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bruciemilf · 2 years

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,,,, russian bruce wayne

Russian Bruce Wayne

RUSSIAN BRUCE WAYNE -

Listen. Listen. Not fully compacted into something coherent, but I'll do my best, because this idea has been haunting me, -

SO he's russian on his mother's side!! Martha Wayne immigrated in America when she was a teenager, nothing to her name but hope in her chest and her mother's pearl necklace in her pocket

She always got ugly looks for speaking in her native language and her accent. Slowly, it melted into something perfectly English, but she still spoke Russian at home and especially to Bruce

Little Bruce loved Baba Yaga as a kid and dressed like her for Halloween every single year; Nobody really understood it, but a glare from Alfred was enough to fill a bag full of candy

Martha and Bruce would talk shit in front of Thomas' faux philanthropist friends, but they were on wildly different spectrums

Martha, whispering: You see that man, Brucie? He sold his soul to greed. He's a worm of a human and his morals are rotten. That's why his eyes are dead

Bruce: haha, he's balding at 25

Martha, Alfred, and Bruce cooking beef stroganoff, syriniki, borscht, and Bruce's absolute favorite- pirozhki.

Martha also played the piano and LOVED Swan Lake so, so much. It was the one song that calmed Bruce during night terrors.

When he reaches eight, it all stops.

He eventually reconnects with his Russian roots in his 20s, when he's in college and his literature teacher shares a DISRESPECTFULLY incorrect opinion about one of Dostoevsky's works.

His teacher scoffed, " Well. Didn't know we had a Russian citizen here. "

" Not a citizen, but I AM a Russian descendent. My mother was an immigrant. That's kind of how America was formed. It's a pretty significant thing that happened."

Imagine you're a Gotham criminal and Batman starts muttering things about you in Russian. Somehow that's even more intimidating than anything he does.

" I can't believe they're more afraid of someone who doesn't speak English than a guy who beats up people dressed as a bat."

Alfred hums, sloooowly pulling away the vodka cereal Bruce made. " I can't imagine why. You're the poster child for mental health, sir."

" Not funny, papachka"

" For you."

When Dick is brought into the nest, Bruce struggles a bit with showing his affections; He only has money to offer, but Dick is happily uninterested in that, and seeks Bruce out instead.

BRUCE ABSOLUTELY SPENDS AN ENTIRE NIGHT TRYING TO PERFECT HIS MOTHER'S BAKLAVA FOR DICK!!

yes he's supposed to be on patrol. No, he doesn't care, Jim. It's all worth it when Dick takes a single bite and he has stars in his eyes and vines his little but strong arms around him, " this is PERFECT! Thank you so much, dad"

Air freezes in his blood, " ... Of course, ptichka."

He absolutely uses russian proverbs all the time (mostly when his children need to be reprimanded and reminded that making jokes is illegal when they're on duty)

JASON AND BRUCE FIGHTING OVER TRANSLATIONS AND CONTEXT IN ENGLISH ADAPTATIONS OF SLAVIC LITERATURE!

" PAPI, THAT'S NOT WHAT THEY MEANT TO SAY!"

" MISKHA I'M SO GRATEFUL YOUR GRANDMA ISN'T HERE, BECAUSE SHE'D DIE AGAIN IF SHE HEARD YOU SAY THAT!"

Damian 100000% prides himself on knowing russian and communicating with Bruce the smoothest.

It becomes a competition soon enough. Bruce is SO tired but the way they butcher words is funny, so he just pretends they're right.

The League finds out when Bruce snaps and calls Hal Cyka in a low, angry mutter while stomping away from his stupidity. " ... Bless you? What did he call me?"

Diana, struggling so hard not to laugh. " He said you were a genius."

" Huh. Had no idea he was French."

Meanwhile Clark is losing HIS shit because wow, Bruce's russian might be the hottest thing he ever heard. Please, this dork would absolutely try to learn Russian and talk to Bruce more.

He's absolutely horrible with it but Bruce is just very excited. He definetly chuckles (which. Wow. Clark couldn't even make him GRIN 3 weeks ago) " You just asked me if I sleep with my dentist."

" ...Oh. I...Was trying to ask you for drinks. You can kill me right now. Please?"

" Maybe another time, solnyshko. Take me for a drink first."

Clark inhales. " oKaY thank yoU."

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

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happy 3.5 k you 100% deserve it !!!! please could i put forward 33 . "are you jealous" with john shelby tysm have an amazing day

@henrywinterluver Thanks so much for your kind words and also for sending this request in! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it! I hope you like what I did with the prompt you chose! I envisioned this as season 3 Michael…after he started acting cocky haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Run in with a Cousin

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1170

Summary: Michael hits on (Y/N) one night at the Garrison. Michael doesn’t know that (Y/N) is John’s girl. (Y/N) tries to figure out why John reacts the way he does…in the process she learns of a family member she didn’t know John had.

(Y/N) was waiting for her drink at the Garrison’s counter when she felt someone slide into the empty space beside her. At first she ignored the person, wanting to get her drink and head back to the corner table she’d been occupying while she waited for her partner and his brothers to finish talking business. But the feeling of the man’s eyes lingering on her made her turn to face him just seconds later.

“May I help you?” she asked politely, wondering why he’d been staring at her.

“You might be able to,” the man said with a grin. (Y/N) tried so hard to keep her grimace internal.

“Oh yeah, how so?” she asked, deciding to humor him.

“I just couldn’t help but notice how bloody beautiful you are…and then when I saw that you were sitting here alone. I figured I’d come over and introduce myself,” he answered, inching closer to her as he spoke.

“Well thank you,” she accepted his compliment, still playing nice while making sure to add, “I already have someone though.”

The young man pursed his lips together at the added information before he looked around the room. “I don’t see him anywhere,” he commented on his observstion.

“Oh he’s here,” she assured him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still buy you a drink,” the man’s eyes were back on her as his grin returned, “nothin’ illegal with buying a pretty girl a drink…and maybe then we’ll see where that goes.”

A look of surprise flooded (Y/N)’s features as she heard what he had to say. “I think I may be a bit too old for you,” she pointed out. It wasn’t hard to notice that this man looked to be in his early twenties.

“Age is just a number, darlin’.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what to say back to that. So instead she just pursed her lips and nodded.

The young man was about to speak again when she caught a glimpse of her partner over his shoulder. Within seconds, John Shelby had approached them. She could tell by the scowl that had formed that he’d clocked the man she was talking to. (Y/N) tried to withhold her grin…things were about to get interesting.

“Hi, love,” she greeted him in a soft voice as he stopped by her side. He wasted no time in slipping his arm around her shoulders as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head to the man that was on his right. He still hadn’t looked in his direction yet.

“Just someone I’ve been talking to,” she answered, glancing between the two as she spoke.

“This must be your man that you spoke about,” the man made his observation known.

“It is,” (Y/N) nodded.

Then John looked to his right. “Michael?” he said the name as if there was posion laced into it.

“John?” the man’s response was full of shock. “Fuck,” he breathed then, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“You were out here trying to get with my girl when you were supposed to be in the snug discussing business?” John questioned.

“I wasn’t, I didn’t know, I…we were just talking,” the younger of the two struggled to think of an answer.

“But she had to tell you that she had a man,” John pointed out.

“She’s a pretty girl!” Michael admitted, throwing his arms outward in exasperation.

“We’re leaving,” John said to (Y/N) then, his arm dropping from her shoulders to hook around her waist before he looked back to the man named Michael, “and you’d better think twice before trying any of this shit ever again. Got it?”

Michael nodded in response, clearly looking like a child who had just been scolded. Well that’s what he was though, right? He was basically still a child. That was all John needed though to turn and lead (Y/N) out of the pub.

It wasn’t until they made it to her home that someone spoke again. “I can’t fucking believe that happened,” John grumbled as he swiped his peaked cap from atop his head so that he could throw it down onto one of the chairs in the living room.

(Y/N) spun to look at him, immediately noticing that his deep scowl was still very much present. “We were just talking, John,” she told him, trying to get him to lighten up.

“Yeah, but he was talking with the intent of picking you up.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Because I came out and put an end to it.”

“You don’t think I would have put an end to it myself?” (Y/N) inquired, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m sure you would have, but that’s not…” he trailed off with a huff, running a hand down his face before he waved it out in the air, “that’s not the point, (Y/N). I just can’t fucking believe he tried that.”

(Y/N) studied her partner’s mannerisms for a few moments, wondering why this measly conversation had got him so worked up. Then it clicked. “Are you jealous?” she just had to ask him.

John’s eyes immediately snapped to her. “What?” he just had to ask, wanting to make sure he even heard her right.

“Are you jealous of me talking to him?” she repeated her previous question. “Because that’s all we were doing. Talking.”

“Fuck no, I’m not jealous of him!” John exclaimed in an incredulous manner, “why would I be jealous of my little shit of a cousin who’s got absolutely no chance with you?”

“He’s your cousin?” (Y/N) asked with wide eyes, completely shocked by this new information.

“Yes, he’s my cousin,” John answered with a nod.

“How?” the word left (Y/N)’s lips before she could think of anything else to string with it, “I mean I know how, but like…through who?”

“My aunt Pol. He’s her son.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It would have made things much easier if you did.”

“Well if you would have told me…” (Y/N) trailed off, her eyebrows raising again.

“It never came up!” John defended himself, “and besides, I’m not the problem here, he is.”

“It’s not even a problem though, John,” she sighed in response, wishing he’d let the minuscule issue go.

“I’m gonna tell Pol about it…then it won’t be a problem anymore,” he decided how he was going to remedy the situation.

“That might make it more into a problem,” she couldn’t help but giggle slightly as she thought of her partner, who was very much an adult, going to his aunt to tell on her son - who was also very much an adult.

“It’s what he deserves,” he stayed steadfast with his idea, nodding once after he spoke, as if he was agreeing with himself.

“Whatever you think, John,” (Y/N) appeased him, deciding to let the matter rest…although she knew that this wasn’t the last time she’d hear about this situation.

**tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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scoonsalicious · 7 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 22, Untold - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Pocket committing humourous and harmless crime, me not knowing how police stations work.

Word Count: 972

Previously On...: You and Tony tried to sheer some sheep. Now it looks like the cops are headed your way.

A/N: Listen, I am too proud of the headline that Tony makes up. Too proud. Also, at the very end, they say the things for the first time! XD

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“How many times do I have to tell you,” you told the officer who was questioning you, “we weren’t trying to steal the sheep, we were just trying to shear them.” You and Tony had been brought to the local police station and informed you were both going to be charged with trespassing, attempted theft, and criminal mischief. They’d separated the two of you, and you were doing your damned best to make sure that they at least dropped the attempted theft charge. “I demand to see the criminal statute that makes that illegal,” you said.

The officer rubbed his face with his hand. You’d been at this for awhile now, and it was obvious he regretted getting stuck with you.

The door to the interrogation room swung open, and another cop stuck his head in. “Jones,” he said, addressing the officer, “her lawyer’s here. We gotta cut her loose.” Lawyer? You didn’t have a lawyer. You couldn’t fucking afford a lawyer.

The other cop motioned for you to exit the interrogation room, which you did happily, and quickly, not wanting to spend another minute more in there than you had to. In the lobby, you saw Tony quietly speaking to a gray-haired gentleman.

“Ah, (Y/N),” he said when he saw you approach. “This is my attorney, Mr. Mitchell. He’s going to be representing the both of us over this little misunderstanding.”

You shook hands with the lawyer, but said “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to utilize your services, Mr. Mitchell. I’m pretty sure they have to provide me with an attorney, as I most certainly cannot afford one.”

Tony scoffed at that. “Please. I got you into this, the least I can do is make sure you’ve got legal counsel.”

