuckin’ knuckleheaded Alphas who can’t take no for an answer. And for us women… well, we still gotta be on our guard. Men are stupid.”

A choked noise came from Lenora.

It made your Omega straighten up.

Your head cocked to the side.

Suddenly, it clicked.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was pregnant.

Lenora was fucking pregnant with a fucker’s pup.

You couldn’t explain the feeling that had run through you. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head. It gripped you like a vice. Trapping and ensuring you in place. You might’ve even called the feeling pure horror seeping through your bones.

But you wouldn’t call it pure horror that was running through your veins at this moment. It was more than that.

“Lenora… were you visiting your mother?”

She only responded back to you with one word.

“ Yes.”

Now…

You had never been one for faith.

You weren’t a believer.

Not even when you had been younger.

You didn’t know why you didn’t believe. You hadn’t really given it much thought as you had grown older. Going to church seemed like an obligation. Almost as if you had to go. Truth be told, you always fell asleep during the sermons. So there was that.

But as you drove your mother’s car down to the church, your jaw was tight.

Those dark thoughts were back.

It had been a while since you had slipped into that dark headspace. Not only that, but it had been a while since you had actually driven a car. These days, you didn’t really drive, considering you just walked everywhere. A small town did that to you.

Growing up, especially in your dysfunctional household, your parent’s car was almost like an escape for you. Other than your room. Even then though, whenever you’d sit in your parent’s car, hearing the shouting coming from inside the house, the car didn’t quite still feel like your own.

Unlike the car, your room was strictly yours. Yours and yours alone. Your parent’s cars had their names on them. So it didn’t really feel like yours.

However, your new bedroom, after the attack, it didn’t quite feel like yours anymore. To be completely and utterly honest, you had felt like you had been in haze for the past couple of weeks. Like you were just here. Like a star up in the sky, aimlessly floating through space and time, just observing everything around you.

You felt like a ghost.

Although, at this moment, you didn’t feel quite as empty as you had been these past couple of weeks.

Now?

Now you felt ready and secure to kill a man.

An Alpha.

Never had you ever felt so angry to the point of violence. You weren’t a fucking pansy. You weren’t a fucking pacifist. You believed that if violence was truly needed, that you would use it. Only if it was the last possible option. Then yes, you would fuck shit up.

Here and now, however, violence was truly your one and only option.

Emma, Arvin, and your mother had come home to the Russell house a bit ago. You told them that you’d be going into town and that you would be dropping off at the church, to clean up Lenora’s mother’s grave and put new flowers down.

So, with a newly bought bouquet of flowers, a scrubber, and some water in an old plastic bottle, you drove off to the church.

But you had a darker motive in mind.

As you drove up, you made sure to wear your Mate’s leather jacket. Somehow, smelling Lee’s scent, it made you feel safe. That what you were about to do was okay and justified.

It was okay.

It was going to be okay.

Finding a place to park the car, you took the keys out of the ignition. Stuffing the keys into the front pocket of your dress, you got out of the car with all of your things. Your eyes were sharp and focused, blood roaring through your veins. Even your Omega was in full and complete support. The entire duration of the car ride, she strayed, staying at the back of your mind, tapping her paw in turn. She was silent and feeling quite deadly. Ready to rip a man’s throat out. Her anger kept perfectly under control. But she was like a ticking bomb. She just needed one thing to tip her off, and you were pretty sure that if she wanted to take over and attack a man, that you wouldn’t be complaining.

Not really.

The sounds of scrubbing slowly filled your ears as the birds chirped in the trees. You were wearing gloves because you weren’t fucking stupid. Plus, you didn’t really like these gloves anyway. Your mother had bought them for you a few years back, because they were on sale at Sears and because she thought that had looked nice.

They looked fucking hideous.

Absolutely an abomination to gloves. But, they were easy to put on and take off. So that was a plus, you supposed.

Only when you had put down the bouquet of flowers did you hear a noise.

A leaf crunched.

Someone was walking towards you. From where you were, knelt over Helen Laferty’s grave, your head turned.

Immediately, your Omega screeched in alarm.

It was him.

The Alpha that had single-handily ruined Lenora’s life.

Preston Teagardin, with his scent of maple and something musky, made itself known to you.

Not that you wanted to know.

Not really.

“Preacher,” was your cold response as you turned your head back, and adjusted the flowers.

He couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

He had noticed you driving a car into the church. Saw you pull in, dressed in a dress with all of your crinolines underneath your dress, making your skirts puffy and out there. He had seen you get out, with all of your materials. You looked like a woman on a mission. And well, he was definitely curious.

Subconsciously though, his Alpha was telling him something was wrong. But Preston being Preston, ignored it.

Your scent had intrigued him. You smelled wonderful. Like freshly baked chocolate chips.

Although now, especially with that leather jacket draped over your shoulders, clinging to your form, making you look smaller, he caught another whiff in his nose. A deeper scent. It was a masculine scent. Chocolate and bourbon filled his nose too. He almost thought maybe you had a brother who was an Alpha, but then his eyes fell upon the bite on your mating gland that you showed proudly.

You had an Alpha.

The last he had seen of you, you had not had an Alpha.

So that meant you were recently bonded.

Preston didn’t know whether to be shocked or angry that you were bonded.

Finally finished with your work, you turned back to the still shell-shocked preacher and stood up. Brushing off your skirts.

“You know preacher, it’s quite interesting.”

He was confused.

“What’s confusing?”

Your lips stretched into a smile.

“It’s quite confusing to me. I’ve never been one for faith. Never truly got into the church, or believed in Him. I’m not very spiritual, or religious. Never have been. Never truly believed in a higher power. But that’s not all that puzzles me. You wanna know what truly puzzles me though, Preacher?”

When he didn’t answer, you cocked your head to the side appraisingly. You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“It truly puzzles and interests me that you, you’re a Man of God, aren’t you, Preacher? You’ll listen to someone if they need to confess their sins, won’t you? Take it to the grave? That’ll it just be between me and you?” you inquired. You tilted your head back, looking at him. Waiting for an answer.

“I-I…” Preston stammered, making you tilt your head again, almost like a dog looking at its master.

“Because really, I find it very, very, very interesting that you’re not aware that rape is forbidden in the Bible. Don’t you know when the disciples asked Jesus what they should do about their sexual urges, that Jesus told them to gouge out their eyes? And don’t you know that when Omegas present, that they’re supposed to stay home? And don’t you know, that you’re mated and married to an Omega who doesn’t know that her Alpha and husband is a motherfucking rapist?!”

Preston threw his hands up in surrender.

“No one’s going to care. Who do you think the masses are going to believe? A spineless Omega or a Preacher?”

Your eyes flashed dangerously. In less than a second, you pulled out a familiar-looking pistol from underneath your dress and pointed the weapon right in Preston’s face. You knew it was fully loaded. But, just to check, you made sure to reload.

“W-Wait- this is a mistake-” he stammered, stepping away from you. You watched his feet stumble. He tripped on his own feet, falling into the grass. He continued to push back.

“Believe it or not, I am not a huge fan of violence. Neither is my Alpha. He looks out for me. He’s an amazing Bondmate. I don’t think you’d like him either. He’s the one who gave me this before I came here with my Mama. Just in case. This world’s dangerous, you know.”

You had worn your special shoes for the occasion.

You were not wearing your kitten heels.

No.

You were wearing stilettos. Which, now would be considered out of fashion. But you had been gifted a pair from your Daddy. So, therefore, they were special and were to be worn on only special occasions.

And wasn’t this a special occasion?

You considered it one.

You didn’t even bother to reload a second time. You knew you were fully loaded. And besides, you weren’t going to kill him.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

You’d just give him a fate worse than death.

Seeing his terrified form, you aimed your gun down.

Right there, the pistol facing his left hand.

A gunshot rang out.

You heard a scream. Maybe even a yell.

Moving your pistol down lower, your second bullet went right into his left thigh, dangerously close to his dick. You saw the tears. But you didn’t feel remorseful. This Alpha had harmed a member of your Pack. Why should you listen if he begged for mercy? Which he was. You were hearing his pleas. His begs for forgiveness. You knew right then and there, that your Alpha, your Daddy, would have never spared this man’s life.

However, you were not your Daddy.

You weren’t Lee.

So while Preston was still there, laying on the ground, you made sure to get right down on your knees, your left hand grabbing and twisting his left hand, making sure he wouldn’t touch you. Your knees completely spread, so that you would be nice and comfy.

Lee’s pistol cocked right on his temple.

“P-Please- you’re- you’re makin’ some type of mistake-” Preston pleaded, but you narrowed your eyes.

“No,” your tone was completely cold and unmoving, “No, I don’t think I am. I smelled you on her. Are you doubting my nose, Preacher? But don’t worry, I won’t be ending your worthless life today. Be happy that I won’t shoot your goddamn cock off. And besides, you should be grateful I didn’t shoot your right hand. If I truly didn’t give a shit, I would’ve fucking murdered you and left you for the birds. They’ll eat anything. Especially pieces of shit like you. But I don’t think even birds would want to feast on you.”

"I ever see or hear you rape another goddamn Omega, I'll make sure to really kill you. Consider this a goddamn motherfucking warning."

Getting up, and ignoring his whimpers that truly made him sound like a pathetic Omega in heat, you gathered your things.

As you walked past him, back to your mother’s car, you spoke one last time.

“Don't be sad, Preacher. Ya still got a right hand. I know it’s not your dominant hand. But you have a right hand, Preacher. Use it.”

Later on in the evening, back at Knockemstiff with Lee…

Believe it or not, but Lee Bodecker did not enjoy killing.

Even though he knew he was a corrupt Sheriff.

He had heard the rumors. The whispers. Gossip flew around quickly. Especially in a small town like Knockemstiff.

And the saddest part was that they were right.

Someone like Lee, someone who looked like Lee didn’t get to the Sheriff position without a little bit of darkness in him. Lee had long accepted the fact that he had crossed the point of no return. That if there was truly a God up there, with Heaven, that he would never be permitted to enter. He already knew with all the killing, deception- that his soul was black and damned.

There was no going back now.

Lee’s eyes were gazed, focused on the chair on his right. He could smell your lingering scent on it. If he leaned back and closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could probably hear your laughter. He could probably imagine your smile too. Just the thought of that black box shoved in the top drawer of his dresser made his heart warm. Like there was something worth living for.

The sound of Sandy’s fork clanging on her ceramic plate caught Lee’s attention. He saw his little sister getting up, getting all of their empty plates, and marched right into the kitchen. Lee relaxed in his chair, hearing the sink turn on. Hearing the sounds of Sandy washing the plates.

For a moment, it was quiet. Lee could actually hear himself think. All leaned back, everything in his life nearly in peace and harmony.

“You know, I thought about her for a long time before I actually saw her again.”

Carl jumped.

Actually jumped.

He had jumped in surprise.

“We met at church, you know. Me and my Mega.” Lee was so relaxed, so deep in old memories.

“Took me two weeks to see her again. I felt so sorry for drinkin’ the rest of her slushie. But I just wanted to know why she was just so in love with drinkin’ em. For those two weeks… all I thought about her.”

Which, Lee was technically speaking the truth.

But not the full truth.

He remembered, in those two weeks before he saw you again, all those sleepless nights spent in his bed.

And now, he thought, what if he had been a good man.

A good man didn’t slick up their cock with Vaseline and jerk off to the thought and memory of kissing a defenseless, young Omega who was probably nearly a decade younger than him.

A good man didn’t masturbate himself to the near brink of death in the shower thinking about just how good your pussy would be if he fucked you for the first time.

A good man didn’t masturbate to the thought of his young Omega partner whom he was courting, cumming at the thought of how tight her cunt would be, or if blood would trickle down her legs after taking her virginity.

Lee Bodecker however, was not a good man.

At all.

Remembering his brother-in-law’s words, Carl’s face went pale as a sheet. Lee was so relaxed without a care in the world that he didn’t even have the ball to be smug about it.

The sounds of Sandy's footsteps made both of the men look up.

“I brought the tea.”

Sandy Henderson, with her hair in rollers, wearing her nightgown and her slippers adorning her feet, gave her Big Brother and her husband a look. Her gaze on Carl lingered just a bit longer. As if she was giving him one last look.

There was a clunking noise as Sandy placed the little ceramic teacups with the little covers on top of the table. Handing one to Carl and Lee. Sandy herself sat down at one of the chairs, stirring her cup with a little spoon.

When Carl took the top off of his cup and drank from it, he felt there was something wrong. Something in his gut turned and twisted.