His words took you aback. You were so unaccustomed to having someone do something kind for you (even if, technically, the entire endeavor had been his idea) without expecting something in return.

“I’m not going to sleep with you in exchange for a lawyer, Tony,” you said.

Tony looked offended. “No offense, but you’re way too young for me. Besides, I don’t need to get girls a lawyer to get them to sleep with me, thank you very much.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mr. Mitchell said with an awkward cough, “I need to speak to the desk sergeant about finalizing your bail. The older man walked off, leaving you and Tony alone.

“Sorry about that,” you murmured. “I guess I’m just not used to people doing nice things for me without wanting something in exchange.”

Tony studied you. “You strike me as a girl who’s had to grow up pretty quickly,” he said. His voice wasn’t pitying, but it was sad. You just shrugged.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “the press will have a field day with this. I can see the headline now: ‘From Billionaire to Baaaaad Boy: Playful Playboy Arrested in Woolly Misadventure’.”

You snorted at that. “I can make sure they never hear about it,” you said.

Tony cocked his head at you. “Oh, you can, can you?” he asked.

You glanced over to where the precinct’s receptionist sat at her computer. “Can you cause a distraction? Get her away from that terminal for about five minutes?”

Tony brought a hand to his chin. “Like taking candy from a baby,” he said. He sauntered up to the receptionist and slammed his hand down on the counter, causing her to jump.

“Excuse me!” he shouted at her. “I demand to speak to your superior officer! I have never been treated so disrespectfully in my life!”

The receptionist blanched. “I’m sorry sir, but if you have a complaint, you can fill out–”

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” Tony shouted. “I demand you take me to your superior officer this instant, or I will have your job!”

The poor woman was frazzled as she led Tony back into the bowels of the precinct. As soon as they were out of sight, you ran around the counter to the terminal. It was only a matter of moments before you were able to locate the files for you and Tony, and with a few quick keystrokes, you had deleted them as though they never existed.

You quickly checked the pile of paper files waiting to be sorted, locating the case files for both you and Tony. Checking to make sure the receptionist and Tony weren’t yet on their way back, you stuffed them down into the very bottom of the public trash can before running back to stand exactly where Tony had left you.

In a few more moments, Tony and Mr. Mitchell came out from the back of the station together.

“Well, that was quite fortuitous,” Mr. Mitchell said. “It appears that there was some sort of computer error and your charges were erased from the system.” You avoided Tony’s glance at you as Mr. Mitchell continued. “The desk sergeant has agreed to contact me once they’ve re-entered the information from the paper files. For now, you’re both free to go. Tony,” he shook Stark’s hand, “always a pleasure. And Ms. (Y/L/N),” you shook his offered hand. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You, too, Mr. Mitchell,” you said. “And thank you so much.”

You and Tony followed the lawyer out, and as Tony started the Audi to begin your drive back to Boston, he turned to look at you.

“So, Kiddo,” he said, having learned you were just nineteen from your police intake, “how would you like a job?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “Are you serious?” you asked. There was no way he was serious. An offer like this could change the trajectory of your entire life.

“Like a heart attack,” he said.

You grinned at him. “When do I start, Boss?”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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g3z0 · 3 months

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Scared to love P1

this is a Nick sturniolo x MALE reader.

English isn’t my first language btw so I’m sorry if it sucks 🙏🏻

will probably be a series

Summary: You and Nick are best friends since childhood days. He doesn’t know that you like guys, let alone that you like him. You try to ignore your feelings, also because of your homophobic family. But it’s harder than you thought.

warnings: cursing, mentions of homophobia, mentions of toxic household

- g3z0

„get your fucking dirty shoes off my dashboard.“ I say to Nick while my hand reaches out to the passenger seat and I press his feet down.

He lets out an annoyed groan while he leans his head back on the headrest of the passenger seat. „They’re not even that dirty.“ He says while he looks over to me.

I glare at him „I don’t care. I told you a hundred times.“ I sigh and look away.

„how about you stop whining and bitching and you let me eat my food in my peace?“ he sniggers as he takes a sip from his soda.

I roll my eyes playfully and chuckle a little, leaning back in my seat, looking over at him.

I don’t know when I started to feel like this around Nick. My heart beats really fast, I get a little nervous, I try my best to make him laugh to see his beautiful smile, I want to be near him and touch him so bad.

And I hate it.

It wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t like this when we were kids, it wasn’t like this when we sat next to each other every morning on the school bus and it shouldn’t be like this now.

But I can’t help myself. There is just something about him that drives me fucking insane.

The way he talks with such a confidence, the way he doesn’t give a fuck what other people think of him, the way he isn’t scared to show others who he is.

I wish I would be more like Nick.

Because I’m scared. Scared what other people might think of me. And I’m not a 100% sure about it either. I don’t know if I’m gay. I liked girls too in the past - I think so.

I guess not everyone can be themselves. I probably have to hide it till the day I die because if my family would find out my dad would probably be-

„y/n?“ Nicks voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

„hm?“ I mumble as I raise my eyebrows, looking at him.

A smile curls up from the edges of his lips as he looks at me.

That fucking smile.

„you listening?“ He asks as he tilts his head a little to the side.

I sigh a little and nod a little „yeah, of course.“

„Then what did I say?“ He presses his lips together as he watches my facial expression.

I pause and let out a little laugh, rubbing my fingers over my eyes. „Uhm.. something about school..“ I look at him and see that he raises his eyebrows.

I smile „about Matt and Chris..?“ I laugh.

„you weren’t listening!“ He laughs and slaps my arm playfully

„Owh!“ I whine sarcastically and rub my hand over the spot he slapped. „Then what did you say?“ I mumble as I smile at him

He shakes his head a little „Party. Tomorrow.“ He grabs his Mc Donald’s cup and takes a sip out of it.

I groan and close my eyes, laying my hands in my face. „I don’t know if I’m going Nick.“

„oh, you‘re going to.“ he laughs „you can’t expect me to go there alone with Chris and Matt.“ He takes another sip out of the straw.

I look at him and take a quick glance to his lips. It feels illegal how soft his lips look. The way his pink lips wrap around the straw.

Fuck.

I clear my throat and look out of the window, sighing. „Just ask Madi.“ I mumble and bite down on my tounge.

„I did!“ nick said „she can’t come, so please y/n, don’t let me go alone.“ I feel his glare on me.

I close my eyes and sigh a little. „you know Chris and Matt will be gone the second we step into the party.“ he continues.

I turn my head to look at him and he almost has a desperate look in his eyes.

Why can’t I ever say no to him?

I smile softly and nod a little „okay, okay.. stop whining.“ I mumble as I start the egine of my car.

He smiles widely and hums happily „I love you.“ He says as he pulls his phone out and scrolls through our Spotify playlist to pick a new song.

„sure you do.“ I roll my eyes a little but can’t help but to smile.

I start to drive to nicks house and we stay silent the drive to his place, just listening to music.

I park in front of his house and turn the music down.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and looks at him with a smile while he opens the passenger door and pushes it open.

„wait-" I say as I reach my hand on the backseat, pulling out a hoodie.

I hold the hoodie out to him „Madi forgot it last time.“ I say as I wait for him to grab the hoodie.

Nick looks down at the hoodie and grabs it slowly, then he looks in my eyes again.

„why did Madi forgot her hoodie in your car?“ he asks as he raises an eyebrow.

I look at him for a few seconds. Am I tripping or does he sound a little.. pissed off? Annoyed?

I lick my lips a little and smirk a little at him. „What? Jealous?“ I tease him.

He scoffs and looks away „no.“

I hum and nod a little „sure you aren’t, buddy.“

„was just curious. Didn’t know you and Madi hang out alone.“ He gets out of the car.

I watch him and raise my eyebrows a little „I drove her home after the last party. Because Matt was drunk and I was the only one who wasn’t drinking.“ I remember him.

He laughs a little „right.“ his hand reaches over to my hair and he ruffles a little through it.

I laugh a little and squeeze my eyes shut. „Nick-"

„good night, y/n.“ he smiles before he lets go off me and slams my car door shut.

„hey! Don’t slam the door like that!“ I yell after him as I throw my hands up.

He laughs and lifts his hand up, showing me his middle finger as he walks into his house.

I smile as I watch him disappear. I let out a breathe I didn’t know I was holding and lean my forehead against the steering wheel of my car.

I close my eyes and bite my inner cheek.

„fuck.“ I mumble to myself.

#nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo

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haggishlyhagging · 11 months

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Fortunately, Susan knew a brainstorming technique called "think and listen." Months later when I was explaining to Mary Daly how "think and listen" worked, she told me that Nelle Morton had described the same process in her 1972 essay, "The Rising Woman Consciousness in a Male Language Structure," only calling it instead, "hearing into speech," or "hearing into being." Finding "hearing into being" a much more felicitous description of what happens in this process, I immediately adopted that name for it.

The process itself is very simple—feminists will recognize it as having some of the best characteristics of consciousness raising (CR) as it was done early in the movement: no interruption or evaluation is allowed. With time and use I came to appreciate the very complex genius of this process. As a brainstorming measure, it has no peer, and it is the perfect mode for addressing questions such as those I posed to the women who were to meet in San Jose.

It works best in a group of three that has an hour and a half at its disposal. Everyone in the group has equal time to talk—in this case, a half hour each—uninterrupted and with out evaluation. This is a revolutionary experience for some women. Being seriously and completely listened to, being genuinely heard, hardly ever happens to women in ordinary everyday life. Many women cry the first time they try this process. Their being so avidly heard in the present causes them to realize how deeply they have been wounded by being ignored and disregarded, shut up, talked over, and found inconsequential or amusing during most of their past lives.

It is also often the first time women have ever listened to somebody else for a half hour or so without responding, without murmuring, "Oh yeah?," "I see," "Um hum," "I know how you feel," at appropriate intervals. Or laughing, or making sympathetic noises. It is often the first time they have ever listened to somebody else without allowing their facial expressions to communicate understanding, puzzlement, disagreement, or a host of other reactions. It is not easy for women to learn not to respond. We are thoroughly conditioned to respond. We always respond. That is one of our roles in patriarchy—to be the responders, the chorus. Men talk, and we nod and say breathlessly, "Then what happened?" or "Oh, yes, I'd love to hear about your childhood rock collection!" Our children have legitimate needs for our attention. They need to have us laugh when they're witty or cluck with dismay when they tell us their woes. Our faces are infinitely plastic: we are required to register admiration, servility, sympathy, concern, sorrow, and understanding all day long every day. We almost cannot not respond by this time in our lives. We almost cannot allow somebody to set forth upon this quest for their own ideas in our presence without our solicitous questions and reassurances, our reactions stamped clearly on our visages, our oohings and aahings—we are such active listeners. When we first try to listen passively to others, some of us feel like traitors; we feel as if we're doing something illegal, as if we might be arrested for it any moment.

-Sonia Johnson, Going Out of Our Minds: The Metaphysics of Liberation

#sonia johnson #brainstorming techniques #female socialization #consciousness raising #feminist consciousness #passive listening

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coolaboutlucy · 3 months

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𝙚𝙡 𝙦𝙪𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙜𝙖, 𝙣𝙤 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙖 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: ex-jailbird!ellie williams x ex-jailbird!afab!reader

tags: angsty, ellie is an asshole, between past and present (indicated with dates), ellie has issues, pet names (baby), description of violence, mild language, drug use, one use of y/n (i had to im SAWREE!!), idk what trope this is, but it’s certainly something, good ending, but i HATE it ugh, lowk wanna make an alt ending, but i might not. 🤷🏽‍♀️

a/n: the word ‘jailbird’ being used in this context is lowk cringey but who cares? ive been on a roll lately!!! (i still have reqs to finish) ellie fic speed run r smth idk. tbf, this is the longest fic ive written in a while. i considered making this like a series or something but i never finish those so.. ig this is like a rlly big fat oneshot??? idk.

p.s: for my pookie @sweetysaccharine who also got a sneak peek hehe. 🤭🤭

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

you stand infront of a burning car on a hill in the middle of the desert at nighttime. you and ellie had just stolen $20 thousand worth of diamonds at some high end store in the city where only the most wealthy of people live, and now you were destroying the evidence, burning your costumes and leaving the diamonds out for the coyotes. “ellie, i won’t wanna do this anymore.” she looks at you through the blazing fire with a slightly raised eyebrow. “do.. what?” she asks as she pushes her hands into her pockets. “commit crimes. i want to have a normal life. im tired of this. you’re always making me do crazy shit.” you explain, exaggerating a bit with your hands. “were felons, baby. there is no normal for us. you chose this life. but sure. let’s say hypothetically, you get this ‘normal life’. where will you work? at a grocery store?” “i don’t know.” “exactly. that’s the beauty of it all. we don’t know what comes next. we don’t know if the police will come after us again, do we?” “well.. no—“ “exactly. go out and buy some more fruit.” she begins walking off, leaving the burning car behind. “we don’t need anything else, ive already got what we need.” you say as you begin walking off into the opposite direction. sand crunches underneath your feet as you walk off, hood over your head and the nights cool wind brushing against the bits of exposed skin on your body.

𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚇 | 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟽 what were the odds of two felons who hate each others guts working together after escaping together? highly unlikely. but it was your reality. let’s start from the beginning, shall we? ellie had gotten.. waaay too many years to even count. she was charged with identity theft, armed assault, two counts of homicide, and possession of illegal firearms. what were you charged with? accessory to a robbery, armed robbery and you’d also had a few DUI’s. was how many years you’d gotten even mattered now? it didn’t. you were free. and freedom smelled great. but sometimes? freedom sucks. ellie was crazy. she was batshit crazy. she was the one who helped you escape prison. she knows a lot of people. like, a scary amount of people. lawyers, drug dealers, private doctors, the whole nine yards. how’d you escape? simple.

“the other girls are gonna start a riot. cause i told em to. you’re gonna sneak into the break room. there’s a window a few inches up from the floor. break the window and—“ she explained, making sure to keep her voice down. you were a bit wary of her little ‘plan’. “wait, won’t that set the alarm off?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. “lemme ask you a question. whats more worth it — freedom or a goddamn alarm?” “.. im guessing you want me to say freedom?” she nods, then patting your shoulder approvingly. “back to what i was saying, after you’ve broken the window, there’s someone waiting for you on the other side. the security cameras should be busted by then. ill follow you.” her confidence in her plans certainly amazed you. “don’t screw this up.” “i won’t.” “good. now.. why don’t you go read a book?” she suggested before walking off. she was strange, like really strange. sometimes ellie tended to say things that didn’t really make any sense. it was also a rumour that ellie had hallucinations. she’d just sit up in the middle of the night and talk to.. nobody, or she’d stare into the mirror talking to seemingly nobody. was that maybe why she’d been so crazy? because she was fighting her own demons? you didn’t know. the riot began. you heard them in the lunch room banging their trays against the metal tables, yelling at the prison guards and attacking some. you run away into the break room. there were metal bars against the windows. “how the hell am i gonna remove this?” you mumble to yourself as you look around. you search under tables like a madwoman, even searching the pockets of the coats suspended from the metal coat rack.

you heard angels sing once you find a toolbox hidden away underneath a bench. you look at the screws. you needed a flat looking screwdriver. you search the toolbox for one that loosely resembles the screws and you hurry to the window with a chair. standing on the chair, you quickly unscrew the screws and you pull the bars from the window. with the metal bars in hand, you smash the window, all the little glass pieces flying everywhere as the prison alarms go off simultaneously. you look back at the door to the break room. ellie would come, she valued her freedom more than anything in this world.

and with all the uncertainty in your body, you followed through. you jumped down into the parking lot while the alarms ring all throughout the prison. there had been someone else on the other side. a woman with curly hair and tan skin, driving some beat up blue honda. she was pretty. “cmon, hurry and get in. we’re gonna floor it as soon as ellie gets here.” she said, relatively calm as if she’d done this before. you hop into the backseat of her car anxiously. your leg shakes and you bite your nails. looking around at the security cameras, you found that they were, in fact not busted. “that goddamn liar!” she exclaimed as you hit your hands against your thighs. “you’re an idiot for trusting her. ellie never holds her word. she said she’d pay me back a year ago. she owes me $14,000 that she still won’t pay back.” the woman says as she looks at you through the mirror above her. you didn’t trust her. nobody did. but she was a good convincing person and an even better liar. while you were sitting in the back of the car, you recalled all the times she’d attempted to kill you. she gave you concussions, she stabbed you with makeshift knives, she got her minions to beat you half to death. what had you done in retaliation? well, you stabbed her, hung her from a bathroom stall with your sheets, wounded her badly and proceeded to shoot air into the major vein until her heart almost exploded out of her chest. the two have you had gone tit for tat for a while. but is it really an appropriate time to reminisce on old memories? not at all.

the sound of her shoes hitting the ground caught your attention. you look over and see her running towards the car, hopping in her front seat and slamming the door shut. “cmon, drive dina! step on it!” she demanded as she hits her hands against the dashboard. the woman, dina, steps on the gas. the gates of the prison had been closing slowly, leaving just enough room for the car to slither out. ellie cheers to herself. why was she cheering? ellie suddenly turns to you. “we have to get out of texas. dina here is gonna take us halfway to.. somewhere. ive already arranged a place for us to stay. if you screw up? ill strangle you with the hem of your shirt.” her tone falters between the lines of something serious and something a little playful. what was this? why were you doing this with her? you’d been royally screwed now if you weren’t before.

𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚇 | 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟽

you drove for hours on end while ellie sat in the front, blabbering about seemingly nothing. she sat in the front, smoking weed and changing the radio station until she settled on some sorta rock station. “ellie, do you realize how much you owe to me?” dina asks seriously as she takes the two of you through some sort of desert. “mm.. how much?” “14k. you owe me big time, ellie.” ellie laughs. she turns to you, whites of her eyes turning a light red colour. “can you believe her? me? owing her 14k? that’s insane.” she sat there laughing to herself. dinas iron clad grip on the steering wheel told you what you needed to know. she was fed up with ellies shit.

dina stops the car abruptly on the side of the sandy road. she turns to ellie with a face full of fury. “yknow, ive offered you enough. i said you can pay in installments. you didn’t pay. i gave you time. you still won’t pay. now im being complicit in your fucking prison break!” dina exclaimed. ellies laughing almost instantly stopped as dina raised her voice. “you don’t seem to understand how this works. i don’t owe anyone anything. the way ive paid you back was giving you a good fuck like you asked.” “ellie, i was as high as a kite when i said that! jesus christ, you really don’t listen do you?” you don’t intervene even though ellie is looking for you to do so. something you learned was to never fight battles that weren’t yours. this was between them.

they argued. a lot. going back and forth while ellie took super long drags of the joint between her fingers. dinas car reeks of the smell of weed. ellie wouldn’t take anything seriously until dina raises her hand to smack the daylights out of her. a ringing sound resonates throughout ellies ears as she looks at dina in shock. “why the fuck would you slap me?” “i.. i don’t know.” dina was shocked and you were equally as shocked. ellie opens the car door and she gets out. “get out the car.” she says to you, opening your door. “what, but we’re in the middle of the—“ “get out the fucking car!” ellie yells. you get out. “thanks for nothing. don’t call me again when your boyfriend can’t make you cum!” ellie yells at dina, flipping her off before grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you off into the sunset. you look back at dina and you see her with a look of shock on her face. as if now she regrets what she’d done.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷 after that day, dina hadn’t come around anymore. maybe because she was under investigation for helping you and ellie escape prison. you and ellie lived in a rv and it was pretty peaceful. she chilled on trying to kill you for a while. you sat outside in a beach chair, looking at the sunrise with a cup of tea.

she joins you, sitting in the chair right next to yours. she was smoking a cigarette. “i wanna do something with you. before that ‘normal life’ you want.” she said as she looked at you. “one last heist.” she exhales the smoke, the smell of tobacco entering your nose. “a heist? ellie, you know we can’t do that anymore. the police have our photos.. and fingerprints.” “they’ve had our photos and prints since 2017, baby.” those goddamn pet names that rolled off of her tongue made you a little weak in the knees. you hated her but you couldn’t hate her voice. “ellie, this isn’t a good idea. we need to think about this. the last time you tried to pull off a heist, you almost got arrested.” you tried to be the voice of reason in this ‘relationship’ (or lack therefore of.) “i hate doing this, ellie. i want a normal life. i wanna go home.” your voice was sad. “and what happens if you go back home? your parents will be happy to see you, naturally. someone could betray you. your mother, your brother. anyone.” her words hang in the air as she looks at you. she puts her cigarette out in the makeshift ashtray that sat on a small wooden table. “what do i always tell you?” you thought about it for a moment. ellie had lots of weird sayings. so you take a guess. “hate is the worlds strongest motivator?” she nods her head. “and what else?” “the person who doesn’t risk, cannot win? but quick question— what does that have to do with anything?” she gets up and she stands in front of you. she squats down to your eye level.

“you’re either one of two things in life. a fox or a rabbit. the fox will hunt the rabbit and won’t back down till it gets what it wants. the rabbit will run for its life so the fox doesn’t let the fox get it. who would you wanna be in life?” ellie had a strange way of looking at life. maybe when you’ve been locked up for so long, attempted to escape so many times and had some mental issues, your outlook on life changes drastically. her analogies always made you wonder how she’d even been able to look at life this way. when you don’t answer her question, she answers for you. “a fox. you wanna be a fox. right now? you’re being a rabbit. tighten the fuck up.” her hands give your thighs a few slaps as she spoke. they were a bit hard but not hard enough to leave marks. after your little talk, she goes back into the rv.

you’re sat there with a racing mind and a swell of emotions. the once warm tea had gone cold. whatever she’d been planning to do on this heist must’ve boosted her head up enough to the point where she could go around, telling people to tighten the fuck up. you resented her heavily. ellie wasn’t a hard person to hate. well, maybe a better word is loathe. she was a terrible person with no moral compass. she didn’t care about anyone else but herself. and maybe she’d been going through things on her own, but she had multiple options to get help. she lived knowing that she’d survive, and only would be at the top of the food chain. as if.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

ellie still wanted your help. she tried everything to convince you. a share of her earnings. a 60/40 share (you having 60%, leaving the other 40% to her.) but you don’t budge. she needed to think, her brain wasn’t functioning well at finding a different approach. maybe she could just let you go with that ‘normal life’ you’ve always wanted. but this wasn’t something she could just easily do alone. it was much bigger than that. and she also couldn’t threaten you cause then you’d definitely run away. ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kind to someone. she’d been met with a harsh response to anything she’d ever done in life, so she projected her issues onto other people. maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but she felt like she had nothing to lose.

she approaches you slowly. “we should talk.” she mumbled. “about.. what?” you ask. “the heist.” “ellie, no—“ “just hear me out please.” she takes a breath before she starts talking. “i swear we won’t get caught. and if we do miraculously, ill take the blame. you can say i kidnapped you or something.” “why are you do adamant about doing this? do you even have a reason?” ellie slowly shakes her head. she sits next to you. her hands fall in her lap as she twiddled with her fingers. “yknow, i don’t really know. i just get these urges to do these things that don’t really make sense.” her tone was genuine, but you werent sure. ellie had a tendency to guilt trip you into doing things that you really didn’t wanna do all because you were the only person she had left and nobody else would do this for her. of course you knew what she was going through, albeit you didn’t understand on a personal level as she had because she was living with this everyday.