Lee wasn’t surprised to see Carl get up from his chair, and start to cough. Nor was he surprised to see Carl claw at his throat, blue spit dripping down the corners of his mouth. Sandy sat there, staring Carl directly in the eyes as her husband breathed his last breath before he fell to the floor.

The Omega watched her Beta husband die kneeling. Like a sinner confessing their sins.

“Hold on, won’t cha Big Brother? Gotta get something from the bedroom.” Sandy got up, even pushing her chair in like a good little housewife, before clamoring her way down into the hallway, into the guest room.

Sandy came back with a camera.

Carl’s camera.

The one that he used for all of his murder victims. Lee didn’t feel a chilling in his bones. Sandy got real close, good enough to take a full-body shot. But focused on the horrified look in her husband’s eyes. Ones that looked like ones of pleading. As if he was begging for repentance.

Lee heard the camera click. Sandy shook the camera, hearing it splutter for a second before she got the photo out. An almost satisfying, chill smile stretched over her lips.

“He had a lot of photos, Lee. But this one… this one’s my personal favorite.”

Getting up from his chair, Lee looked down to inspect the dead body of his former brother-in-law.

“Ya brought the marriage papers?”

“Yup,” replied Sandy.

“And the photos?” Lee raised an eyebrow.

“Brought all of 'em,” the blonde Omega said in almost a relieved voice.

“Good. You burn them. I’ll take care of his body.”

Sandy could get on board with that.

It was a plan.

With you, late in the early morning…

It seemed, after your detour with the Preacher, that you could not sleep.

You had tossed and turned in bed all night.

Eventually, you had thrown all of your fucks out the window and got up quietly from your bed, opening your door ever so slightly so you could slip through. Padding your way down the hall, to the kitchen. Where the phone was located on the wall.

Picking up the phone, you spun the dial.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

There was a moment of silence as you heard the phone connect.

There was another moment of silence before you heard the other person on the other line pick up.

“Ello?”

“Daddy.”

Lee breathed out a sigh of relief. Your Daddy sounded sleepy.

“Did I wake ya up, Daddy?” your voice was low. You didn’t want to wake anyone up.

“No, babydoll. I wasn’t sleepin’. Had a busy night, that’s all. Couldn’t sleep, could you baby?” his voice washed over you like thick syrup. You felt as if you were on frigging Cloud Nine. You felt so warm. So safe.

“Nu-uh… couldn’t sleep. Had quite a day today, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah?”

You heard some shuffling on his end of the line. Almost like he was moving around in bed.

“Miss you a lot, Daddy. The nest don’t smell like ya.”

“I miss you too, angel baby. Nest’s not the same without cha in it.”

He heard you intake in a deep breath. And then a deep shuddering noise came from you. Hoisting his legs over so he’d be sitting, he asked, “Ya alright, Mega?”

You faltered for just a split second.

“Daddy, I… I… I need to tell you something.”

That didn’t sound good.

Whenever Lee heard those words, or “we need to talk” in the past, then usually, those weren’t good words. Nothing good ever came out of those words.

“I’m listenin’, babydoll.”

He heard you take in another deep breath before you continued.

“I… my Omega… I feel like… like my heat’s slowly comin’. It ain’t gonna come tomorrow, or any day this week, but… I… I feel like my Omega’s warnin’ me as if she’s tellin’ me the storm’s bout to come my way… and… and I never told you but…” a loose sigh escaped your lips, “my heats are… awful. Every time they happened in the past… I felt like I wanted to die. They were so painful, Daddy. I don’t… I don’t wanna scare you…”

As Lee listened to you over the phone, it made him think of his own Rut.

He thought about how the week before he had seen you in that Seven-Eleven again, how he had gone right into a Rut. You, your scent, your Omega- it had thrown him in a frenzied Rut. He had never remembered any of his Ruts hurting like that before.

But Lee Bodecker wasn’t scared. He never was like that, even when he had been younger. Never ever.

“I ain’t scared of your Omega. I can handle your Omega. I’m your Daddy, ain’t I, babydoll?”

“Y-Yeah…” your voice had turned breathy. “Y-Yeah, Daddy.”

An agreeing noise came from Lee.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Mega?”

“I think…” you chewed on your bottom lip for just a second. “I think… I think you need to come to Coal Creek.”

“What?”

Now he was concerned.

“What for?”

“It’s… it’s about Lenora. Today… earlier, I… I went to the church. I went to the Preacher and I shot him twice. With… with the pistol you gave me before my Ma and I left. He raped her, Lee. She’s pregnant with his pup. And I think… I think if I tell Arvin, that he’s going to kill him. I need your help, Daddy. Please.”

There was a beat of silence from the other line. For a moment, you thought Lee might've hung up on you.

But then, you heard it.

"Don't cha worry babydoll. San and I will come. You just stay there. Behave, ya hear me?"

You swallowed thickly.

"Y-Yeah, Daddy. I'll be on my best behavior."

"That's a good girl. Hang tight, got it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Go get some sleep, babydoll. I don't like my baby tired and cranky."

You let out a faint giggle.

"Okay, Daddy. Gonna sleep."

"Mhmmm."

There was another beat of silence.

"I love you."

Maybe it was that you were getting a little sleepy. But you smiled anyway.

"I love you too, Daddy."

And then the line went dead.

Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44, @bxnnywriting

Series taglist: @queenslvy

#lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #sebastian stan fanfiction #abo dynamics

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

holly's august extravaganza day 4: a friend in me

📍 anon - I don't know but I feel like Carlos and Nancy can have such an awesome best friend dynamic. Maybe something sad/scary regarding Nancy happens where she has to make a report at the precinct and Carlos doesn't tell anyone as she made him promise so he starts to just check on Nancy and they just develop this caring, supportive, beautiful, fun, full of banter friendship to the amusement of TK and the 126.

kept this separate from your original ask because i want to keep those other prompts you sent alongside this one for later 😊

ao3 | 2k | hurt/comfort, brief references to gun violence, mostly just carlos and nancy being besties

Carlos has never seen Nancy look so small.

She’s sitting hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, hands seemingly moving of their own volition to tear the empty styrofoam cup in front of her to shreds. As soon as Carlos had seen her being escorted into the precinct, shaking like a leaf and clutching her coat like a lifeline, he’d persuaded the officer with her to let him take over the case. His association with the 126 is well known so the officer had been reluctant, but Carlos had managed to wear him down, saying that he doesn’t really know Nancy that well.

And it’s—it’s not exactly a full lie. Through their hangs and TK’s stories, he’s coming to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But of her personal life, Carlos knows next to nothing; she mentioned a sister a few weeks ago, and TK delights in teasing her about her growing crush on Marjan, but that’s about it.

He needs to make more of an effort, he decides. When they’re anywhere else but a police station.

Carlos knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence before entering the room, sending her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Nancy visibly relaxes at the sight of him and she drops the remains of her cup, though Carlos doesn’t miss the continuing tremble to her hands.

“Hey Nancy,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite her. “How are you doing?”

Nancy’s lips twitch, the corners barely curving into the beginnings of a wry smile. She breathes out shakily, meeting Carlos’s eyes for the briefest second before staring back down at the table. “I’m not great,” she answers, and for her to admit to that… Well, Carlos suspects it’s not a regular occurrence.

He nods, reluctantly pulling out his notebook and pen, hesitating before flipping to the next blank page. Nancy tracks his movements, resignation clearly etched all over her features. Carlos glances at the two-way mirror—not that it does him any good—then reaches across the table to take Nancy’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he murmurs. “If you need more time, just say the word and I’ll leave. Or if you’d prefer to talk to someone you don’t know, we can do that too. Anything you need.”

The sudden tightness of Nancy’s grip is unexpected, as is the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing slowly for a few seconds. Slowly, her hold on Carlos begins to loosen until her hand is slack in his, then she draws both hands into her lap and straightens in her chair. When her eyes reopen, she seems more like the Nancy Carlos knows—strong, confident, assertive—though there’s still clearly an undercurrent of fear underneath it all.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Carlos bites back an are you sure and settles for clicking his pen, his smile unwavering. “Can you run me through what happened, exactly?” he asks. “Take your time.”

A second or two passes, then Nancy nods, her voice steady when she speaks. “I was restocking the bus at the end of shift. I was alone; Captain Vega was in her office and TK was with the others in the showers—he did try to help but he’d had to go into a fire on our last call to help a patient and the smell of smoke was giving me a headache, so I told him to go.”

Carlos pauses in his note-taking, mentally filing that last piece of information away for follow-up as soon as he sees his boyfriend again. Judging by the amused quirk to Nancy’s eyebrow, she’s fully aware of where his mind has gone, so Carlos clears his throat and motions for her to continue, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

“Like I said, I was alone. I didn’t mind it; it was kind of relaxing, you know? Then this guy appeared from nowhere and pointed a gun at me, saying if I called out or turned on the siren or anything, he’d shoot. I thought—” She inhales sharply, her knuckles going white on the tabletop and her jaw clenching tightly. Her voice sounds different when she next speaks, more controlled, as though forcing each word out. “I thought it was happening again. I thought he was going to take me somewhere, make me his personal pet paramedic, something like that.

“Turns out, he just wanted drugs. I gave him what we had on the rig and he seemed satisfied, so I figured he’d shoot me anyway ‘cause I’d seen his face, right? He didn’t—obviously—but it looked like he was considering it.” Nancy pauses and flicks her gaze up at Carlos, biting her lip. “I think he might have done it,” she admits quietly, “but he got spooked by one of the guys making noise so he just bolted. I’m not sure how long it was between that and TK coming back and finding me. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s okay. We can check the cameras at the station. With luck, that should get us an ID, maybe a license plate if he drove. I think that’s almost everything; just one more question, if that’s okay. Can you tell me what you gave him exactly?”

Nancy nods. “Morphine, Ativan, tramadol… I’d have to check stocks for the exact amounts.”

“We’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” Carlos taps his pen on the pages before flipping his notebook shut and leaning across the table again. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Speaking as a friend and not a cop, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with, let me know.”

She smiles wanly. “I’m okay. I just want to go home and forget all this ever happened.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

Carlos half-expects her to brush him off, but she just nods and allows him to escort her back through the precinct and out to her car. He dithers awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Nancy turns to him, one hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Carlos. For real. I have the feeling it wasn't a coincidence that you were the one in that room with me.”

The tips of Carlos’s ears go pink as he finds himself caught out. “That, uh… That would not be inaccurate.”

“Well, thanks.” She pulls open the car door and Carlos takes a step back, wanting to wait until she’s safely away to go back inside. Nancy ducks as if to get in, then pauses and straightens again, biting her lip as she looks back at him.

“Hey, Carlos?” she says. “Can you do me a favour and not tell the others? Not even TK. They— They know vaguely what happened, but I’d prefer it if the details and, uh, some of the other stuff I told you could be kept between us.”

He agrees immediately, just grateful that she trusts him enough to handle this for her. “No-one will know any more than they need to,” he promises, which seems to relieve her. She thanks him again, then gets in the car and drives away, Carlos watching after her with one hand raised in farewell.

It grows from there.

It’s not intentional exactly, but one text to check up on her soon turns into a steady stream of messages, stories and jokes and even the occasional meme passing back and forth between them. Carlos especially appreciated Nancy's carefully curated collection of dirt on TK, which, as a concerned boyfriend, it is his duty to know. Many a conversation has been spent griping about TK's accident prone ways or sighing over his latest mishap.

Lovingly, of course.

Nancy, 15.48: you’ll never guess what happened this time

Carlos, 16.22: ?

In answer, he receives a picture of a dejected-looking TK sprawled on the floor with Buttercup’s front paws squarely resting on his chest. Buttercup’s tongue is lolling out, a wide grin on his face, and in the background stand the rest of the crew. All of them also seem to have their phones pointed towards TK—probably the reason TK looks so down, as Carlos knows his boyfriend couldn’t be upset with Buttercup to save his life.

Nancy, 16.26: he thought he’d try to teach buttercup some tricks. turns out, dog trainers exist for a reason

Carlos has to stifle a laugh—technically, he is supposed to be working—but his attempt at being subtle is thwarted when his phone repeatedly pings with similar texts and photos from Paul, Marjan, and Mateo. He screenshots the sudden influx of notifications and sends it to Nancy before saving every single photo.

Nancy responds with a laughing emoji and a promise to keep him updated.

Not all of their conversations are about TK, naturally.

Carlos, 19.10: I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her

Nancy, 19.12: i do talk to her. every shift, actually

Carlos, 19.13: Nancy

Nancy, 19.13: carlos

Nancy, 19.14: i don’t even know if she’s into women, alright? it’s not like i can just march up and ask, that’s like waving a banner saying ‘hey, i’m in love with you’ in her face

Carlos, 19.16: Oh, we’re talking about love now, are we?

Nancy, 19.17: can it, reyes

Carlos, 19.20: Noted. Look, take it from someone who’s been navigating gay relationships in Texas his whole life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Ask her for coffee, test the waters, see where it leads. You never know, it might work out. I mean, look at me

Nancy, 19.24: wow, way to rub your happiness in my face 😑

(Carlos doesn’t find out if she follows his advice, but he does notice her and Marjan showing up to their hangs together)

(Nancy does not appreciate his smugness)

Without even realising, they become a formidable team. This fact is highlighted one game night about three months after the incident, when Nancy and Marjan blow into his and TK’s house, a determined glint in both their eyes.

“We’re switching up the teams,” Marjan declares, much to TK’s outrage.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy continues, “we’re tired of losing to you guys. You’re like, freakishly good at board games and it’s not fair. Plus, we have to watch you both being all lovey all the time when you’re on the same team and it’s exhausting. We want to see you being competitive for once.”

TK pouts, but Carlos just shrugs when he looks to him for backup. “It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling at Nancy and Marjan. TK still looks put out, so he leans in close and half-murmurs, “C’mon babe. How about a prize for the winner?”

TK perks up considerably at the suggestion, and, going by the twin looks of despair on Nancy and Marjan’s faces, they caught both the comment and the innuendo. Marjan groans and Nancy raises her eyes skyward, as if pleading for divine intervention.

“This was a great idea, actually,” TK says, grinning. He quirks an eyebrow at Nancy. “You and me, Nance?”

That seems to shake Nancy out of her silent prayers for strength. “Uh, no. I’m with Carlos.” To emphasise the point, she strides forward and grabs Carlos’s arm, dragging him to the couch. He nudges her gently when they sit, smirking at the disgruntled way she digs into the snack bowl.

“You did say you wanted to see us being competitive.”

“Shut up.”

In the end, TK ends up paired with Mateo, and Marjan with Paul. It’s clear from the outset who’s going to win—Nancy and Carlos dominate the board, and not even Paul’s master strategy is enough to catch up with them.

They win by a comfortable margin, fist-bumping in celebration. There’s a general air of bemusement in the room, and when Carlos looks round at the others, he finds four pairs of eyes fixed on them.

“What?”

“Since when have you two been such a good team?” Paul asks, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

Carlos shrugs, sharing a smile with Nancy. “Guess we just are.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #marjan marwani #tk strand #tarlos #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #📍 anon

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spade-riddles · 4 years

Text

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes.

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming.

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable.

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships.

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night.

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet.

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case.

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch.

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first.

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it.

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised.

Just my two cents.

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

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queenkrissy11-fandomaccount · 3 years

Text

Angel - Bucky X Reader

Between the dark sky and the gravel beneath your worn out shoes, running for safety wasn’t exactly easy.

You take the next right, the gravel sliding with your feet as you try not to lose any speed. Dead end. Shit. The foot steps behind you get louder.

“Looks like you’re out of luck, princess.”

How do you always find yourself in these situations? You’re an heiress for hell’s sake. You shouldn’t be in dark alleys in the sketchy part of town in the middle of the night.

Lucy would never be in this situation. She would have listened to mom. She would have put on the pink gown, no matter how hideous, and then stayed at mom’s side the entire gala. She definitely wouldn’t have brought a change of clothes and snuck out ten minutes in.

By the way tonight is going it doesn’t matter. You’re going to end up the same as her no matter how different you lived your life. Six feet under.

Think Y/N

You pick up a rock from next to the dumpster.

“Stay away from me.”

He smiles but the scar through his face makes it lopsided. “Or what? You’ll get me with that rock?” He draws a gun from his waistband.

You didn’t understand what the big deal was. So what you ended up in the wrong room at the bar? You could tell they weren’t up to any good but you couldn’t tell what exactly they were up to.

You throw the rock and he fires. It pierces your shoulder. You can feel it but it’s not how you imagined. The adrenaline must really be pumping.

The already dirty white tshirt quickly stains red.

A second set of steps creeps behind the attacker. And then a third.

You are officially, royally screwed. “Stay back!” You take a couple steps away from them, your eyes bouncing between the men. Cold, rough brick meets your back.

The edges of your vision become blurry as the warm, thick blood continues to spread down your body.

The first man is only a matter of feet away now, he grabs the front of your shirt. Clawing at his grip does nothing. No surprise, you can hardly feel your right arm, let alone use it.

His arm pulls back and then strikes you in the face. At this rate, you’ll be with Lucille in no time

“I’m sorry mom,” your voice sounds pathetic but you can only imagine how she’ll react in a couple hours. When the officers come knocking on the front door, she’ll have flashbacks to the night they found Lucy. She’ll have to go to another daughter’s funeral. Face all the grief again, but this time completely alone. You should have listened. You ahould have been the perfect daughter she wanted and then lost with Lucy. You were here second chance and didn’t measure up.

Suddenly your feet find the ground and the rest of your body soon after. You can barely get your eyes open but the scene in front of you is too much to let them close again. The man that was holding you up only a moment ago was on the ground with a very large man on top of him delivering blows. He goes limp and the newest addition stands up. Behind him the two other men lay unconscious. Or dead? You aren’t sure.

The stranger is now looking directly at you. He could be an angel. Or you could be delirious. Either way, he was fine.

He comes closer and you’re met with the most brilliant blue eyes.

“Hey kid, it’s going to be okay. Do you know your name?”

“Are you an angel?”

The pretty stranger draws his eyebrows together, “What?”

His shoulder length brown hair looks so soft. “Am I dead?”

He cracks a hint of a smile, “No, but we do need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible.”

He hoists you into his arms. His very, very large arms. As you come down from the adrenaline high, you are suddenly very aware of the gaping hole in your shoulder.

You wake up in a bright white room. You can hear the machine checking your vitals.

“Y/N?” The chair scrapes the floor as your mom jumps from her chair, “baby?”

She’s pulling you into the tightest hug of your life as tears pool in her eyes.

“Mom, I’m okay,” You try pulling away and are suddenly very aware of your shoulder.

“You scared the hell out of me!” She’s yellong now. Great. “What were you doing! Why did you leave?”

The nights events come flooding back in, “Wait! Where is he?”

She takes a breath, “Who?”

“The man who saved me! Where is he? I have to thank him.” You slide off the side of the bed, pulling the tube stuck to you along.

“Y/N! Sit down! What are you talking about?” Your mom tries to force you back onto the bed. “No one saved you. The nurses found you collapsed in the lobby.”

“He, he left?” It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

A few hours later you were deemed stable enough to get ready to leave.

While changing you can’t help but stare at your reflection. Your blonde hair is still clumped with blood and you can already tell you’ll have a nasty scar once the bullet wound heals up. Bullet wound. You were shot. Wth.

You shake it off and change into the clean clothes your mom handed you. The dirty, worn out and bloody ones from last night were in the trash.

For a few months you did as you were told. You were given a second chance at life and tried to be the perfect daughter you weren’t before.

It was only a matter of time before you started looking for your hero, or angel as you referred to him. You didn’t have much to go on. Beautiful blue eyes. Scruff. Long, brown hair. Toned build. The lack of information didn’t stop you. You looked for years, even going as far as hiring a private investigator, or two. Okay, maybe five.

It got you no where. The only place you could find him was your dreams. After the first few years you started to think you might have only imagined him. It was hard to move on when you could remember exactly how he smelt and how it felt to be cradled in his arms. And how were you supposed to forget a hunk that swooped in and saved the day? That was a prince charming level story.

You phone vibrates and you glance down from the vanity. The car had arrived. One more quick glance at yourself to make sure everythings in order. You’re taken aback by how much you look like Lucy. It made sense. She was always put together like this and you’re now as old as she was. You shake your head and grab your clutch.

The car ride was quiet but it gives you a chance to prepare for the night ahead. Your mother isgoing to be the talk of the evening, she recently received another award for her developments in the medical field.

You took a different path in life. Instead of medical developments, you made advances in the technological field. You were considered on the same level as Tony Stark, however, you worked under an alias. You got the profit without the recognition.

Your mother, and only company for the evening, had been swept into another crowd of profound doctors so you took it as a que to step back and get yourself at the drink.

As you wait for the bartender to return with your cocktail, someone takes the seat next to you.

You spare him a glance, “Angel?”

He smirks, “Listen, doll, I appreciate the creativity but I’m not looking to be picked up tonight.”

“No, thats not-what?” You’re stumbling over your words. “You-you saved me.” You slip the satin dress down, revealinf the nasty scar on your shoulder.

“Alley girl?” Recognition spreads across his face.

You give a short laugh, “You get angel and I get alley girl. That seems unfair.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here. I wouldn’t have guessed this to be your scene based on our last encounter.”

You give a small eye roll, “Getting shor in shady alleys are more of a weekend thing for me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m, uh, here supporting a friend.” He glances to a cluster if men and you notice Tony Stark. What are the odds?

“You have no idea how hard you are to find.” You can’t help but smile. So many years of looking and you accidentally find him at the bar of a dinner party for millionaires.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” That smirk turned you into putty. What was it about this man? He sure seemed like an angel. Your very own prince charming.

#james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky one shot

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excitedlysuffering · 4 years

Text

Green With Envy

It’s past 2am and my eyes hurt so it’s unedited for now sorry y’all😅

Original Request (from Wattpad account): What makes the boys jealous, if possible?

Guest stars: Sasori and Sai!

Masterlist

Naruto~

Oh, this boy… he’s too oblivious sometimes he doesn’t even know to be jealous. He was at a hot spring with friends once and someone says, “(Y/N) is so hot…” Naruto just grinned and said, “Yeah, she really is.”

But that doesn’t mean he won’t protect your honor. If someone says something a little too… risque like ‘Yeah, I’d tap that’ for example, get ready for more Narutos than you can count all charging you with a Rasengan.

He will not stand other guys cozying up to you. He’s the one who should be blessed with your hugs and cuddles. Won’t hesitate to cause a scene and yell to the entire world that he loves you and won’t let any other guy make a pass at you.

“Naruto, you didn’t need to go that far! You blasted him through three walls!” He’s endearing, really.

Sasuke~

Is jealousy an Uchiha thing or just a Sasuke thing? One of life’s many mysteries. Anywho, unlike Naruto, the second your name is brought up in conversation, he goes on guard and he’s listening closely.

If anything is said that he deems inappropriate, whether it be disparaging or otherwise, Sasuke had better be held back or he just might punch you into next week.

“Sasuke, calm down! He just said I had good taste in clothes!”

Even though he can easily get jealous, he knows the importance of freedom and he trusts you. He won’t come guns blazing (or sword slashing rather) and drag you away unless you need it of course.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re dating your dad or something. He’s very blunt and if he becomes uneasy with the way another male is talking to you, he’ll let said male know. Maybe after scowling with his Sharingan activated, however.

Neji~

Neji doesn’t really get jealous per se, more like offended on your behalf. Because of his upbringing, which taught him manners and the utmost respect, he really can’t understand talking about girls like they’re objects? Will never refer to a woman as ‘hot’ or anything like that.

If someone even dares speak of you like that, (even if you’re not necessarily together yet) he will fight them, and they will experience the 64 palms technique.

He especially hates people in your personal space. He really does trust you, just not others. Is not afraid to embarrass someone on your behalf. Half the time his glare is enough to scare them off, but some people are just clueless. (They wake up in the hospital)

“Neji! You can’t just throw me over your shoulder and leave! And that guy looked like he had seen a ghost?!” Needless to say, even cool, calm, and collected Neji has his limits.

Shikamaru~

Shika is too laid back to get jealous over little things. Somewhat like Neji, he doesn’t get jealous. He might feel threatened on your behalf, but never jealous. He can trust you with his life why shouldn’t he trust you with your relationship?

However, if someone is clearly harassing you or just generally making you uncomfortable, he will not hesitate to step in and make them leave. He won’t resort to physical violence (too much work), but he will intimidate them or put his genius to use and play some kind of trick on them.

He honestly has endless patience and at the same time no patience? Patience with you if you’re having a pleasant conversation with someone, but will go from 0-100 (or 50, really, anything more is a lot of effort) real quick.

“Shika, that guy thought he was really paralyzed, thanks to your shadow possession!” Being jealous is a waste of time, but clever revenge is always a treat for Shika.