you saw all her pill bottles — some SSRI’s, something for her hallucinations, and some other stuff with scratched off labels. “ellie, i really hope you’re not trying to guilt trip me into doing this heist with you.” a part of you was fed up with her shit, just like dina had been. but another part of you wanted to be there for her (even though she didn’t open up), and you also like liked her a little. not too much. “of course this isn’t me guilt tripping you. in fact, you don’t even have to worry about it.” she turns to you and she smiles. it felt weird seeing her smile. with all that serotonin she got from the SSRI’s, she didn’t really ever smile. you didn’t put too much thought into it. you just hoped she wouldn’t do anything impulsive.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

ellie was up early the next morning. it was six something. she was pacing around outside while she was biting her nails. she was nervous or anxious about something. sometimes you wished you you’d be in ellies brain when she was being like this or being way too brief with her explanations when there was clearly something up with her.

what was she thinking about now? well, you. she was thinking about you. how long you’d put up with her, how long you’d live. stuff like that. there’s only one certainty in life — death. everyone inevitably dies one day even though they may not wanna. ellie planned on dying on her own terms. something else ellie thinks about often was her life before all this. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her dad. she missed him. she also missed dina. ellie had dated a few people in the past, some girl named cat and dina. they didn’t end up really working out together because of ellies impulsive nature, but they stayed friends until.. the incident when dina slapped ellie.

in her own way, ellie wanted her old life back as did you. she wanted to wake up to the smell of joels coffee and dinas sleeping form in her bed, all that pretty curly hair sprawled over her pillow. but she knew what she was doing when she made this decision. she knew what she was doing when she decided to steal the identity of some rich lawyer so she could withdrawal all their money for herself. she knew what she was doing when she’d went to that very same lawyers office with an unregistered pistol, robbing them and leaving them with practically nothing. this couldn’t have happened coincidentally. she wanted her old brain back. the one that didn’t have violent and impulsive thoughts. the one that didn’t keep replaying her heinous crimes.

“you’re a mess.” ellie looks up. she sees herself wearing her prison uniform. her hair was much longer then (she’d cut most of it off.) “don’t tell me that. you’re a mess too.” she says to herself. “you want this heist so bad, then do it yourself. it’s nothing you can’t handle.” the split image of ellie was pushing her hands into her pockets and looking at the trees around her. “what’s stopping you?” “you know the answer to that question.” “i don’t. tell me ellie, what’s stopping you?” “y/n.”

as she says that, she hears your footfall behind her. she looks back at you and then back to where the other copy of herself had been. the other ellie was gone. you approach her slowly. “who were you talking to?” you ask, offering her a glass of orange juice that you’d made. “nobody. and uh, the heist.. it’s off.” she muttered as she takes a sip of the orange juice, quenching a thirst she didn’t know she had. “oh, well, that’s good.” you nod in approval. “im sorry.” ellie said it loud enough for your ears only. “i fucked up big time. i know i did. im sorry for putting you through this. im so sorry.” ellie almost never apologized for anything. your face flashes with multiple emotions at once, not sure which one you should feel right now. “it’s.. okay. it’s gonna take me some time to forgive you, but id like to try.” ellie turns to you once you finish speaking and she gives you a firm pat on the shoulder before heading towards the rv.

you felt yourself smiling a bit. you always knew she could do it. you just had to wait for her.

#wlfabby #tlou #the last of us #the last of us two #the last of us part two #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams x female!reader #ellie williams x afab!reader #tlou x reader #reader insert

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 5 months

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Addiction

Part Four: Why'd You Only Call Me When You're Lonely?

Series Masterlist

Warnings: smut, language, references to cheating

A/N: This part includes a time jump of about six months into the future. I apologize in advance...🤭

This world is obsessed with morality. Its drilled into you as a child: lying is wrong, cheating is unethical, stealing is illegal. You're told that there are rules, with very little wiggle room left for interpretation, and when you break those rules, there are consequences to your actions.

As an adult, there are still rules, sure, but short of committing an actual crime, most of the time, the only thing you'll be left to face when you make a morally wrong choice is your conscience. That, and a guilt that will eat you alive.

It's why your stomach turned every time you relived your nights with Jack in your mind, even though it was the best sex you'd had in your life. It's also why your boyfriend of three years had just admitted to cheating on you.

"Baby, please, say something." Darien's voice drug you kicking and screaming back to reality. You shut your eyes tight, and opened them again, hoping that you were just in the midst of the worst nightmare ever.

Please wake the fuck up.

"If you want to scream, cry, hit me, anything, do it. I just can't stand the silence." You tightly gripped the arms of your chair, digging your nails into the leather. His pitiful tone made your skin crawl. You looked at Darien as he sat across from you, and for the first time, you saw him how the world saw him, the rose colored glasses shattered before you.

Sad, boring, a pathetic excuse for a man.

You had given him the best three years of your life, short of the last 72 hours, and he had the nerve to throw it away to fuck some girl.

The sound that left your mouth when you finally opened it was akin to a witch's cackle.

"Is there something funny?" Darien gave you an incredulous look as you continued to laugh, your face quickly heating up as you struggled to catch a breath. He balled up his fists in anger, standing to pace the room. "I tell you that I slept with someone else, and all you can do is laugh?" Darien spat at you, rage building in his chest. It was like watching a toddler throw a tantrum after you told him he couldn't have dessert.

The longer you watched, the sorrier you felt for him, and the more you laughed. He had no idea that he had given you the out that you'd been waiting for. Sure, this was your karma for what you had done. You could accept that you were just as guilty as he was, but your penitence came with a reward. You no longer had to feel any guilt for cheating on him. If you knew this is what freedom felt like, you would have cheated on him a lot sooner.

"I'm sorry, its just...", you paused to wipe the tears from your lashes, "I thought I would care a lot more than I do, ya know?" You simply shrugged, but you might as well have lit him on fire, the way he reacted.

"Do you fuckin' care that this wasn't the first time we slept together? We've been sleeping together for months, every work trip. Sometimes we'd just meet up at a hotel to fuck." Darien's face was inches from yours, you could smell the cheap beer on his breath. He threw his words at you with the intention to hurt you and further wound your relationship, but you couldn't wound something that was already dead.

Darien staggered back as you stood. "Do you feel better now?", you asked as you shrugged on your coat and grabbed your bag. "Anything else you want to get off your chest tonight?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze dropping to the ground as the adrenaline wore off. "Hey, don't stop now on my account.", you threw your words over your shoulder as you found your keys.

"Where are you going?", he gritted out between clenched teeth, as you opened the door.

"None of your business", you bit back. God, it felt good to not have to lie. "I want you out of here by Sunday." You punctuated your words with a slam of the door as you left your apartment.

You figured you had a couple of minutes before the shock of what had just happened would hit you, and you didn't want to lose any momentum. The only thing you could think of was Jack, and how much you needed to see him right now.

He picked up on the second ring. "Are you okay?" He sounded worried. "Yeah, I'm okay." You shuffled your feet on the sidewalk, trying to keep warm as you listened to the silence between the two of you for a second. "One second." You heard movement in the background, a rustling, before it was quiet again. You assumed that she was there and Jack had to move to a different room so she wouldn't hear your conversation.

"Why are you calling?" It had only been a couple hours since you'd seen Jack, your call definitely came as a surprise to him. "I need to see you. Can I come to your hotel room?" You held your breath, waiting for him to respond. He let out a long sigh.

"No."

You felt a pain in your chest at his rejection. All of the confidence you'd just gained from finally standing up for yourself and what you wanted, was lost. You had to have Jack, it was the only thing you were sure of right now, and you'd do anything to get him. You weren't sure you were going to make it through the night without his touch.

"Please?" You weren't above begging. How easily you had fallen to your knees in front of him before. There was no doubt who held the cards.

"You belong to me, always will." You repeated those words over and over in your head.

His pause felt like it lasted for days.

"I'll send a car to come get you."

****

SIX MONTHS LATER

You didn't know it at the time, but six months ago, you had willingly walked into the lion's den and set up home there. You signed your life away to live in the shadows with Jack, and for some twisted reason, you'd never been happier.

There were rules of course; any indecent relationship has rules.

You kept communication to a minimum and never called, only texted. You would never meet at each other's places, only at a secondary location, never the same place twice, that Jack would send you the location to. Whenever he traveled for work, you traveled as well, visiting countries you'd only dreamed of traveling to as a kid, sometimes barely leaving your hotel room.

After your breakup with Darien, Jack moved you into an apartment on the Upper East Side. It was larger than any apartment you'd ever lived in before, decorated with furniture that cost more than you made in a month at your job. The same job that you eventually ended up quitting at Jack's request. You hated that dead end job, so you didn't even hesitate turning in your two weeks notice.

"Its for your own protection", Jack warned, and in turn for your sacrifice, you never wanted for anything.

Clothes, shoes, vacations, it didn't matter.

If you asked for it, it was yours.

You didn't know anyone who wouldn't kill to be in your designer shoes.

The only rule you couldn't stand but still followed: never talk or ask about her.

For all intents and purposes, at least in the public eye, Jack was in a loving, committed relationship with Claire Barbour-Beckham. That was the name of the woman you'd met in the elevator that first night.

Claire. Even her name sounded bitchy.

She was American royalty, heir to the Barbour-Beckham publishing empire, a model, and soon to be billionaire, once her father passed on the throne. Her resume was impressive, much to your annoyance, and even you had to admit they looked good together.

The musical mogul and the model, that old love story. Those always end well.

In front of the cameras they were the perfect couple, two young kids who had fallen in love by chance, but behind closed doors, they were anything but happy. You knew, because most nights when Jack summoned you, he was quiet and tense, and in the throws of passion he would let it slip how miserable she made him.

You served a role for him. You were a direct juxtaposition to the life he had with Claire. You were the slut to her prude, the calm to her unrest, a dirty secret that he could hide from prying eyes. Just as he told you, you belonged to him, and when the two of you were together, even if it was just for a moment, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist.

In the back of your mind, you knew you were nothing more than the other woman, but it didn't matter to you. The way he touched you, spoke to you, god, the way he fucked you till you saw stars, made you feel special, important, if only in his eyes.You even started to let yourself believe that maybe he belonged to you as well.

You were falling in love with Jack Harlow. You were just hoping you wouldn't come to regret it.

****

The last couple of nights Jack had gone radio silent with you. You sent text after text trying to get his attention, but they all went unanswered. You would have even thought to break one of the rules, but you quickly went from annoyed to anxious. Jack would always respond to your texts, even if they were one word answers.

You hesitated before pressing his number in your phone. You counted the rings, one, two, three, four, tapping your foot impatiently with each one.

"Hello?" The woman's voice on the other line startled you. You quickly hung up, tossing your phone on to the floor, a hand clamped over your mouth to suppress your scream. You were sure your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you paced your apartment. Your fingers and toes went numb as you stared at your phone. You weren't sure what you were expecting; for her to call back, demanding to know who had called her boyfriend at midnight?

You had been staring at the screen for hours when you finally got a notification.

Jack: We're leaving for Louisville first thing in the morning. Be ready at 6am.

****

You expected Jack to be upset with you when you met up at the jet the next morning, but if anything he was more affectionate than usual, kissing and touching you in front of his security team. There was no usual quickie in the airplane bathroom, Jack instead pulling you into his lap and resting his head on your chest as the two of you fell asleep for the rest of the flight.

When he left you in his apartment that morning to go to the studio, a kiss to your forehead as he was heading out the door, it was the first time you felt like you weren't playing house for a couple of hours until he had to go back to his real life. You got a taste of what it might have been to live in the light, no shame for what you were doing, night after night.