Kiba~

So. Jealous. So. Easily. Kiba is naturally animalistic (in the best way) and just like a dog, can be very possessive. If explicitly asked, he will try to tone down his jealous fits, but will still be protective. If he does have free reign, however, oh boy…

No chill at all, whatsoever. Whether it’s absolutely destroying the object of his rage or just simply making out with you right there. No matter how annoyed he may get, he respects you with every fiber of his being and would never tell you to change or try to control you. He wouldn’t ever embarrass you (unless Kiba and Akamaru pummeling a room full of guys is embarrassing).

Just let him FIND OUT someone is making you feel the slightest bit of unease. One second, they’re chatting you up and then BAM! There’s a flash of white and a huge dog ready to maul them.

“Kiba, what do you mean they all looked at me for too long?! We walked in the door, of course, they turned to look!”

Gaara~

Gaara is a bit of a conundrum, but in a way that makes sense? Like, he doesn’t feel the need to get jealous of guys because when you leave, he’s going to be kissing you goodnight, and he’s the one who gets to spoil you.

However, he will get jealous of little things. Oh, you’ve spent a good amount of time playing with an animal/pet? Be prepared to walk in on Gaara giving them a stern lecture on stealing you from them. Gaara knows he has any potential suitors beat, but tiny adorable animals and children? In his mind, he can never be too cautious.

He gets a little pouty but that can easily be cured with cuddles, sometimes with that evil little pet that stole your affections from him. He can never stay jealous for long, he views it as an unproductive waste of time. He could be actively trying to get your attention, but instead, he’s going to be sulking in a corner? Yeah, no.

“Gaara! Stop scolding my cat, that’s not doing anything!”

Sai~

On the rare occasion that this cinnamon roll gets jealous, he’s confused and shocked. Like just imagine the surprised Pikachu face and that’s him. He knows what jealousy is, he can identify it just fine, but he doesn’t know why he’s jealous.

You aren’t doing anything, all you did was laugh at someone else’s jokes, but still… do you find them funnier than him? Are you going to leave him because he’s not that funny?! Cue the slow onset into insanity… Poor Sai is losing his mind to paranoia and made-up scenarios.

Will most certainly drag you away (gently) from whoever is taking your attention and leave. He doesn’t even bother with a fake smile, they don’t deserve it. He’ll explain to you calmly even though he’s panicking on the inside. Once he is back to normal he’ll show you his nearest artwork.

“What the-! Sai, you can’t just draw caricatures on people’s car!” You don’t even want to know how he figures out which car is theirs...

Kakashi~

Too cocky to be jealous. He has the right to be though because one glance at him without his face mask can cause instant pregnancy. Anywho, he knows you love him and some guy trying to hit on you like some high school douche isn’t going to change that.

He does like to intervene, however, just to flex like ‘yeah, I’m the boyfriend, now get lost’.

He’s not big on PDA, so he won’t start kissing you to ward off strangers, but he will wrap on arm around you or hold your hand and ask who your ‘friend’ is.

When there’s that one stubborn person who won’t take a hint, Kakashi doesn’t mind rocking someone’s world or getting kicked out, he needed to perfect that one offense technique anyways. He’s pretty laid back though, so it has to be somewhat drastic for this though, plus he knows you can handle yourself.

“A thousand years of death?! Isn’t it weird to be poking old men in the butt?!

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

Pfft. Who does he have to be jealous of? He’s a god among mortals, after all. To him, you’re a goddess and as such you belong with someone like him, not the peasants around you.

But on the offhand chance that someone doesn’t heed his godly status, he will not hesitate to pull you into his side and yell ‘Almighty Push’ and totally obliterate that loser. (A/N: Holy crap I think that needs to be a one-shot cuz, wow, Pein being all protective is making me swoon?)

If it’s not a big deal, he’ll easily let you take care of it. If you’re strong enough to catch Pein’s attention, you’re more than strong enough to deal with some lowlife. That doesn’t mean, however, that they won’t feel his wrath too.

If you ever want to witness a true royal rumble, dare someone to mess with Pein’s S/O. It’d be an epic tag team match (slaughter, really) for the ages. One would d be surprised how quick he can lose his cool when it comes to you.

“Pein, that’s the fifth time this month! Kakuzu is going to murder me if I ask for money to fix this wall!”

Deidara~

Need I even say it? Jealous boy all the way. You’re his favorite masterpiece so why should let an uncultured swine who doesn’t even understand your worth touch you? Rhetorical question, he wouldn’t.

He is not above fighting or placing a bomb on someone who gives you one too many glances. He’d make sure they knew it wasn’t art, they weren’t good enough for that, before blowing the offender up.

No one and he means no one gets to talk bad about his S/O. If someone insults you in his presence they might as well as swallowed one of his explosives and trusted him not to blow them up.

Will one 100% hide you from view if you look too appealing. He thinks you look ravishing, but he’s the only one who should be able to think that, in his opinion. Don’t worry, no one’s ever gotten close enough to harass you with Dei around. His one-eyed scowl is a great deterrent.

“Deidara! You blew up my favorite restaurant! He didn’t even say anything to me!”

Sasori~

Would rather die before admitting he was jealous. As adamant about not being jealous as he is about art being eternal. That’s not to say that he won’t take action though. He will use chakra strings to make the perpetrator walk away, meanwhile making them bump into literally everything in the general vicinity.

The two of you don’t leave the base all that often so it’s unusual to see an envious Sasori action, but it’s a real treat when it happens. After he deals with whatever idiot crossed him, he’ll be a bit more affectionate that day/night.

Not huge things, but instead of working on puppets all night, he’d be more apt to hold you that night. Average people hitting on you make him insecure because he realizes he’s not that great at normal relationships but he still doesn’t want to lose you. That feeds into his jealousy and he figures the only way to get rid of it is to make sure those other guys can’t offer anything he doesn’t have.

“Sasori! If you wanted a hug, you could’ve said that instead of treating that guy like a ball inside of a pinball machine!”

#naruto x reader #sasuke x reader #neji x reader #shikamaru x reader #kiba x reader #gaara x reader #sai x reader #kakashi x reader #pein x reader #deidara x reader #sasori x reader #naruto scenarios #jealousy #naruto shippuden #request

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spices-and-cherries · 3 years

Text

Rampage (Chapter 3)

JAMES BOND X READER

Chapter 3 is finally out! Is it rough? Yes. Is it months late? Yes. Do I care? No. Why? Because I’m having fun writing it! This chapter does feel a little rushed even though I tried to draw it out. I dunno. Is he too ooc?

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: violence, death, car chase, car accident, alcohol, angst

Masterlist:

Chapter 3: Parcel

James had been too preoccupied to bother following the movements of the remaining men, but he had heard whispers a year ago about a club being formed with some very similar faces affiliated with it.

What if Keery's husband hadn't died afterall? And this was some sort of sick and twisted revenge plan?

For the first time in a long while, James had genuinely no idea what to do.

"Hey." A hand waved in front of his face. "Hey!" He blinked as his eyes focused on the woman in front of him. "Are you okay?" He runs a hand through his hair.

"That paper could be the key to save someone's life. Just... Let me look at it and I'll give it back. I promise."

After a long pause, she holds the paper out in front of her. Taking it, he quickly reads it. Like he thought, it was a receipt involving some sort of business deal with The End Club. Arms trading?

"How did this get into the hands of Slane?"

"That's what I want to figure out too." The woman snatches the paper back.

"What's your connection to them?"

"...Why should I tell you?"

"Depending on what's going on here, I can help you."

"It's a secret." She turned and started for the door.

"Judging by the fact that you have a gun and sneaking about a place like this, you're out for blood, but the thing is, you don't really know how to shoot, do you?"

"...I don't see how it's any of your business!" She stopped, her back turned to him and her fists clenched.

"Well, if we were to run into each other, which we undoubtedly will, I don't exactly want to be shot on accident in the crosshairs." He walked towards her. "You help me by telling me everything I need to know and I'll make sure your bullet hits the mark."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Because I have a strong feeling we're looking for the same people."

-----

"I know a place where we can get a booth." The girl - Violet - pulled out of her parking spot, apparently dead-set on getting a drink. He, for once, could very much do without. Drinking vodka martini's were just the distraction he very much did not need at the moment. But he needed information and was now working on someone else's time. Maybe the drinks will chase the worry away.

Had they hurt you? Did you get fed? Had they taken advantage of you? Were you injured?

A finger snapped in front of his face.

"Wake up! We're here!" When he got out of the car, the cold air hit him right in the face. It brought him out of his little spell - or at least enough to make him think coherently.

"...Vodka martini. Don't care how."

"And a chocolate martini, please."

"A what, miss?"

"Make that two vodka martini's." He butt in, ordering for her.

"What the hell?"

"I should be asking you that."

"What? Chocolate martinis are good."

"And for children."

"...So what will it be?" Asked the waiter, looking confused.

"Just get me a martini." Violet sighed, glaring at James before going back to the menu. "Could you please add mozzarella sticks to that?" The waiter nodded and rushed away. She clasped her hands and looked him straight in the eye. "So. What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"...My father used to work for a meat company." She leaned back in her seat and put her hands in her lap. "At one point, when I was really little, the company was taken over by a new owner and they renamed the place to End Club Meats & Co. My father - being one of the engineers or whatever - was one of the people they kept around. I guess his type are hard to come around. As the years went by, he seemed to be home less and less until one day, some men knocked on our door and informed us that he had died in a work accident." She paused when the drinks were set on the table. "A few years ago, I was contacted by one of his coworkers who claimed that there was more to it than that. Apparently, he'd been called to the head office and never came out. I've been trying to find out who did it and why ever since."

"And Slane?"

"I found his name somewhere and thought he was connected somehow. I was trying to find out how when you found me."

"What are you going to do now?

"Uh, trace the receipts back to who was involved and kill them. Of course, that's easier said than done considering I have no idea what I'm doing." James briefly wondered how she hadn't been killed in her sleep already.

"Are you familiar with the name Stone? He's a henchman of sorts."

"...No? I don't believe so. Now, can you please tell me what any of this has to do with you? I'd like to know my protector a little more." There was an edge of sarcasm in her voice that he simply didn't feel like humoring.

"I work for her Majesty as an agent, meaning-"

"You're a copper. Got it. Move on." He really didn't like her tone.

"Meaning, that I go after people in the underground who are like Slane and worse. A few years ago, I had to track down this man named Keery. His drug trafficking organization had a headquarters in France, disguised as a very large butcher warehouse." A look of realization dawned on Violet's face. "Keery died with many of his subordinates, but I seemed to have overlooked one."

"So the missing person you were talking about is the one you... forgot?"

"No, not exactly." He took a sip of his drink. The burn cleared his mind a little. "My life expectancy is, statistically speaking, low and..." James paused, realizing that he was talking more about himself than he normally would. It felt wrong.

"And...?"

"And it's the same for those close to me." It felt wrong, but he found it liberating at the same time.

"So something happened?" Violet's voice became soft.

"Yes." James rubbed his face with his hands, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion.

"So let me guess, the End Club is run by someone who wants to take revenge on you by taking this... person away? And now you need to find them?"

"Yes."

"...Normally I wouldn't do this, I still can't tell if you're lying or not, but let me take you back to my place. We can come up with a plan and get some rest..." James looked up at her incredulously. "What? I got this far - you're not getting rid of me until all this is over. Besides, I have my own bone to pick..."

-----

"- And that's the couch where you'll be sleeping. I'll be right back - I need to get you something to sleep in..." She disappeared into her room. After several minutes of muffled cussing and the sounds of things falling over, she came out. "I hope this is okay. It's all I got." She tossed a bundle of clothes at him. It was a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt.

"Thanks."

"No prob-" She was interrupted by a beeping noise at the door.

"Ms. Dunby, there's a parcel for you downstairs."

"Shit. Okay, I'll be back. I forgot that I had something coming." She hurried to put some shoes on and rushed out the door. At first, James thought nothing of it, but when he checked the time, realization dawned on him. It's almost two in the morning. Who would be getting a parcel at this time of the night?

Grabbing his gun, he ran out into the hallway and hopped three stairs at a time in the stairwell. Violet wasn't in the lobby. He hears a car door slam out on the street. He caught a glimpse of Violet's face pressed against the window of an expensive black car just as it drove away.

Without a second thought, he ran out into the street and, seeing Violet’s old camry, he punched the window to let himself in. After making quick work of hotwiring the vehicle, it came to life.

Tires screeching, he chased the black car through tight alleyways and around sharp turns, when suddenly they were on a main road with surprisingly little traffic.

He stepped on the gas.

In seconds he was within feet of the vehicle. The driver tried to swerve in an effort to out maneuver him, but James didn't have the energy for playing the race game.

In a burst of speed, he ran his car into the back of the black car - hard - and pushed it so it scrapped against the guardrails along the side of the road, sparks flying. They came to a bumpy stop when they plowed into a lamppost.

He clambered out as soon as he could, stumbling over a scrap of junk, and made his way - gun out - to the wrecked car. The driver seemed to be dead, but he couldn't-

"RAGHH!" A big figure slammed open the car door and leapt on him. He flew to the ground with what felt like a ton right on top of him. His gun spun away, leaving him defenseless. A fist slammed into his face. Not having a lot of room to move, James jabbed the man's neck as hard as he could. It gave him a few moments to get the man off of him and identify his attacker.

It, with some stroke of luck, was Stone. The very man he was looking for.

Stone got up, spat, and then threw himself into his stomach - forcing him back down to the ground. The two of them rolled around on the asphalt. One second his face was being ground into the road and another he'd be holding Stone in a choke hold.

"Where did you take them?" James growls, kneeing Stone in the gut.

"Who the fuck are you talking about?" Stone's big hand slammed James's face into the ground. His ears were ringing.

"(Y/N)!"

"Huh. You must be James Bond." Stone smiled, but it was wiped away with James's elbow. James managed to roll away and get back up.

"In the flesh."

"Well, I'm afraid to say that I won't tell you shit." Stone barreled into him again, but this time James was ready and managed to keep his feet grounded. He kneed Stone again and again - slowly letting his frustration loose.

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to make you." Stone's grip on him tightened as he knocked James's feet out.

"Not like this, you won't." After a couple hard punches, Stone gripped his neck. His hands scrambled, trying to get Stone off of him. He was beginning to see double. "I'm starting to feel sorry for ya." Stone laughed. "Don't worry - your partner is just fine. They're getting fed - but that was as of yesterday."

A shot rings out, the grip on his neck leaves, and Stone's shoulder is bleeding. But James doesn't notice.

All he can see is red.

What a big man. A scary looking man. He was the big scary looking man that took you. Where are you? Why won't Stone tell him where you are?

His fists are burning.

And then suddenly Stone is under him, saying something. He watches as his nose slowly crumples, as his teeth were turning red, as his eyes became glossy, as -

"James!" Hands are on his shoulder, nails digging in. He growls as his fist seamlessly gets ready to strike. A clammy hand wraps around his wrist. "JAMES!" Violet is looking at him with frantic eyes. "He's already dead, so stop it!" He looks back down. Stone's face was almost unrecognizable.

Had he done that?

-----

Whoops. Angsty Bond feels... Anyway, this is the first series I’ve written in a long while and the first I’ve ever written for Bond, so feel free to give me some feedback! Just be nice about it - I’m sensitive. Also! I'm in the middle of reading Layercake. When I’m done I’ll watch the movie - so look out for some headcanons on our nameless protagonist in the near future! If y’all have any ideas, feel free to send them my way!

- Simpy

#james bond x reader #james bond #x reader #agent 007 #007 #daniel craig #angst #series #fanfiction #fanfic #bond girl #established relationship #action #movie characters

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hughiecampbelle · 3 years

Text

Instinct (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)

((TFATWS SPOILERS))

Character/s: Bucky

Word Count: 1,110

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: I haven't written in over a month and I'm scared it shows 💔 I'm really unsure with writing lately, I thought about not posting this, but I feel like I owe it big time. This was supposed to be something different, but I can't say I hate the direction it took. There aren't any major spoilers, it just follows the general plot, but I figured better to be safe than sorry. I hope you like it, and that I'm not too "out of the game" or bad at this lol. Feedback is always appreciated.Thank you for being so patient with my break my loves, it means the world 💜💖💜

Summary: He wants to move on, you don't 💕

Gif Credit: @captain-james / link :)

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 / WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

There is a static between you. One that is ruthless, hostile, sharp. It makes your gums bleed to describe it, tasting nothing but iron, bitterness, a resentment that is otherwise untouchable by any other creature. A hatred towards the mirror, towards your own skin and bone, your entire fucking existence. Catching his eyes, even for a second, is staring into the sun. Blinding. Aggressive. Burning, until every inch of you is set aflame, itching to turn and run, to tear apart, to scream. Scream until there is nothing of you left. A reminder of what was, what is, and what will never be. What neither of you can go back to, as fitting as the mold may seem, as secure as that title may be, as comforting as that role used to be, he refuses, and you follow along. Bury the body, he thinks that will make him someone new, someone worth everyone else's time. Do not flinch when they say your name, when they whisper every awful thing you did, when they tease you, leaving the door open, enough so for the light to peak through. An escape plan, you think. You hope. A way back to the life before, where your mind was someone else's, when the world was cruel and you were allowed to be cruel back. He does not see it that way, slamming that door shut, locking it from the outside, and swallowing the key.

One word, an invitation, that's all you need. The risk is great, but the urge is greater. Split yourself open. Self destruct. Skip the steps, skip what they insist is healing when all they do is rip open old wounds. Skip the apologies, the sob story, the introduction. The look in their eyes never flinches, no matter how many times you beg. Why bother? Return to what they wanted, needed, feel a certain belonging you could never get back walking into the civilian world.

Your footprints made of blood, a sticky red trail left wherever you go. That's what they see, and they don't bother hiding it. The disgust. The references you don't understand, too old to laugh, to sigh, to roll your eyes. The world moved on without you, spinning faster than you remember, and you are left to catch up. They have their lists, their paper and pencil, all the recommendations one could offer. It would be endearing, maybe, but you have nothing to offer. None of the energy to play catch up. None of the want. Time slips through your fingers, wasted, growing spoiled, mocking you. You have better things to do than watch a movie, more important things, things that filled you with purpose, no matter how sick.

You would have been disgusted. Horrified. Speechless. You would have hated yourself more than you already do. But you are older now, far more experienced, hardened by a life you never could have expected. Learned to want it, though. An animal secured by captivity does not know how to survive in the wild. You were never equipped to live like this: free. The knives, the guns, the special ways in which you read even the smallest of actions, turning people into pages, an open book for you to skim, before placing back on the shelf.

You adapted, grew to fit what they wanted, who they wanted, until you too loved what you were. Dangerous, powerful, unfeeling. The numb became a high to chase, unsatisfied by anything else. Where he mirrored a version of yourself you left in the past, you embraced this role. The damage was done. The bodies put to rest. None of which you could take back, nor make up for. He sought redemption. You wouldn't dare. It wasn't by your choice, that much you could admit, but you could feel it, from the fits bullet to the last, you were never meant to be anything else. As gruesome as you had been, uncaring, quick, but painful, you would be nothing else. Assassin. Killer. Murderer.

They say it like it's a bad thing.

The guilt eats you alive, chews you up and spits you out, shattering your very being as you wake, each night, from another nightmare. The aggression, the shame, all of it you share as fairly as you can, and yet, you wear it so differently, making you more distinct than you could ever explain. The only other person in the world who has seen you at your lowest, your highest, faced what you have, seen what you've seen, and you can't stand to look at him. Not for the wounds he sewed up, his eyes falling on your broken body, nor is the sobs, the pleas, the prayers he heard escape you in moments of desperation. Not because he knows the way you scream, your body used for their own gain, enveloped in a pain only the Devil can inflict, or because he has seen you shoot without a second of hesitation, moving forward before their body hits the ground. None of it, not even the things you care not to mention, to think about, nit even now. It's that he has become resistant, soft even.

He fights a fight he knows he cannot win. He draws the line between good and bad, hero and villain, as if there even is one, as if they are not the same in moments of desperation, of selfishness, or of great selflessness. That he thinks he can stop being what they made him, resisting the instincts they worked so hard to ingrain. You feel it, too. Turning off everything around you, picking apart the situation before it plays out. Footsteps, whispers, how many there are, where, how quickly they can get to you. A dance you know each step to, the two of you in sync. This time, no leader, no follower, but two soldiers taking orders. Without them, he thinks himself above who he used to be, who you used to be, what you were, but you know better.

You want nothing more than to slip back into old habits. That look, that stare, the wince he hides when they bring up his crimes, he wants the same. Step back, fall into old ways, let go until there is no one left to scorn you for what they put into your head.

Where they see Bucky, a man escaped, in remorse, righting his wrongs, you see The Winter Soldier, a friend, a weapon, an old accomplice. One of them, you respect, trusting with your life. The other, nothing more than a facade, a mask, a weakness, an act even he has tricked himself into believing.

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

Requested by: @80s4life

I hope you like this!😊💛

What I Did To You.

Snake Plissken (Escape From New York/LA) x reader

Warnings: violence, injury, swearing, gun use

Masterlist

I have my gun levelled at his head before I've even closed the door properly, my face drawn into a fierce scowl, eyes blazing with anger. Every muscle in my body goes tense, my hand unwavering as I hold the weapon up, my leg throbbing in memory pain. Across from me, the intruder remains stood silently, his eye fixed on mine, his own hand still resting at his hip, ready to draw his pistol at any point.

"Hello to you, too." He greets me in the quiet way he always used to, his lips barely moving.

Frown deepening, I push the door behind me closed without looking at it, keeping my gun aimed at his head as I look him over. Not for the first time, he's covered in a light layer of grime, his brown leather jacket darkened in places by the dirt and lightened in others by the fraying, his boots caked in dust from the wasteland outside. His golden mane of hair is slightly dulled from exposure to the unforgiving sun outside and falls into his eyepatch, flicked out of the way every so often by a jerk of the head. A shadow of a stubble covers his chin, as it always has, disguising a few new scars I've not seen before...as well as one I know very well. Other than that, Snake Plissken has not changed at all.

My eyes narrow, grip on the gun tightening.

"Leave." Is all I say, shifting my weight onto my other foot.

"You used to have such nice manners." Snake's lip curls, the soldier taking a step towards me.

Instantly, I flick my thumb over the flintlock.

"Leave." I repeat, pulling the hammer down as the gun makes a dull clicking sound.

"No." He moves closer, standing so the gun is inches from his chest.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here." I growl, oh so tempted to pull the trigger, "I don't know why you don't keep your distance."

A cruel smirk creeps onto his lips, eye narrowing as his head tilts to the side.

"Trust me, I didn't want to come here, either." He reassures me, "But I have no choice."

"I'm giving you a choice. Leave, or I'll introduce some lead into your diet." I retort, ignoring the burn in my arm from holding it outstretched. At this point, it's the only thing keeping us separated.

"I'll pass on both." Snake snorts, shooting a dismissive glance at the handgun pointed at his throat - now that he's standing closer, my aim only really comes up to his chest and neck, "Put the gun away."

I nearly laugh at him then, another surge of anger going through me.

"You're in no position to order me around. Not anymore." I practically snarl at him, keeping the gun where it is.

"Suit yourself. I came to ask for your help, the least you could do is be civil." He replies coldly, glaring at me now.

Again, the urge to laugh in his face goes through me.

"You came here to ask for my help?" I repeat, cocking my head in disbelief at the sheer balls of the man, "You really need to leave before I pull this trigger."

"(Y/n), we both know if you wanted me dead, I'd be bleeding out on the floor already." He points out, unimpressed.

"Maybe I'm waiting for an apology first."

This seems to catch him off guard.

"An apology?" He repeats, frowning in confusion, "For what?"

It takes all I have not to lunge at him and throttle the handsome bastard's neck in my hands, my leg flaring up in pain at the reminder.

"You know damn well what for." I growl at him, shifting off of my leg again, rubbing at it unconsciously.

Snake's eyes follow my movement, realisation dawning on him.

"I already apologised for that." He says quietly, clearly remembering back to the time I'm referring to.

It still plagues me, that one last operation we'd had to do together. Three years ago, back when we were still working together on jobs, good at what we did, the perfect partnership...except for Snake's tendency to protect his ego. It had been horrible that night, rain pelting the ground as we moved on the abandoned construction site, mud slicking our boots and trousers, foggy air making it impossible to see anywhere. I had told Snake we shouldn't go that day, that it would be better to wait until another, clearer night, but he insisted on the raid. He'd told me that he'd "been in worse" and that this was nothing, so we took our guns, knives and other equipment, and headed out into the wastelands to deal with the threat.

At first, everything had been fine: we'd managed to get in with no problem, creeping around the perimeter, taking out guards as we went, bodies sodden and filthy now, freezing under our light jackets. It was only as we moved to go further into the site that disaster had struck. Suddenly, gunfire was tearing into the ground inches away from us, driving us back behind an old container box, flashes of light appearing in the milky fog around us, our vision obscured by the sheeting rain, the mud making it hard to retreat. We later found out we'd been ratted out to the terrorists occupying the site, and they'd set up a trap for us, hounding us from the place with rifles spewing bullets at us the entire way. We had been close to escaping.