You were stepping out of the shower, starting to get ready for dinner when you heard the front door quickly open and slam shut. You wrapped a towel around your body before walking out into the kitchen. Jack had a tight grip on the kitchen counter, his head bowed, not having heard you walk in.

You could feel the heat and anger radiating off of his body from where you stood, his face a deep red. A small cough from you made his head shoot up in your direction. For a second, you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften as he looked at you before his stoic expression returned.

"Get in the bedroom." He barked out as he shed his jacket, throwing it on the counter. You tightened your towel around your chest. "Jack, is something w-?"

"Now!" His booming voice echoed through the apartment. You clenched your thighs together, feeling yourself growing wet at his commands as you walked back to the bedroom. You allowed your towel to drop to the floor and slowly climbed on top of the mattress, laying on your stomach. You listened to Jack's footsteps as he walked around the room getting undressed, before you felt his knee dip into the mattress.

"You don't know how badly I need you right now." His gruff voice was a stark contrast to the way he touched you, gently caressing your skin. You felt his soft fingers graze against the back of your thighs, climbing up toward your ass where he grabbed a handful, making you groan out. He used a knee to push your legs further apart, forcing you up onto your knees, presenting your glistening core to him. You shivered as he drug a finger through your folds, feeling how wet you were. "I love how you're always so wet for me."

"Mhm." You nodded, gripping the sheets in your fists, your chest pressed against the bed. You looked back over your shoulder, watching Jack stroke himself before he lined himself up with your entrance. "Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you." Your back arched instinctively as he began to push himself inside your pussy, slowly at first so you could adjust to his length. You could only moan out, the fullness taking your breath away.

You felt a hard slap come down on one of your ass cheeks when you didn't comply. "Tell me how badly you want it, or we're done here." You whimpered, feeling the sting against your skin. You pushed your hips against his pelvis to try to initiate movement, but he held you in place, his digits digging into the delicate flesh of your hips.

"Fuck, I want you to fuck me so hard, Jack, please", you cried out as you felt him begin to pull out of you.

"What's our safe word?", he asked as he slowly started to move his hips back and forth. "Waldorf", you squeaked out, feeling the coil in your stomach already begin to tighten. With your confirmation he set a vicious pace, thrusting himself in and out of your pussy so forcefully, you couldn't steady yourself, collapsing onto the bed, completely at his mercy.

"Fuck, you feel so good. So fuckin' tight." Jack gritted out, never faltering as he felt warmth start to pool into his stomach. It didn't take much to get you off when he was this rough with you, the friction each time he hit against your clit was quickly bringing you to your climax. He felt your walls flutter around him as your orgasm quickly came crashing down on you, moans and squeals rolling off your tongue as he continued to fuck you.

"Jack", your voice was just above a whisper. "Jack, please." You needed a second to catch your breath, the sensation overwhelming, but he had no intention of slowing down. He was like an animal, his weight beginning to fall on top of you, pushing him deeper inside of your pussy, till it was almost too much. You called his name again, but his guttural, loud grunts drowned you out.

"Waldorf!", you finally called out just as you hit your second orgasm, beginning to panic. Jack pulled away from you immediately, realizing he had quickly lost control. You rolled onto your back, your chest heaving as you watched him stand at the foot of the bed, his face riddled with worry.

"I'm sorry, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He broke character, his eyes roaming your body for any potential bruises. "Fuck!", he raked his hands through his hair, grabbing fistfuls in frustration.

"I'm fine", you reassured him, sitting up in the bed. "I just needed a minute. You didn't hurt me. C'mere, please." You opened your arms out to him, inviting him to lay with you. Jack moved to hover over you, his hands framing your face. You pulled his body on top of you when you felt him hesitate, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"I don't wanna do this without you", Jack whispered as he stroked your cheek. "Do what, baby?", you asked as you stroked the curls at the nape of his neck. His gaze dropped to your lips, gently moving in to kiss you before peppering kisses along your jawline. "I'm sorry", he mumbled against your skin. You nodded, feeling like he was apologizing for more than the rough sex. "I know, baby. I know", you repeated as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, taking a few deep breaths.

You'd only been in love a few times in your life, but you knew what it felt like. It was nothing like what you saw in movies as a teenager. That butterflies in your stomach, can't sleep, can't eat type of love was bullshit in your opinion. It wasn't real, a fleeting feeling that was quickly replaced with resentment when you realized they didn't feel the same.

The way you'd come to know Jack, the one who wasn't forced to play games for the public, was the Jack that you came to love. While most people would scoff at your relationship, you knew that you saw a side of him that no one else got to see, stripped down, vulnerable, without any preconceived notions about who he was or what he could offer. The "baring your soul to each other" kind of love was the only type of loved that mattered to you. Its what you had with Jack.

Your turned your head, your lips grazing against his ear. "I love you, Jack."

You felt his breath hitch against your chest, frozen for a second, before he pushed himself off of you.

"No." He shook his head as he stood up. "No you don't."

"What? Yes, I love you, Jack." You sat up in the bed, covering yourself with the sheets. "I love you so much."

"Stop saying that. You don't know what you're talking about." Jack stepped back into his boxers and jeans, leaving you in the room. You felt your eyes start to burn as tears built in your lashes. You knees felt week as you tried to stand up. Jack was back in the kitchen, the same spot you found him when he came home.

"How can you say I don't love you?", you choked out between tears. Jack resisted the urge to look at you, knowing he wouldn't be able do what he needed to do if he got one look at your face. "Because we barely know each other. You don't know anything about me." His hand hurt from balling his fists up so tight. You were sobbing at this point, unable to hold back your tears.

"I do know you!", you took steps towards him, but he turned his back to you. You continued anyway. "I know you're kind. I know you'd do anything to protect me. I know that you love me too, even if you can't admit it yet."

"Stop!" You jumped when Jack pounded his fist on the counter. As he turned to look at you, you recognized the face he had on. It was the same one that Darien had when you tried to kiss him that night before he admitted his wrongdoing. Disgust.

"There is not a part of me that loves you. You were just good for a fuck when I got bored. Nothing else." You thought you were going to throw up everywhere.

"I love Claire." You shook your head in disbelief, wiping the wetness off of your cheeks. "No, I don't believe it for a second. You don't fuck me, touch me, kiss me the way you do, and love her. I don't believe you!" You grabbed a glass that was sitting on the counter, chucking it at him, the cup completely missing him and crashing onto the floor behind him. You let out a huff, willing yourself not to start crying again.

"I do love her." Jack softly punched his fist repeatedly into the counter, hesitating with his next words. "We're engaged." He muttered out. "We're getting married in a couple of weeks."

You felt a white hot burning across your body like you'd just been stabbed in the stomach, all air leaving your chest. Your knees buckled underneath you as you fell to the ground.

You were so, so wrong about everything. It wasn't the guilt that was going to eat you alive, it was the heartbreak. Could you really feel bad for someone who walked into the lion's den stupid enough to think they wouldn't get hurt?

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

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@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

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@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

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@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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mantisgodsart · 23 days

Text

We have finally finished this project, and thus, The World's Worst Dating Sim is finally DONE! Just in time for April Fools Day. Now, with our six new contestants, choose, uhh... who's dateable? Or not dateable? This last batch was determined almost entirely by People Telling Us Who To Add, contains multiple AUs, and is... hmm. "Unconventional" may be a good term? Half of these are probably undateable but you can still shoot your shot.

As previously, it can be a platonic date if you want, you just can't be neutral. Deadlander Lambda belongs to @cordycepsbian and has been moved into our studio for duration of this poll. Profiles below the cut.

(we're linking the first poll here)

Deadlander Lambda - Maybe - Deadlander - Good question - At least a little bit

This, uhh...

...is this safe? We don't think this is safe. ..."Already had kids before"? What do you mean it's a parent?

...well, we can't get it out of the studio, so it's an option now? We guess? This... really doesn't seem like a good idea.

Rogu - He/him - Ant drone - Very rude to ask a gentleman that, don't you think? - I wouldn't worry about that.

A charming mystery from somewhere only described as "a faraway land", though he wasn't quite scheduled in this lineup, we think we can make an exception. This silver-tongued bug seems to be able to say just what's needed to get under your skin... and from the look of it, he's angling to take you somewhere private.

...come to think of it, haven't we seen that face before? On a poster, maybe? Well, it's not a surprise he's been modelling for things, he's certainly got a pretty enough face for it, but why do we feel... nervous, all of a sudden?

Carmina - She/(scribbled in)it - (illegible) - (illegible) - (illegible)(scribbled out with "No longer relevant" written in its place)

...where is she? She was meant to show up hours ago. What on earth could have held her up this long?

Pebbles - He/him - Moth ("iterator") - Juvenile (estimated) - Unclear

Right out of surgery, this one. While we're not sure if it's entirely responsible to include this one, and we certainly don't speak whatever language he's speaking... he's cute, isn't he? And looking for a home? Well, maybe if you're the sort of person who might want to rescue a domestic moth in a bad situation...

Wereweevil Vi - It/its (wereweevil form) - Wereweevil - 19 - Aro

Pre-existing hangups mean that you can only date this one in wereweevil form. Good luck.

Kina - She/her - Mantis (big) - Haven't asked - Also haven't asked

Well, we assume that you can do less lethal than the bandit who people mostly know thanks to her former job as a corpse disposal unit, but some people might be into that sort of thing, honestly. Are you, perchance, also a mantis?

#our art #bug fables #finished #watercolor #ocs #other peoples ocs #deadlander lambda #monsieur scarlet #carmina #five pebbles #wereweevil vi #kina #valentines #or we're tagging it as such for organization its actually an april fools poll #we treat the two events with about the same gravity so it fits #for clarification purposes: five pebbles is several centuries old and would be very offended at being called juvenile #however he is less than an inch tall and built like a stick and doesnt speak bugnish at all #so he spends most of his time lurking beneath furniture and trying to bite people with his new mouth. much to the hospitals distaste.#although the wereweevil is vi or at least an aspect of her it is not a terribly sapient one #it is hungry and afraid and desperate and lashing out in search of any pack #in search of ANY connection it can find #and the only way it knows how to do that is by violently mauling everyone and everything in its path so uhh good luck bucko #wereweevil vi in normal form has way too many hangups over intimacy to agree to an outing and must be approached like a feral cat #we know about the normal timeline and we added extra years so that she has the time to acquire more problems #thus ends our FAQ. good luck #EDIT: typo in the tags. ough

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velvet-paradox · 9 months

Text

Heartstrings (Part Two)

Heartstrings (Part Two) Fandom: Sleep Token (band) Pairing: Eventual Vessel x Female reader, (brief) IV x Female reader Length: Short Warnings: Eventual NSFW, 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, strong language, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, supernatural elements, smitten Vessel, a quick smooch, a dash of angst at the end. This part is a bit shorter but there’s more to come so... yeah! Tagging: @synnersaint @megangovier20 @thesoundresoundsecho

ENJOY!!!

True to your word, he'd smile at a welcomed call of HELLLOOOO HANDSOME! or LOOKING GOOD BOY! something affirming that had Vessel walking a little taller that day, confident through your eyes, carrying himself with a higher weight.

That is, until you presented him with a necklace made of coins and tiny metal beads one evening at the coffee shop, sitting outside with a drink of your own during his break. Louie had taken an instant shine to you, even the bag under his eyes lit up when you hooked your arm through Vessel's, allowing you to snag a chocolate éclair; ion the house of course.

"Where the hell did you find that ratty old thing anyway?"

"In the dirt. Where else?" You scrunched up your nose, looking it over.