Then I slipped on a landmine.

All of a sudden, I was flying forwards through the air, agony erupting in my left leg as the flash of light and flames exploded behind me, my body crashing to the floor seconds later. Winded and incapable of moving thanks to the pain lancing through me from my leg, I had screamed out to Snake, hoping for him to return to me, the smell of burning flesh soon flooding my nostrils as my foot caught in the blaze. Howling in agony, I had tried to pull myself out, my fingers scrabbling at the slick mud in desperation, only for the pain to become too overbearing. I had looked for Snake, only to see the back of his head disappearing towards our getaway vehicle, paying no mind to me. It was then that I blacked out, my heart drowning in betrayal and hurt.

For a week or so, I'd been held captive by the terrorists, tortured sometimes, my wounds left to fester, bones shattered and out of place, burns turning ugly over the time. Eventually, another team had been sent in to rescue me, the group getting me out before it got too far. Taken to a hospital, it took me weeks to recover, every muscle and bone in my left leg needing to be reformed almost completely, surgeries being done near-daily to realign them all, the skin basically unsalvageable. I'd had four different skin grafts from various parts of my body, only to leave the limb looking twisted and mangled, basically useless to me until I was encouraged to learn how to use it again. That entailed another half a year of time spent working on getting it to full use again, and even now I can't go nearly as far as I used to. Every so often, the leg throbs, memory pain still hounding me since the day I got the wounds themselves, but I suppose I got off lucky: the surgeons hadn't expected me to make it through.

All of that because of Snake's ego.

His apology? A note sent to me whilst I was unconscious in the hospital.

"You and I have a very idea of what an apology is. Especially for something that kept me bedridden for months." I bite out, heart aching now at the memory, "Especially for someone who left me to die."

Snake purses his lips, swallowing tightly.

"I thought you did die." He says, much quieter now, eye roaming my body guiltily.

"You heard my screams. There's no way you didn't." I reply harshly, reminded again of the raw-throated shrieks for help.

He winces, looking down at his feet now, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I didn't think you'd make it. If I went back, I wouldn't have gotten out." He murmurs, sounding somewhat saddened by what he's saying.

"You wanna know how long it took those fuckers to get to me? Fifteen minutes. Fifteen! There was more than enough time!" I spit at him, face twisted in anger.

Once again, he winces at my words, only now realising the extent of what he did.

"And even when you knew I was alive, when I was in hospital, you couldn't even be asked to come and apologise in person. You sent a damn note." I shake my head, looking at him in disgust, "You're a coward. A spineless coward. Why didn't you at least show your face? Why? Why did you leave me to face the pain on my own?"

"Because I couldn't face it! I couldn't face seeing you there, lying in a hospital bed, all doped up, cut-up and bruised because of me! I couldn't face seeing you nearly crippled because of my stupid fucking pride!" Snake finally snaps, voice strained as his eye returns to my face, pain clouding the blue depth, "I thought I got you killed, (Y/n)! I could barely live with myself because of it!"

"Then why wait until now to find me? Why not come sooner?" I question, voice tense.

"I didn't think I'd be able to face you so angry and upset. I cared - care - so much about you, (Y/n), you have no idea how hard this is for me. I've lived with this guilt for so long." He fumbles for words, unable to voice his feelings as he always has been.

"How hard this is for you? Do you have any- argh!" I cut off in pain. As I was speaking, I'd stepped forwards, my leg sending a shock of agony through me as I'd done so, making me stumble forwards.

Snake moves closer, catching me before I can connect with the floor, his arms secure around me as my hands come to rest on his muscular chest. Blushing at the proximity, I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, pushing off of him to sit on a nearby chair, dropping the gun to the floor. Stretching out the affected leg, I sigh in frustration, the anger residing into the same loneliness I've always felt since I got the wounds that have left me like this.

Snake watches me silently, expression pained as he finally speaks.

"Can I...can I see? Please, I want to know what I did to you."

Surprised, I give him a sceptical look, before I hesitantly start to pull my trousers down over my legs. His eye widens at the sight of the limb, lips parting slightly.

Gnarled scar tissue crawls up my leg, discoloured and tight, appearing somewhat ghostly in the light of the room. Snake stares at it in horror, grief swiftly clouding his eye now as he falls to his knees in front of me, hands lifting to hover over it. He flicks his eye up to me, asking for permission, to which I nod, gasping as he removes his gloves and gently places his hands on the sensitive skin, a shiver going up my spine. Ever so carefully, Snake runs his palms over the scars, feeling them over with hesitant fingers, his expression becoming more and more open.

After a while, he looks up, pained eye meeting mine.

"God, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." He grasps my hips, pushing his head into my abdomen as he wraps me into an awkward embrace, murmuring apologies over and over. Shocked, I hesitantly place my hands on his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair. An old tenderness springs into life within me, reminding me of why I used to stay with him, and what his riendship used to mean to me. Over the years, I had tried to forget it, but it's impossible - as he holds me close now, I realise I've missed him more than I'd ever let myself admit.

Snake pulls away after a few more minutes, caressing my hip as he looks up at me, thoughtful now.

"What job was it you needed help with?" I ask him quietly, twisting a strand of his hair between my fingers, "I'll work with you, if you drop the ego act."

He looks surprised and glad, a smallsile pulling at his lips.

"Of course." He promises, looking away again bashfully, "I only kept it up to impress you."

I blink in surprise.

"To impress me?" I repeat dumbly.

"Yeah, I, err, I've always felt the need to. Wanted to impress you so you'd consider going out with me." He admits, blushing furiously.

I blink again, head tilting in curiosity.

"Wait, what?"

"I always wanted to go out with you. Always." He chuckles, swallowing, "I've always loved you."

"You...you love me?!"

"Yeah, I do." Snake nods, biting his lip.

"Wow..." My voice trails off in surprise, unable to compute what he's saying, "I wish you'd told me sooner."

He frowns.

"What do you mean?"

I smile sheepishly at him.

"I've always had a thing for you, too. I just never thought you even liked me full stop."

"Really?!" He looks astonished.

"Yeah, really."

He's quiet for a moment, until a cunning smirk crosses his lips.

"In that case..." Snake leans up and connects our lips, kissing me softly but passionately.

A quiet moan escapes me, my lips moving instinctively against his, kissing him back in relief. His lips are chapped, but I can't find it in me to care as I pull his head closer to me, smiling as he pulls my body into him, his chest pressed firmly against my abdomen. In his arms, I can feel the pain of the last few years starting to slip away, still hooked deeply into me but starting to lessen, my eyes falling closed with the movement of his lips.

He finally pulls away, a content smile on his face, eye taking my expression in.

"So what's this job?" I breathe out, stroking his hair.

He grins lazily.

"Ever thought about going to LA?"

#escape from la #escape from new york #snake plissken #snake plissken x reader #snake plissken imagine #kurt russell #break writes

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imagineyourworld-old · 3 years

Text

The Duchess and the Captain (Part Two)

Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader

Summary: You get to know your husband, Duke Palpatine, and quickly realize what you will be missing in your marriage. Can Captain Rex make you feel better?

Warnings: Mentions of smut (maybe slight smut, I don’t really know, sex is not forced on the reader but expected of her and therefore might be triggering to some, but no detailed descriptions)

Previous Part, Masterlist

-------

The next few days passed you by in a heartbeat. You spend most of your time getting acquainted with your new home, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. In addition to the main house there was the orangerie, a small tea parlor in the park and two different gardens just for afternoon strolls. And of course the stables, houses for servants, barracks for the guards and so many other building you didn’t even try to remember.

“You really are lucky”, your mother sighed with a content smile.

The two of you were strolling through the rose garden behind the house, the smaller of the two gardens. It was beautiful, everything was well kept and every flower had its place, but every time you were here you felt out of place. Confined to your life, trapped like the birds that Padmé had told you your husband insisted to keep locked in cages in the garden.

“I will be sad to leave you, but I really do need to get back to your father and brother. Now that you’re happily married it’s Edward’s turn and finding him a wife will be a lot more challenging than finding you a husband, you know how stubborn he can be.”

Though you tried you couldn’t really listen to your mother. All she talked about was how lucky you were to be married to the Duke, how happy she was for you and how excited you must be to see your husband again tomorrow.

You let your gaze sweep through the garden until it halted at General Skywalker. The General had been following whenever you set foot outside the house, and even inside he was never far. The first time you met he had told you that those were your husband’s wishes, that he was only there to keep you safe, but part of you feared he might be reporting your every move back to the Duke. Even the smile the General send you could not easy your suspicions.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Finally your mother’s word rang through to you.

“I’m sorry. I’m just... lost in my thoughts...”

Your mother put a reassuring hand on your arm. You leaned into the familiar touch, a small piece of home in this strange new place.

“Are you thinking of your husband? Do you miss him very much?”

Sometimes you were sure your mother had to be joking. She must realize that you didn’t love, didn’t even like, Palpatine. And it wasn’t just the age difference, which in itself made every interaction with him awkward, he was just so cold. It was obvious he cared as little for you as you did for him and that might have been what bothered you most. You had been more or less forced to marry him, for his money, his title and because no one else had asked to marry you, but he could have had anyone. Half the girls in the country would have married him in an instant, so why did he choose someone he didn’t have any feelings for? Why did he waste his one chance at happiness and propose to you?

“I... I was just thinking that our marriage might not be as it should. We’re nothing like you and father”, you finally said, hoping this would both voice your concerns and not be too obvious about them. But your mother just laughed.

“Darling, that is normal. Relationships take time and work, your father and I didn’t instantly fall in love, but when you’re raising a family together and spending your lives together love will come. And you are so easy to love, it will be alright.”

You should have known your mother would not understand your concerns, she had never shared your dreams of marrying for love, of being swept off your feet in a fairytale like romance. Before you could pretend to agree with her, however, you were interrupted.

Obi-Wan came to a halt before you. He inclined his head in a small bow before addressing you and your mother.

“Your Grace, my lady, the Duke has returned and wishes to see you.”

At first you thought, though you knew it was wishful thinking, that he was talking about another Duke. Maybe one of your husband’s friends had come to visit and wanted to meet you for the first time. But you knew you would have had to face Palpatine, even if he was a day early.

“Thank you, Kenobi. Thought I would like to change before greeting my husband. If you would be so kind as to send Padmé up to my room.

The butler nodded.

“Certainly, my lady.”

-------

Half an hour later you were sitting in the drawing room with your husband.

“I take it the house is to your liking”, he said.

Those were the first words either of you had spoken since your “Good afternoon” ten minutes earlier.

You sat your cup down on the saucer and smiled at him. A smile you hoped seemed happy and sincere.

“Very much, thank you.”

Silence took hold of you again. You refrained from playing with your spoon or the hem of your dress, two of your nervous habits your mother had told you a thousand times to drop.

You looked around the beautiful room. The curtains were moving ever so slightly in the wind that came through the open windows, one of your husband’s ancestors was staring at you from the huge portray above the fire place, his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“I will only be here one night. Urgent business calls me away my estate in Naboo tomorrow, technically I should not even be spending the night and go there right away, but I suppose we should get to work.”

You turned away from the picture to look at the Duke. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression in his cold eyes, so cold and calculating, they almost made you shiver.

“I’m not sure I understand”, you said, hating how weak and uncertain you sounded. “What ‘work’ are you referring to?”

For a moment your husband’s masked moved as he looked at you in shock. You hated how he could make you feel dumb and inferior without saying a single word, but you knew it was not your place to say anything about that.

“I am of course talking about producing an heir.”

Now you couldn’t stop the shiver. You knew you had to give your husband an heir, multiple if possible, but part of you had hoped he would forget all about that part of your marriage after your wedding night. But you knew your duty and you had heard more than enough stories about women who refused their husbands, or even had lovers, and the terrible things that happened to them and no matter how much you didn’t want to, you would rather get it over with than suffer the same fate.

“Yes, I... of course. I am looking forward to it.”

Another cold glance from Palpatine and the very forced smile fell from your lips.

“It is not for you to look forward to or to enjoy, it’s is your duty.”

All you managed to do was nod. What else were you supposed to do? Where you supposed to answer anything?

Palpatine seemed content with your reaction though. He placed his tea on the small table between you and got up.

“One more thing”, he said as he reached the door. “I will be taking General Skywalker with me from now on, there were some... disputes the last couple of days and I will be needing more protection. Captain Rex will be your personal guard from now on.”

Without so much as a goodbye he left the drawing room and closed the door behind him.

With a loud sigh you leaned back on the couch, ignoring where your corset dug into your ribs uncomfortably. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“It’s just one night, he’ll be gone again tomorrow”, you whispered, knowing that it might just be one night this time, but that your husband would always come back for more and there was nothing you could to to stop him.

“My lady, are you alright?”

You hadn’t heard anyone entering the room, but even without looking you recognized the familiar voice. Though the words were professional, the tone made it clear that Rex wasn’t just asking because it was expected of him, he really cared, at least to some degree.

You opened your eyes to find his own focused on your face, an uncertain look in them, as if he wanted to step closer but didn’t dare to.

“No”, you whispered.

Abruptly you sat up straight again. Panic flooded through your veins. You were supposed to say “I’m fine”, not tell anyone, especially a guard, a servant, that you were not alright.

“Is there something I can do?”

Now the Captain really did take a step towards you. He wasn’t close exactly, definitely not as close has he had been that night in the kitchen, but you could have sworn you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes and smell a mixture of leather, horses and something you could only describe as sunshine.

You shook your head. There was nothing he, or anyone, could do. You had gotten yourself into this situation, and not just the having to sleep with the Duke part, but the whole entire marriage. Though it had been expected of you, you could have declined his offer. Your mother would have been disappointed, your father mad, but they would have come to accept your choice.

After taking another deep breath you decided it was time to get up. But for some reason even something as simple as standing seemed like an impossible deed right now. The Captain instantly noticed your struggle. He stepped even closer, close enough for you to take his hand when he offered it to help you up.

His skin was rough, making it obvious you were holding the hand of a guard, someone who saddled horses and shot guns all day, but that roughness felt realer than any of the soft fabrics you had touched all your life.

You knew you should let go the moment you were on your feet, you knew what this would look like should anyone walk in on you, but your thumb seemed to have a mind of its own when it started softly stroking the Captain’s hand.

He let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a growl while tensing and relaxing within a single second. At first you feared you had overstepped a boundary, a personal that is, because this was without question overstepping any professional boundaries. Your eyes had been focused on your hands, but you slowly lifted them to meet his gaze. The Captain’s eyes were darker than they had been just moments before, but there was an warmth in them you had not seen before.

“You know”, you whispered in a soft voice as not to interrupt the moment. “I feel better already.”

And you really did. The guard’s touch and the warmth in his eyes made you feel more comfortable, more relaxed, than you had been for days.

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then cleared his throat. His voice was deeper than it had been moments before and it made your body tense in unfamiliar places.

“I’m glad.”

It seemed as if he wanted to add something when the door burst open.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Skywalker needs your help, he lost something and keeps mumbling about how you’re his only hope”, the intruder, another guard you recognized as Rex’s brother Fives, exclaimed.

You hadn’t noticed the Captain had let go of your hand until he took a step back. His cheeks were slightly darker than they had been before, but his expression hasn’t changed.

It was only then, when the blonde moved away from you, that his brother realized you were even in the room. He shot the Captain a look you could not read, no matter how much you wanted to, before bowing slightly.

“Your Grace, I did not see you there.”

A soft laugh found its way out of you. You couldn’t help but instantly like Fives. He was more relaxed than his brother, though they shared a light in their eyes that told you how much alike they could be.

“It’s alright, Fives.”

The guard’s eyes widened in shock.

“You know my name?”

“Your brother told you a bit about you, about your other brothers as well. I myself am very close to my older brother Edward, so... Sorry, I... I should probably stop talking.”

The times your mother had told you not to discuss family with anyone, especially servants, came to your mind and after already breaking protocol with the Captain earlier you though it best to be quiet.

Fives didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness as his eyes moved between you and his brother, which you, on the other hand, didn’t notice.

“We should get to General Skywalker then”, the Captain finally said, interrupting the silence.

With a nod, a “Good day, my lady” and a bow Fives left the room. His brother followed, but turned around to face you once more.

“I hope you’ll feel better soon”, he said with a smile. A smile that told you that he didn’t regret what had happened between the two of you earlier.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you felt the same and tried to show it in your next words.

“Thank you, Rex.”

This time he heard you calling him by his name, the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. But instead of closing the distance between you again, to touch your hand one last time before returning to his duty, he just bowed and hurried to leave the room.

-------

That evening dinner was a quiet affair. Your husband barely talked, even though your mother tried her best to strike up a conversation. But the hardest part came after the meal when you had to say goodbye to your mother, who would be leaving early the next morning.

“I will miss you so much, my darling. But you will be just fine, I know it. You’re going to be a great duchess and a good wife.”

Your mother had tears streaming down her cheeks as she said this. She had the same proud look in her eyes as she did when you had accepted the Duke’s proposal and when you had exchanged your vows, after all, having your daughter marry a rich duke was every mother’s dream and her’s had come true.

You told her that you would miss her as well, to give your love to your father and brother and that you would write as much as possible and then, after tearful hugs and kisses, your mother was gone and you were all alone.

With tears still drying on your cheeks you sat at your vanity table and stared at your reflection. In the few days since the wedding you seemed to have aged a lot, not in the positive maturing sense either, you simply looked exhausted. Dark bags were under your red eyes, the colour has left your skin and even your hair seemed lifeless.

“Pinching your cheeks should help”, Padmé offered as she stepped into the room.

You turned around to face your maid. She was holding a candle in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other. Before stepping closer to you she laid the cloth down on the foot of the bed.

“I have brought you a nightdress your husband wants you to wear.”

The look in her eyes spoke of sympathy and pity and even though you knew she was being kind you resented her for it. If Padmé ever got married she could choose her husband, choose someone she loved and who loved her and not marry a cold old man because it was expected of her.

“Is there”, Padmé started but hesitated to continue. Only when you looked at her and nodded did she speak again. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable tonight?”

You took a moment to think about it but ended up deciding that there really wasn’t. You had already downed more wine than usually at dinner and it had done nothing to calm your nerves and in the end you decided that you would rather be fully present for what was about to happen than give your husband the opportunity to do whatever he wanted without resistance.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll manage.”

Call it women’s intuition, but both you could tell that Padmé didn’t really believe you.

“Forgive me for speaking so boldly, but if you ever want to talk about what happens in the bedroom between husband and wife, or anything else for that matter, I am here for you.”

In that moment you realized that just because your mother had left didn’t mean that you were alone. Yes, Padmé was your servant, but you knew other girls who were good friends with their lady’s maids, so why shouldn’t she be your friend as well as your servant?

“Thank you very much for the offer, but I doubt there is anything you know that I don’t. After all, you’re not married.”

She raised an eyebrow and seemed to consider something before ultimately shaking her head.

“I’m not”, she said in a tone that made you question whether there was someone who held a special place in her heart. “But I have heard that some women think of other men when in bed with their husbands.”

For some reason you didn’t want to investigate any further Captain Rex popped into your head. The feel of his rough hands against your soft ones, the warmth in his gaze, the sound of his voice and laugh. You quickly shook your head, both to get rid off the thoughts and to hide the colour rising to your cheeks from Padmé. Fortunately your maid knew not to press the issue any further.

“Should I help you change into your nightdress?”

-------

You supposed you should consider yourself lucky that your husband seemed to be in a hurry to get his visit to your bedroom over with. He was in and out of your room within minutes. The time he was with you, and inside you, still felt like hours rather than minutes. The entire time your husband didn’t speak a word, not even a “good night” when he left again and if it hadn’t been for the noises he made you would have thought it was just as much of a duty for him as it was for you, but your mother had told you enough for you to know that the noises meant he was enjoying himself.

As soon as you heard the door from your sitting room to the corridor close you hurried off the bed and to your bathroom. Padmé, as if she’d know you would need it, had left a second bowl of water and piece of cloth next to the one you used to wash yourself in the morning. You tried to clean your nether regions as best as you could before returning to the bedroom, where you covered as much of the bed as possible with the two clean towels you had brought from the bathroom.

Though you didn’t feel as clean as you would have liked it would have to do for now and it didn’t take as much tossing and turning for you to fall asleep as you had anticipated.

-------

The next morning Rex didn’t see you until a few hours after Palpatine had left. He had asked Echo to stay with you while he arranged for the General’s absence, but around midday he finally managed to relief his brother and take on his duty of watching over you.

You were seated on a small chaise in the rose garden and Rex tried not to stare at how the sun shone on your hair and made your skin glow. Your eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell whether you were sleeping or simply relaxing, all he knew was that you looked more peaceful than you had the day before.

“What were you doing all day? I thought you were supposed to always be with me”, you asked.

Rex didn’t know how you could tell it was him standing in the shade of the cherry tree and no longer Echo since your eyes were still closed. For a moment he entertained the thought that you could sense him as much as he could sense you, but he banned that idea from his head almost as soon as it appeared. You had probably just opened your eyes for a split second and seen him, that had to be it.

“I had to sort through the General’s notes for training and timetables to keep everything running smooth while he is gone, that took a while.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. Finally you looked at him. He felt as if your eyes could look straight through cloth, flesh and muscle to into his soul, and find something growing there you were never supposed to see.

“I’m glad you’re here now, Captain.”

The almost teasing way in which you pronounced his rank reminded him of how you had said his name the day before. He had heard beautiful instruments, stunning voices and the exoctic birds the Duke kept around the gardens, but nothing compared to how you said his name. To him it no longer sounded like a name, but a beautiful song, something to cherish, to think of before falling asleep at night and to haunt one’s dreams.

Though Rex wasn’t what you would call shy, he was very reserved, especially when dealing with his employer, so he did nothing but nod at your comment and then stare straight ahead. He had already allowed himself too many liberties with you and now, as your personal guard, he had to remain professional, or else risk losing everything.

You, however, did not seem to get his subtle hint, because you just kept talking.

“I must admit, I much prefer the other garden, what was it called again? The rose garden is beautiful and everything, but it’s just a little too close to the house, I much prefer something more private. But it is too hot to take a single step more than necessary. I really don’t know how you manage in your uniform, you must be melting. Though, if you want, you could take off your jacket. Only if you want, maybe you’re cold, maybe it’s just me who cannot take this heat, but if you want to -”, you stopped your rambling mid sentence.

Rex risked a short glance at you. Your face was red, as was your neck, and a single drop of sweat was running down your temple to your neck and even further down towards an area he would not risk looking at.

“I’m sorry”, you said after a bit of silence. “I often find I cannot stop talking when I’m nervous.”

He tried, he really tried, not to show his surprise, but his eyebrows seemed to have a will of their own when they lifted in confusion. Though Rex managed not to look at you when he spoke, a small victory.

“What do you have to be nervous about, my lady?”

Part of Rex knew that this conversation could go in a direction it shouldn’t, meaning anything other than the most basic small talk, but another, larger, illogical part, wanted you to keep talking and to listen to every single word you said.

Your shadow and your footsteps on the gravel told Rex that you were coming closer. Still he did not turn around to face you, not even when you stopped and stood next to him, close enough that he could touch you if only he moved a few centimeters.

“Everything, to be honest. And nothing at the same time. I am married, living in a big house and should be the happiest girl alive, but it’s just not what I imagined. I feel so out of place, event though this is my home now, and my husband -”

Rex felt you taking a deep breath rather than hearing it, your whole body relaxed after your exhale.

“I guess I should stop talking now. After all, my husband is your employer and the only person who should talk about him even less than me, is you.”

It was your resigned tone that finally made Rex turn to face you. Your blush was gone, instead you had gone quite pale. Only your bright eyes and your lips, the bottom of which you were currently biting, gave your face pops of colour.

“Did he hurt you?”, Rex asked against his better knowledge. Yes, he was supposed to protect you, but that protection did not extend to the Duke, who, as your husband, was legally allowed to do with you whatever he wanted.

You hesitated for a fraction of a moment before shaking your head.

“No, he didn’t. It’s just... My marriage simply isn’t what I had been expecting.”

Both relief and sadness flooded through Rex. Of course he was glad the Duke hadn’t laid his hands on you, but his heart was also breaking for you.

“I suppose I was simply holding out hope for a knight in shining armor for so long that even now I can’t get rid of the idea. But that’s on me for reading too many books and wishing for a fairytale.”

A twinkle was back in your eyes. Maybe, Rex thought, you were thinking of your childhood dreams or even a childhood love. And though he didn’t like the thought of that, a feeling he shoved down as deep as possible, he was glad to see some of your sadness gone.

“I’ve heard of other women who gain their happiness through their children instead of their husbands”, he said in a low voice. It was something he had seen with his mother, who gave all her love and care to him and his brothers and didn’t seem to have much for her husband.