"The dirt?! Why-- wait. Why are you digging around in dirt?"

You shrugged. "Because you find things in dirt, why else? See, I'm thinking this thing has some sort of power to it, right? So what if it controls our destiny, our fate. You have it for... oh say three days tops, then it's my turn and we have to do whatever the other one says or we'll be cursed." You made a spooky sound that just might frighten a small child into sleeping with a night light for the foreseeable future.

"What are you nine?"

You mocked his suggestion and took a sip of your coffee, holding out the rank and blackened necklace across from him, he was quick to cover his croissant from any rusty or tetanus laden crumbs in your palm.

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"It'll be a disaster." Vessel grumbled but enjoyed the amusement on your face as you admired the thing. ....

"I'm not doing that!"

"You have to. It's my turn!" you seethed behind the dumpster of the basketball court at the college. "A dare is a dare, remember?"

Oh did he! You two had been at this twisted little game for years now. Egging each other on, upping the other to the most dramatic of ideas and pranks. Most of the time it was harmless little dares, mainly played to embarrass one another, to see the other fail in the most creative of ways but sometimes, oh God, sometimes either one of your would get downright nasty and force the hand of the other to do something diabolical. Not illegal, but it could sometimes feels that way.

Vessel had also began to express himself more so through masks than his attire. Always in black, head to toe, painting his nails and experimenting with body paint. He wished t blend in to the background of the world around him than participate in the grind. Thankfully Louie was understanding and let him try out new looks, as long as he didn't spook off the customers of course.

It was your turn, wearing the gaudy thing as you pointed out the biggest, broadest man on the court. Daring Vessel to slink around the benches, unnoticed obviously and creep under, tie his laces together so that when he stood up from his water break, he'd trip and fall in front of the whole court. What a riot, you exclaimed, waggling your fingers in his face.

You danced your eyebrows with a grin. "Are you game?" ....

"I told you that was a bad idea!"

"Oh calm down, it's not that bad."

Vessel pinched the bridge of his nose, scared that it might be broken and he'd only be making it worse, wincing as you held the underside of your shirt to his it. The skin of your belly, the purple underwire of your bra just within view.

"He could've taken your eye out."

"I wish he would've!" Vessel complained but the way you'd tended to him, more than once was a relief for a number of reasons. He'd never been this cared for, catered to, cherished like some dainty thing. He was too tall and gangly in middle school which transferred easily to high school and well after. Only after his mid-twenties did he feel like he'd grown into his features. Even with your constant approval that he was attractive, he was still on the bottom shelf of disbelief.

The praise was welcomed though. Cozy. You felt like home.

You moved your legs, standing closer over him on the bench, your legs shadowing over his own. You could easily just straddle his lap if you wanted. Not that he'd mind. It would be awkward as shit at first and with how you lived life, you might as well.

His mother, like Louie, was welcoming in your budding friendship in high school, happy to have a girl in the house, a daughter she didn't have. You were invited to family events, Christmases, birthday's and the like. Your pictures on their fridge. You were a part of the family.

Nothing sexual had been shared between you, though on one occasion you did plant lingering kiss on his lips when a girl that was after him and apparently wasn't hearing the word NO, gave chase at a party. He was panicked, looking for an escape, hot on Vessel's heels he finally ran into you and frantically begged for help.

He was giddy about it. Not even caring that his eyes were still closed when you pulled away and embraced him. He thought about that a lot.

He did feel a pang of jealousy when you'd come over to the house Vessel shared with his three best counterparts. You'd share a bottle of booze, if you were truly feeling frisky that night you'd drink it straight and pass it directly to III who'd either saunter over to you, while you danced or would pretend to lasso you to him. You never asked him to dance.

He'd watch though.

He was always watching.

Observing the night, logging things away in another fucked up notebook, scribbled down lyrics or events to remember later. A memory he might've otherwise forgotten.

Vessel wrote poems, sonnets, haikus, little blurbs of life, clinging to them as if they'd save him one day, a token of appreciation maybe. A trade. An IOU for an unforeseen date.

Like the time he caught you wrapped up in the arms of IV, another night of dancing and drinking and laughing too loudly and not giving a fuck. You'd run off to the bathroom and hadn't come back. Vessel, drunk on his own had sought you out, toying with the necklace around his neck only to find the bathroom empty.

The door to IV's room was cracked, red light screaming out into the hall.

He didn't know what he'd find behind that door but it certainly was not you, on IV's lap, grinding and kissing him in a way Vessel had only seen in softcore porn. All tongue and teeth, smiling and writhing against one of his best friends. Too lost in each other, neither one of you had noticed or had been bothered. Vessel ground his teeth and left the door the way he'd found it.

He meant to write it down but instead polished off back to back shots in order to forget it all together.

When you two rejoined them that night, Vessel didn't say a word.

If it wasn't him you were to be kissing and laughing with, maybe he should play into the advances of the women around him.

Maybe if he blacked out, he could blackout what he'd seen. Block you out.

....

The mug in his hands was scalding hot, coils of steam made his eyes water as he sat alone at the coffee table holding on to the necklace. The game, the chase. What once was.

"Soooo what are you going to do then?" Sleep crept around the table with his little red paws, leaving behind puffs of dust. Those inky black eyes fluttered up at Vessel.

"I don't know. I don't know what I should do." Vessel shrugged, thumbing over one of the coins.

The moonlight got brighter as passing clouds exposed its bone white surface through the kitchen window.

"Play that little game, says I. See what she wants this time. It's been how long, my dear Ves?" Sleep questioned, floating up to rest on top of the refrigerator, tapping his tail on the ledge.

He had to squint in thought for a moment, images like passing train cars flashed behind his eyes. Stacks of journals, moving boxes, burnt plates of roast, pop-overs that popped too much over, Sleep slinking into his bed to sleep at his feet, a broken mirror and hell of a lot of tears. The accident. The bandages. The stares.

"Three years."

"Ah yes," Sleep hummed as he slid down the fridge and flopped himself over Vessel's shoulder. "That was when I came to you. A friend. A match to light your way. You just didn't know I was the headlight on the train of your deep dark tunnel you'd found yourself in," that admittance, even though positively true made him sick, Vessel didn't like to think about that. That was a whole other version of him he didn't want to introduce to anyone. "You are a different person now though, maybe your friend is too. What harm would it do, really?"

It took Vessel two days of wracking his brain around the necklace, stitched at one end making it whole once again. He touched it and whether he was just dog tired or Sleep had anything to do with it, he was now back transported to that awful place.

And he hated it.

Part Three

#eventual romance #eventual smut #vessel x you #vessel x reader #vessel x female reader #iv x you #sleep token imagine #sleep token fic #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #vessel imgaine #vessel fic #next chapter will be longer i promise

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necros-writing-stuff · 5 months

Note

(Spoiler warning about some really obscure scenes in-game. Also, tw: mentions of human trafficking) Do you think Eden and PC met in the past? Maybe when PC was younger? Ivory Wraith refers to Eden as an “old friend you never knew”, and Eden mentions the fishing magazine he/she reads was given to him/her by “an old friend”. If PC asks who his/her friend is, Eden just holds PC closer. “Old friend” MAY be referring to Bailey buuuut, and this might be a far fetched theory…

If you work in the docks, there’s a scene where you find a kid trapped and bound inside a cargo box. You’re able to secretly rescue the teen, take them somewhere to eat, and give them money to leave the town. (I think there’s also an option to bring them to the authorities, but I haven’t been able to trigger the scene again to try it. I didn’t because I don’t trust the police in this messed up town.) The kid is not able to speak but they communicate with body language. If your PC has the wolf TF, and you pass out in town, there’s a chance you might end up in the dog pound where you can find secret documents about the PC in an underground tunnel leading to the beach. You’re able to confront Bailey about it, but he simply takes the documents and the contents are never explained. The only thing that’s emphasized is that the letter B is written on the document. (B for “bought” maybe?) My theory is: what if Eden worked at the docks at one point and found a younger PC in the cargo. It’s possible there’s some illegal child trade or human trafficking happening in the town (considering the underground brothel exists, I don’t think it’s a far-fetched theory, but I know Vrel has a strict 18+ rule.), hence why the secret documents and secret tunnel exist. Eden may have found PC. That’s probably why they’re so convinced they’re meant to be PC’s protector.

I don’t believe anything is confirmed about PC’s past. So, if my theory were true, I can imagine PC may have tried to read things when they had just woken up and maybe struggled, one such thing being a random fishing magazine they swiped at the docks. Maybe Eden read it to PC, and PC gave it to them or forgot about it when Eden took them to the orphanage. If Eden is around 25, which I believe is what Vrel said, he could’ve been a teenager at the time and PC would’ve been a pre-teen since they’re 18 in-game.

I also have a theory, if PC is a reincarnation or time traveler as many theories suggest, maybe they traveled through and emerged from the lake. Eden might have found PC reading a random fishing magazine they found on fishing rock.

Sorry this message is so long, I just had to let this all out because it has been bothering me, and I’ve noticed Eden rescues PC like… A LOT so I imagined this scenario. I’m probably looking too much into it, but it’s a fun what-if to think about!

Hey! I really don't mind long posts like this- I love them actually, they're so fun to read so thank you for taking the time to write it all!

First up, I want to comment on Eden's age - they're mid to late 30s (same as Bailey) and old enough to be PC's dad. PC, at the start of the game, has just turned 18. Judging by how Vrel has said Eden dropped out of school before they could graduate and had very few jobs before entering the forest, I believe Eden was out of town before PC was even born.

So far the only thing that's been commented on in terms of PC's past is that Bailey might have known their parents (but I can't find the screenshot where this is said).

The reason I 100% think the old friend is Bailey (in terms of the magazine) is with all of the evidence that we have that the two genuinely share a bond (or shared, it seems some resentment has built on Bailey's side).

As for Ivory Wraith... its so hard to say with them. That scene makes it seem as though PC isn't included in what they're talking about - maybe it's to do with someone Eden used to be friends with who has changed and become a new person? Like Bailey's aforementioned complicated feelings?

So yeah, I don't believe that Eden and PC have met before. I think Eden's need to protect them comes from a place of "Oh shit I used to be like that." Eden, if they were an orphan, sees themself in PC and it kicks them into possessive big bear mode.

#spill your guts #anonymous #eden the hunter #cw trafficking

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inlocusmads · 10 months

Text

risk management ~ trystan x nora

Captain Thompson gives them an unfair intervention. They can't afford to fly into a rage and make a bad landing - not when plenty is at stake. (takes place shortly after Crimes Book 2, Ch 2)

wc: 2.5k+ || teen and up, strong language

A/N: Can you hear me screaming because YES this wonderful art commission was done by the very wonderful, the ever-lastingly marvellous Rose from @rosefuckinggenius who is in fact, a genius at this, and I've been so so grateful to have won the giveaway hosted by the very very kind @choicesficwriterscreations as a part of their Pride Month event! (I hope ya caught that subtle bi flag in the background!) I also ended up writing a fic to go along with it! Okay okay, enough of the prelude. I'll expand in an A/N at the end of the fic, okay okay okay let's go.

***

Chatter from outside the interrogation room suggested internal discord within the precinct. On one hand, Captain Thompson’s Special Force were thankful someone did their job for them. But it isn’t Thompson’s job until she gets to deliver a long speech in front of the reporters who still wrote about her. She stormed in, closing the door and pulling up a steel chair.

“Morning, Rose.” she sent Trystan the barest nod of acknowledgement.