“Children...”, you stepped closer to Rex after whispering the word. Your (y/e/c) eyes settled on his honey coloured ones. “That’s the whole reason the Duke even married me, to give him an heir. I guess that really is all I’m good for.”

Rex’s eyes widened in shock. Did you really think that? Did you not see that there could be so much more to your life?

“I am sorry, my lady, but I disagree. There is so much more to you than the ability give the Duke an heir. You have your whole life ahead of you and-”

Suddenly Rex noticed the way your eyes hung on his lips, the astounded expression on your face.

“I... I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say such things.”

One second you just stared at Rex, the next you reached out and held his hand in yours. A soft smile was on your face and just like that all his worries of getting scolded disappeared and were replaced by a feeling of content and warmth spreading from his hand all the way to his heart.

“Thank you, Rex”, you said, your voice soft and sincere. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. You’re a kind man.”

Rex had gotten compliments before, from his mother, his brothers and his General, but never had they meant as much as the four simple words coming out your mouth. He could have sworn his heart stopped at the combination of your smile, your touch and your words. You were giving him so much by simply being with him and he knew, deep down, that nothing he could say would ever repay you for the way he felt in that moment.

I finally managed to continue this story. Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to take my time to do this right and with uni starting again time is something I don’t have a lot of recently.

But a huge thank you to everyone who read and commented on the first part! It really means a lot, even though I haven’t figured out how to reply to you using this blog I have read the comments and they warmed my heart. I hope you’ll enjoy this part as much as the first one and are looking forward to part three.

Taglist: @and-claudia @pinkiemme @callme-eds

#captain rex x you #captain rex imagine #captain rex au #captain rex x reader #captain rex #imagine #star wars imagine #star wars self insert #clone wars imagine #star wars au #clone wars au

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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OK, I know this will probably be painful, and I may be a bad mutual for asking but...would you be willing to identify what, in your opinion are the bottom five worst Shadow adaptations, and give a detailed breakdown of why they were so lousy?

Oh christ, okay. I don't think you're gonna get as much of a detailed breakdown for these compared to some of the others, because I take more issue with adaptations that do have good qualities but also big or deep problems to talk about.

For example, I can't include Garth Ennis's Shadow in this list because the comic has a lot of strong points to it, despite a deeply, deeply detestable take on The Shadow's character, where as the rest of the Dynamite run doesn't reach neither the lows or highs of his run. Likewise, Andy Helfer's run has a couple or a couple dozen moments every issue that make me want to tear something to shreds in frustration, but it's also at many points a really good comic with great art and some occasionally very inspired writing. Really, I'd just be repeating myself talking about what I hate in those.

But, fine, let's list some of the others.

I think I'm just gonna have to get the elephant in the room out of the way here, and address that I won't be including Si Spurrier's 2017 Dynamite mini in this list, and I think at least some of you might be angry it's not Number 1 by default. I'm doing this because I intend to one day really revisit it, think about it and it's reception and what it was trying to do, and talk about it on it's own, now that it's been 5 years and everyone has moved on and we can maybe talk about it without kneejerk hatred driving everyone nuts (your mileage may vary on how warranted it was).

I'm also not going to be talking about James Patterson's new novel, because I haven't read it. It seems to be considered a forgettable potboiler by mainstream critics and a resounding failure by everyone who likes the character whether they've read the book or not, and frankly I don't have it in me to learn what the fuzz was about anytime soon, I got my hands way too full as is.

And I won't be including the Batman x Shadow crossovers here, because again, they do have a lot of virtues that put them far ahead of some of the really worst Shadow media, and I've talked enough about how badly I think they mangled The Shadow, which is really the big problem I have with them (well, that and Tim Sale blatantly copying a Michael Kaluta cover, that was really shitty). I don't really hate them anymore, I just get tired and frustrated thinking about parts of them, I said my piece as is. Really, my frustration over this comic is what inspired me to start writing about The Shadow here, so I guess in a way I do owe it at least that much.

5: Archie Comics's Shadow

I think some of you might be wondering why this isn't ranked higher, but to be honest, I don't actually harbor any hatred towards this. I mean, I have to include it, but I find it kinda silly that some people even today actually care about the existence of this comic enough to hate it.

For fans back then? Oh yeah, obviously, but this dropped to such instantaneous backlash that it never really got to live past 6 issues. Really, everything wrong about it can be understood immediately from the covers, and I've actually read the comic in it's entirety to see if there was anything worth taking. I found only a couple of things of note but, no, this really is just a painfully mediocre superhero comic that happens to have a couple of Shadow names in it. If anything, it gets too much credit.

The actual contents of what it is are never going to justify it's reputation, but the existence of it and the disproportionate response to it is the funniest and most enduring legacy it could ever ask for. This whole comic is The Shadow's version of Spongebob's embarassing Christmas photo.

4: David Liss's The Shadow Now

This is another "The Shadow as an immortal in modern times" comic and I think you may have noticed the pattern with those by now. I may revisit this eventually and I do have some moments from it saved for reference, but overall: It sucks, and it doesn't even suck in a way that lets me talk much about it, it's a diet version of Chaykin's Shadow. If Archie's Shadow is a generic mediocre superhero comic wearing The Shadow's name, this is a generic crime story playing beats from movie. The Shadow is an asshole and not even a grandiose or sinister one, he just feels like a sleazy douche in a costume. The art is a 50/50 coin toss between appropriately moody and "Google images with a filter on them", I don't remember anything about the plot other than Khan had a bomb again and he had a daughter, and there were new versions of the agents and the Harry stand-in turned evil and Lamont shacked up with Margo's descendant which, uh, no. I don't really hate this but I really have nothing nice to say about this comic other than Colton Worley's art is nice sometimes. I can't really muster anything else to say here.

3: Invisible Avenger

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...uuh, wha-

Yeah, I remember nothing about this one other than it's painfully boring and nothing about it, nothing at all, works in the slightest and I drift off to sleep even now trying to give this a rewatch. To be honest pretty much every other Shadow serial not starred by Victor Jory sucks and I don't really have anything to say about them, this one is just the worst of the lot. I dearly wish there was a good Shadow tv series but, if it was going to be like this pilot? Good riddance.

2: Harlan Ellison's The New York Review of Bird

This isn't really a Shadow story as much as it's a Harlan Ellison story that happens to feature The Shadow, but man am I glad that Ellison's "Dragon Shadows" was canned, because holy shit what a goddamn nightmare Harlan Ellison writing The Shadow for real could have been, going purely by the one time he ever touched the character. New York Review of Bird is a purely farcical parody story that wears real, real thin even before "Uncle Kent" shows up, and we get to see in it what is by far the most detestable and irredeemable take on The Shadow ever put on print, and not even in a critique or deconstructive way or anything that could be remotely worth discussing.

I don't hold any particular affection for Harlan Ellison and his writing (despite liking some of it) and I've come to notice the major red flag that is finding someone who looks up to Harlan Ellison in any capacity as a person, and this story in particular really feels like Ellison aggressively trying to channel his jackass tendencies through every line, just him being nasty because he built a personal brand on being nasty. The only reason this isn't Number One is because it's a very short story that saw zero influence or reputation, and thus it only exists as a brief mention in The Shadow wiki, and a brief mention is all it really calls for.

1: Howard Chaykin's Blood & Judgment

I'm guessing most of you already knew this one was in the top spot before I started writing.

I would actually rather not write a big piece on Blood & Judgment, because I think (or at least I hope) it's influence on The Shadow has waned a lot over the years and I would prefer to draw it the least amount of attention possible, but if I HAVE to talk about this, I guess I'd rather just vomit this out of my circuits now instead of giving it it's own post.

I would prefer to use a less unpleasant image on my blog, but if I'm going to talk about this comic, there's no image to better convey it than this drawing of macho asshole Cranston holding a sexualized mannequin at gunpoint. By leaps and bounds, Blood & Judgment is the most misogynistic Shadow story I've ever read. It's ironic that Chaykin justified the rampant misogyny he gave The Shadow with the idea that this is just a man from the 30s would act like, when he admits in the same breath that he never even touched the stories, and he wrote a story more sexist and demeaning to it's female characters than anything, literally anything, written in the Shadow pulps. It's almost impressive even.

I'll paste some segments from Randy Raynaldo's review

In Flagg, he intended to present his own point of view on American society while keeping his work tongue in cheek and acessible. But this vision dimmed, and Flagg had become a vehicle by which Chaykin could play out fetishes and portray gratuitous and stylish violence.

In The Shadow, stripped of the political and social veneer which was supposed to make Flagg unique, Chaykin's sensibilities and excesses become disturbingly apparent. For all of his liberal posturing, Chaykin's work demonstrates zero difference from the same kind of mentality exploited and made popular by similarly violent popular culture icons like Dirty Harry and Death Wish.

More than half a dozen individuals are indiscriminately and violently murdered in the first issue. Although the victims are characters who played major roles in the myth of The Shadow, we feel little sympathy for them, even for those of us who knew these characters at the outset. Who dies is unimportant, it's how they die that is the fascination.

Chaykin uses sexual decadence as a means by which to establish villains, and undercuts this device by making the protagonists as promiscuous as the villains. For all of Chaykin's seemingly liberal leanings, he demonstrates very little sensitivity in his portrayal of women.

Because everything works on rules of three, this comic also follows the pattern with other works mentioned here, as this isn't Howard Chaykin writing The Shadow: it's The Shadow reimagined as a Howard Chaykin character. He looks and acts exactly like Reuben Flagg and the typical macho protagonist of Chaykin's other works, he's a cynical sleaze with an entirely new origin who half-assedly dons a garb to machine gun people, and I already wrote a separate piece on why the machineguns are kind of emblematic of everything wrong with this take.

I understand that Chaykin has, or used to have, a big following of sorts, and I've tried to wrap my head around this for years, but I genuinely still don't get why Shadow fans stomach this comic unless they happen to be Chaykin fans first and foremost, I really don't. Everything, fucking everything Shadow fans hate about modern depictions of the character can be traced right back to this. The parts that stuck and changed the character for the worse, like him being defined as an immortal, bloodthirsty warmonger who got all his skills and powers from a magic city in Tibet, or Lamont Cranston being a coward who fears and hates the Shadow, or his agents being expendable slaves, stuff that has been ingrained into the mythos through this and the Alec Baldwin movie and other comics, to the point that people now think of it as the norm, that it's the baseline of what The Shadow is, and I hate it, I genuinely fucking hate it,

I hate it so much that it's a big part of the reason why I created this blog and why I want so badly to get to write The Shadow, because I plainly couldn't stand not having ways to tell people that this is all wrong, that this is actively shooting down the character's odds for success, and that they are missing out on something really great, because the well has been tainted with garbage that won't go away and everytime I read the words Shambala in a Shadow comic, even an otherwise good or great one, I get just a wee bit cross.

The only semi-redeeming aspects I can think of for this comic is one or two cool moments, like when The Shadow hijacks a concert using his Devil's Whisper or when he tames dogs with a stare. Just breadcrumbs of "not garbage" amidst an ocean of anything but. I hate that talking about why I hate this comic in-length can almost feel like I'm still enticing people to check it out of curiosity, but if you wanna do that, fine, just know this: The worst part of Blood & Judgment, even if you don't care at all about what it did to The Shadow, is that it's boring.

It is a deeply boring comic. If you like Howard Chaykin to begin with, you'll probably like this okay (although even Chaykin fans told me that this is his weakest work and that even he seems to agree). If you don't, I plain don't see what you could get out of this.

The comic itself is just nothing. It's the comic book equivalent of a pre-schooler trying to get a reaction by swearing. It has nothing whatsoever other than half-assed attempts at shock value. The plot isn't there, the ideas are stale, the dialogue is needlessly oblique and comprised entirely of unfinished sentences, interrupted conversations and one-liners without build-up. The characters are all unlikable and uninteresting stooges with no personality, or joyless cartoons. There's no heart or emotion or logic, and it isn't even funny enough to succeed as just an outrageous exercise in 80s excess. There's nothing in here.

I get "why" it was popular enough at the time, a rising star creator penning a modern revival of an old character based on controversy that pissed off the old fans, it's an old story that still gets repeated today. But manufactured controversy is not a replacement for storytelling and it rarely ever exists to benefit the people who actually want to enjoy the stories, it only benefits those for the crude benefit of those who want to sell you something out of the controversy.

I guess they got their money's worth back then.

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Phew, okay, I did it, I finally vomited out a piece on Blood & Judgment and some others, allright, let's put this piece of negativity behind us now.

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #shadow comics #shadow films #dc comics

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