Nora didn’t answer. Trystan mumbled a response under his breath, more focused on trying to figure out a comfortable position to rest his left hand. His left and Nora’s left were cuffed together on accounts of “disrupting an investigation” as the police swarmed to raid Ricochet’s lair of illegal artifacts. It was obviously a massive “fuck you” from Captain Thompson. A simple thank-you was too much to expect from her. The harmonious coexistence Mafalda had initially proposed was thrown out of the nearest window, given people would rather avail the agency’s services for a nominal fee than run to the police and have their intelligence challenged.

“There’s a pattern with you. Isn’t it? You happen to know Roger Dupont was a wanted man by the police. You seem to know his trademark style even before we can look into a break-in. I’d hate to say it, but this has crossed a line. This has gone from you offering --” Captain Thompson had to muster up the courage in order to spit it out - “- consultancy services for the police department, to actively crossing a police investigation. Interrupting, even. We would have had Roger Dupont without any involvement from third parties, including some of Dupont’s retailers. This has blown out of proportion. Now anyone in association with Dupont will skip town. This has surpassed our jurisdiction.”

“Put a bolo out for them, then.”

“This isn’t about the case, this is about you.”

“No, seriously - put a bolo out for Roger’s associates.”

“We have.”

“Good. Problem solved, no? Can we go? I don’t see the point in being kept here.”

“With all due respect, Captain-” Trystan interrupted. “It was our case. I was contacted by a representative of the head of state of Monterisso, you might have surely heard of Queen Amalas? Her jewelry was also stolen from a bank vault kept in New York and upon our visitation, we were able to trace it to the stolen jewelry in the shop from earlier. The hollandaise sauce seems to be a recurrent theme with him. Sort of a ‘hello I am here’ sign; a message meant for the people he was targeting. I highly doubt you talked to the store manager. He would know tons more than whatever poor boy you have brought in for questioning.”

“Once again, this is not about the case. Or one case in particular.” Thompson said. “The home invasion of CEO Henry Burke. You were not offered to consult and yet, you showed up, uninvited, made a damning accusation against the secretary for organizing it and we were left to pick up the pieces-”

“But the secretary did, in fact, organize it.”

“10th December. Rampant arsonry at the Bates Community Center’s Christmas Fair. Your intervention caused the NYPD a delay as much as two hours.”

“But you went after the wrong guys.” Nora admitted, calmly.

“Point is, Rose, you are a tripping hazard. An obstacle. You were never invited and yet, under the guise of lending a helping hand, you have caused all of us an unnecessary headache. So talk to me.”

“Talk to you? Like this?”

“Not the hand- not the hand-” Trystan protested, having to twist his wrist to give Nora room to lift her cuffed hand up to show. “Captain, there has to be a better way of dealing with this. At the Bates Community Center, we were in contact with an attorney’s client. She deserves to be updated as much as our client does. Henry Burke had contacted us earlier to have the matter dealt with in private, before his neighbors took to calling the cops.”

“I’m talking to Rose.” She paid him no attention soon after. “What do you want, huh, Nora? What do you want? A job here? A commendation of some kind? That you keep prying and prying until you get credit? Some sort of teenage angst against me? What I’m trying to say is, whatever you want, you come directly to me. You don’t mess up the work my team is deployed to do. Is that it? You want to come back? Talk. It’s your floor now.”

“Right, yeah I do have something to say. Kind of vaguely important too, actually, but first, would appreciate some coffee. You and I also know the machine is not broken either, so - would appreciate it if you made it quick.”

Two cups of coffee arrived soon enough. Trystan took long sips. It had been a while since either of them could eat or drink anything. Nora had some of hers, the midnight exhaustion melting away a little. She set her mug down, glared at Captain Thompson who waited for a response and said-

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really want anything.” she shrugged. “I don’t need a commendation, I don’t need an award. And I give you full permission to put a bullet in my head, because clearly I’d be talking out of my ass if I want to come back and work here again. Fuck you.”

“Oh real rich, verbally assaulting a-”

“It’s okay. You can take it.” Nora took another sip of her coffee. “Your ‘team’-” she annotated it with air quotes, “- spent several years calling me a ‘China girl’, insulting my intelligence, hurling whatever you thought of at me just because I worked a desk, but quickly became ‘Miss Rose’ this and that when I moved up the ranks-”

“Rose, you cannot use the past as a tool to come back and pull this crap on us again. Do you have a problem? You take it up with me, directly. You don’t give the team problems.”

“Right, as if Holbeck and Morris had made it any easier for me. Like I said, you can take it. After all, nobody’s a threat to your position, right?”

That struck a nerve. Captain Thompson restrained the urge to give Nora a piece of her mind; Nora could see that. The clench of her fists, the tight exhales of air, the darting looks at Trystan as if she’d expected him to do damage control - as if. She massaged her tired eyes, choosing her next words carefully because Nora would read her like a hawk if not. A Freudian slip here would cost her a lot. Gossip got around the precinct. Even if it seemed like a private conversation, there were ears right outside the door. Not to mention giving Mafalda Ginovesi more information she didn’t need.

“This has gone long enough.”

“You want to end our partnership then?” Trystan asked. Thompson sternly expected Nora to at least recoil at the usage of the word ‘our’ - as if an exiled Drakovian royal had anything of interest to do with a detective agency. God knows it could just merely be a hobby to pass the time, but Nora didn’t say anything. In fact, she gave him a curt nod - almost approving of his work. Thompson wanted to yank both of them by the collars to give them a thorough understanding of the dangers of viewing things in black-and-white but she knew she had a lot to lose.

“No-” she redirected the conversation back to Nora. “I want a revision on the terms of our partnership so we can both be happy. I wrote it down too.”

“Which is?.”

“You work the cases we explicitly tell you to work on.” Captain Thompson read from a sheet of paper. “You will get safety and medical benefits in the off chance any harm comes to you, the police’s resources at your disposal that can be negotiated on a case-by-case basis and should there be any overlaps between your clients and the cases we get, you get jurisdiction and the client also receives any protection, medical help, depending on the nature of the case.”

“Okay, we’re going to need to have some - sort of guarantee that you will cooperate, because you cut us dry with Sonja back there.”

“What do you mean ‘cut you dry’?”

“My partner took a blade to his stomach.. Since the stunt with Mayor Brigham’s dirty laundry getting aired live, your folks have been strangely cooperative - Mafalda’s words, not mine. Despite your reluctance in taking after the ‘tips’ we provided, you still enjoy blaming it on ‘coincidences’ and ‘the agency interrupting’ instead.”

“Two people were injured, Captain, despite our warning, despite our pleas trying to - establish some civility if not complete cooperation - I have seen you accuse Nora blindly of interference, when the investigation she was leading provided you with the tip to chase after the imitation cult and reprimand Anika Deshpande and Nick Bastion-”

“Now listen-”

“Had it not been for the consistent slew of updates, I highly doubt you would have gotten there to the undisclosed location- somehow to also arrest the two of us? Either way, bygones are bygones now.” Trystan swatted his hand. “Problem is, this case - this ‘case’ that you have taken under your wing, has led to the death of Winston Reese. My sister and I were both injured. She was taken hostage.”

“Trystan got stabbed.” Nora added.

“Granted I could afford the medical procedures, including weekly physio sessions and my sister could also afford hers--”

“We still require some kind of guarantee from you, personally. Consultancy isn’t a one-way street. What’s a good number to start with, Trys’?”

“The threshold ceiling for victims’ compensation, I’d like to think. Or you know, any good round number works.”

“Wait - you want me to pay you guys?” Captain Thompson looked horrified.

“No, jeez.” Nora tch’ed, “Sonja’s family. She has one living father. He said he wouldn’t take any money from Trystan, but perhaps he’ll listen if he was compensated legally. He’s been trying to get his application through for ages, getting rejected each time. He can’t afford an attorney to fight for him either. We’d just learned he’d spent his last savings on arranging for his daughter’s funeral. And that’s just one person.”

“We know from Eleanor’s ledger there are tens and tens of families out there. God knows how many of them have given up already even if the verdict favors them. God knows if they even are around anymore.” Trystan added.

“I know you have friends up in the Office of Victim Services. Least you can do is to not delay it further, contact all the families and put in a good word there. Not only for Mr Dormer but whomever you could reach out to.”

“We have done our part.”

“Do better. Just ‘doing your part’ will get your institution replaced.” Nora urged. “That’s your guarantee. Then once you have done that, we can work the terms to our liking. Deal’s off if you don’t follow through. Has been a problem with the NYPD for a while. ‘Following through’. You prefer latching onto the easiest answers.”

Captain Thompson looked like she’d been slapped in the face. Nevertheless, she regained her composure. “We’ll talk soon, Rose.” was all she said, without giving away any promises or comments. She stood up to summon a junior officer (as expected, she found him with his back to the walls as if he’d assumed that if he tried really hard, he could hear what his captain was saying), who had the keys.

“Real pity to see a wing of the law enforcement that so many people rely on, blatantly let the very same people down.” Trystan scoffed. “Would you mind letting us out?”

“The hand- the hand-” Nora winced in pain as Trystan hovered his hand over her shoulder.

____

“I miss it.” Trystan spoke, once they got themselves out of the stuffy precinct and walked their way back to the car. He gave his wrist a few twists and turns; adjusting his watch to a more comfortable position. The time read 1:00 AM.

“Miss -- the air?” Nora guessed.

“Actually. What are they putting in there? Mold?”

“Likely. You work there long enough and it gets okay.”

They reached Trystan’s car. He gave his key a few taps, the door clicking open. They took their respective seats, buckling in. Trystan turned the radio on, kept it to a bare simmer of a volume just to have something going in the background. It cut to some late-night news with Ricochet’s capture finally being made public and naturally, neither the Agency nor any of their individual names were mentioned. Nora didn’t mind not taking the credit anyway; it wasn't like a competition of any kind.

“Did they say those things?”

Nora quickly gathered what he meant by that. “Yeah. But it’s - been a while. Nothing really scares them. I doubt Thompson is going to help Mr Dormer out anyway.”

“I have been talking to a legal advisor to work with Mr Dormer. I hope they agree. They are one of my best recommendations, but of course, Sonja’s father - if he is anything like her - will refuse any aid out of not ‘wanting to be a bother’. Let us hope the advisor helps him far better than any of them can.”

“It sucks. Reminds me of when I was an officer there.”

“Well, now - we can do something, right? We don’t have to sit still - there is no requirement for us to be compliant.”

“Hope so.”

A pause.

“You have been a terrible influence.”

“Me? How so?” Trystan drove, taking a left turn.

“Made me cuss out my old boss and everything. I was one of these -- uh, big believers of ‘actions are louder than words’ but sometimes you need to hammer in a point, scream and give them something to stay up at night about.”

“Sounds like the best influence to me.”

Nora chuckled. “Yeah yeah, we’ll see when you don’t get us further into the pit of trouble than we are right now.”

Trystan raised his eyebrows. “Psh, what trouble? Holding somebody answerable shouldn’t warrant trouble. In fact, you could go for a more pointed swear word. Something stronger, even. I’m happy to lend you some Drakovian swears should the mood strike you. Nothing else would warrant its immediate and effective use more than pointing out incompetency.”

Nora gave him a really-we-literally-just-got-out-and-it-is-past-midnight look.

“‘Fuck you’ could work too.”

____

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This fic (and the whole subplot with Mr Dormer) was inspired by this article talking about the sheer delay it takes for victims of violent crimes to get their compensation. It's a very good read! I highly implore you check it out!

And a huge thank you to CFWC for supporting creators and even more thanks to Rose who did an absolute fantastic, gobsmacking, teeth-shattering BEAUTIFUL JOB aaah I cannot stop staring at it! They're so cool, they're disaster bisexuals, they solve crime, they're hopeless and pathetic at the same time and incredible and I JUST CANNOT OKAY, TOO MUCH EMOTIONS.

I NEED to show you this version!

WHITE COATED TRYSTAN. HOLY SHIT. THEY. COMPLEMENT EACH OTHER. HOLY. FUCK.

I love both these variations, both the dark-jacketed one and this! I'd absolutely love to see Trystan in this beige or this tartan esque coat because they deserve to just serve looks, eat everything and leave no crumbs.

And ofc this is the sketch version and ugh, Rose did such a good job and I've stared at this thing for five hours now. Like the days leading up to the commission and the updates were NUTS! I had like exams going on and Rose's updates just kept me going,, just massive oceans' worth of dopamine here.

AND JUST. NORA. TRYSTAN. SCREAM. SCREAM.

I'm just so so grateful for this, words cannot describe the euphoria I feel right this second because it's just, when you see your characters on paper or portrait or wherever and you're like "holy frick this is real this is a real thing I'm doing" it just gives me so much joy. I'm so grateful for Rose once again, who put up with all of my messy, excited screaming! Thank you so so much!

Tagging:

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam

Crimes: @cassie-thorne @peonierose @ao719 @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @fuckitweball0000

Also tagging @choicesbookclub because the brainrot is absolutely real

#trystan x nora #crimes of passion fics #crimes of passion #w:inlocusmads

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gamerwoo · 1 year

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Soonyoung: Imperfect (Part Seven)

Characters: Soonyoung x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff with some minor angst in there, guns, mentions of sex but nothing explicitly happens, stealing

Word count: 2,000

Summary: Soonyoung has always been desperate to find his mate, often going out into town at night to fill the void of imprinting that he craves so much. Then suddenly, you (quite literally) appear in front of him. He’d always dreamed and fantasized about what having his mate would be like, but the reality is nothing like he expected.

a/n: things in bold are in english and whenever soonyoung says reader’s name it’s meant to be reader’s surname

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, please fill out this form!!!

Previous | Next | Imperfect Masterlist

The rules were simple, except they were very difficult for both you and Soonyoung. It was meant to test you, which you knew was good for you. Both of you had learned a decent amount, and now it was time to see what you retained -- if anything -- by going to the market for a 'test’.

Rule one: you can’t get an item off the shopping list unless you can name that item in the other language.

Rule two: you can’t help each other to cheat.

Rule three: Soonyoung cannot use his power against Kyung or Hansol to get what he wants.

“What’s this?” Hansol asked you as he held up a potato.

You stared at the vegetable like you were trying to make it move with your mind, “Uh... p-po...tato...?”

Soonyoung, however, pointed straight at it and excitedly exclaimed, “Tomato!”

Kyung shrugged with a, “Close enough,” and tossed a few into the bag hanging off her arm.

As the four of you walked through the market, Hansol asked, “What else do we need?”

“Next on the list is...” Kyung looked down at the paper before saying, “meat.”

Hansol then looked at you over his shoulder with a smirk, and your eyes widened.

“Can you ask for meat in Korean?” he wondered.

Your eyes looked up, as if you could roll them back to search for the answer in your brain, “Uh... Can I...h-have... Uh...pork belly?”

Despite your answer, he continued to look at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

“Please!” you quickly interjected.

Hansol nodded with a chuckle, “Good job. But no, we’re getting something else.”

Soonyoung frowned, “No pork belly?”

Your small group paused. You were near the outskirts of the market, but there seemed to be a series of canvas tarps with tables set up underneath them, almost like their own min-market. However, there were a bunch of large men wandering around the border, and they seemed to be eyeing the public who got too close.

“We need to go talk to the butcher,” Kyung explained. “Stay put, got it?”

As she said the last part, she looked intently between both you and Soonyoung.

“Talk to who?” you asked.

She smiled, “See, you’re picking things up quickly.”

And then her and Hansol left.

“That didn’t answer my question...” you mumbled.

“Butcher,” Soonyoung told you.

You looked back at him quizzically, unsure why he knew that word, but you didn’t say anything about it. Instead, you looked back to the mini-market that Hansol and Kyung had walked toward, getting stopped by one of the men on patrol.

“Is...that a...market?” you asked slowly.

“It’s called a black market,” he explained.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, and he quickly tried to think of a way to simplify what ‘black market’ meant.

“It’s a market, but...” he paused to think again of the right word. “It’s bad. Illegal?”

Now it made sense. Of course the pack would get their meat from the black market. It was probably a hell of a lot cheaper, and they could probably trade things for it instead of stealing or using money.

“We could hunt for meat, but we might end up leading werewolf hunters to us,” Soonyoung explained.

That also made sense. If they found a deer carcass torn to shreds, they’d obviously get suspicious. And it wasn’t like they could bring the thing home and then bury it in the backyard or something.

The two of you waited for a while, silently observing the black market from the outside. But then you realized you had to pee, and you started to get antsy.

“I’m gonna...find...the bathroom,” you told him.

He chuckled, but nodded.

After you left, Soonyoung continued to stand in the same spot. He couldn’t see Hansol or Kyung anymore, so he just watched the sketchy-looking venders under the tarps. It was pretty boring, though, so he eventually wandered over to a booth that was near the black market. It seemed to sell fake-looking jewelry for incredibly expensive prices, but he just needed something else to occupy his time and mind.

As he was browsing the jewelry that was laid out, he felt a tap on his shoulder as a male voice asked, “Excuse me?”

Soonyoung turned around and saw a...vaguely familiar face. He couldn’t quite place where he saw it though.

That is, until he saw the short girl standing timidly behind him, looking up at Soonyoung wide-eyed. Then the memories came flooding back. Going home with that girl -- he couldn’t even remember her name, honestly -- and being interrupted in the middle of their business by her boyfriend barging in, looking like steam was going to come out of his ears at any moment.

All Soonyoung could manage to say was, “Shit...”

The guy grabbed Soonyoung by the collar, turned him around, and threw him to the ground.

“So,” Soonyoung coughed as dirt kicked up around him, “I’ll take it you’re still upset.”

Soonyoung watched as the boyfriend pulled out a gun from a holster on his pants. His brown eyes widened as he stared into the short barrel of the gun.

“Okay...” Soonyoung began slowly, raising his hands as he slowly got to his feet, the gun following his every move, “let’s not do anything too rash. I get you’re mad, but--”

“You almost ruined my family!” the man shouted.

That’s when Soonyoung spotted the sparkle on the girl’s left ring finger.

Husband. He’s her husband.

“I swore to kill you then, and you got away,” he continued. “We must’ve crossed paths again for a reason, then.”

Soonyoung had to weigh his options quickly. On one hand, he could take this guy. He could shift and scare him shitless, but he’d give himself away. He could use his power, but that would also give him away. But it was give himself away or be shot.

On the other hand, he could handle a regular bullet, right? Unless it went straight between his eyes and killed him instantly, he’d probably survive. But being shot really didn’t sound like fun.

So...what was he supposed to do?

With a gasp, Soonyoung felt himself get yanked to the side before tumbling to the ground. A shot rang out, and Soonyoung squeezed his eyes shut, but all he felt was his back hit the ground and a weight on his stomach.

“Troublemaker,” he heard your voice say, and his eyes shot open to see you straddling him, both hands on his chest. “Right?”

He breathed out a, “Yeah,” as he tried to collect his thoughts and gather what the fuck had just happened.

“Where the hell did you go?!” the man shouted angrily, aiming his gun every which way.

Soonyoung had forgotten about your power, and now he felt like he could let out a sigh of relief knowing the man couldn’t see either of you, so you wouldn’t be in trouble, either.

“Come with me,” you instructed as you took one of his hands, keeping a firm grip to keep him invisible. “Don’t let go.”

You got up and helped him up before the two of you were taking off through the market, far away from the trouble Soonyoung got himself mixed up in. You noticed that seemed to be a habit of his, so maybe you’d have another task on your hands on top of learning how to communicate with your mate.

You had no idea where you were going, you were just running and giggling to yourselves as you weaved between bodies that couldn’t see you if you happened to graze or bump them. And Soonyoung was just following, loving to see this other side of you.

But you were suddenly tugged to a stop, being pulled over to a booth that had bread and cheese laid out, as well as some cured meats. You watched as Soonyoung kept his eyes trained on the vendor and the few people around as he wrapped a hand around a loaf of bread and slowly moved it to the end of the table before stuffing it into the canvas bag slung across your body.

“What’re you doing?” you asked him.

“We can’t...uh...pay for food,” he explained. Then he looked at you with a mischievous smirk. “So... Your power...help us...take.”

“Ohhh,” you nodded slowly, understanding what he was getting at.

Jiung never taught you to steal. He always wanted to get things fair and square, so you never thought to use your power to steal anything.

...But you couldn’t say it was a bad idea.

“Are you kidding me?!” Kyung demanded when she entered the house.

“Uh-oh,” Junhui snickered from where him, you and Soonyoung, and other members of Soonyoung’s pack were gathered in the kitchen.

An angry-looking Kyung stormed into the kitchen, standing in the doorway as her eyes found you and Soonyoung sitting in kitchen chairs with Seungcheol and Jihoon standing in front of the two of you. Both of you looked like children being scolded by their parents, while the rest of your siblings looked on in amusement.

“We told you to stay put!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out. “Then we hear gunshots, and you two are gone?! Christ, _____, I thought you died!”

“We knew you didn’t die,” Hansol sighed, putting a calming hand on his mate’s shoulder.

“Can you let the rest of us in on what’s happening?” Jihoon asked in an annoyed tone.

Kyung glared at him, “Don’t get an attitude with me.”

“Kyung and I went to get meat, and we left Soonyoung and _____ alone,” Hansol explained. “We heard a gunshot, so went to check on them, and they were both gone.”

“Gunshots?!” Seungcheol gasped, turning back to look down at you and Soonyoung with wide eyes.

“This is getting good,” Mingyu whispered to Seokmin.

Soonyoung frowned up at him, “Shut it.”

“Care to explain?” Jihoon questioned, looking straight at the second oldest alpha.

Soonyoung looked offended, demanding, “Why’re you only asking me?!”

“I highly doubt _____ would get into the kind of trouble where someone shoots at her.”

“Fair...” he muttered, and then shifted in his seat with a sigh. “Look, I ran into...this...girl, and her...husband--”

“Husband?!” Seungkwan repeated.

“Shh!” Jooyeon hissed. “It’s getting good.

Soonyoung rolled his eyes as he continued, “Her husband seemed to remember me and had some...unresolved emotions toward me.”

Seungcheol scoffed, “Rightfully so...”

“But _____ showed up before he could do anything, and we got away,” he concluded. “Nobody got hurt, and nobody was outed; I promise.”

The two alphas looked at you expectantly, and you guessed they wanted to know if Soonyoung was telling the truth. Honestly, you only understood a portion of what was said, but you figured you were better off saving yourself the trouble -- well, more of it -- and nodded eagerly.

Seungcheol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “And did the stealing come before or after this?”

“Stealing?” Kyung interjected.

“They brought home a feast,” Junhui laughed.

Maybe you and Soonyoung had gone a little overboard with your power, but you figured it was for a good cause. Soonyoung had a lot of mouths to feed, and you wanted to be helpful. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone got hurt.

Though, Jihoon did remind you that people definitely lost out on a lot of money, which made you feel guilty.

Kyung let out a deep sigh as she looked at the ground. Then she looked back up at you, her stare a mix of disappointment, but also something you couldn’t quite place. Almost like she couldn’t believe what you’d done.

Hansol, however, was very amused.

“Are you kidding me, _____?” your sister asked. “You can hardly speak to him, but he’s already being a bad influence on you!”

Soonyoung mostly understood what she said, and he giggled quietly to himself, “Troublemakers.”

You looked at him as smile formed on your face from his giggle, before looking back at Kyung with a shrug, “What can I say? He’s growing on me.”

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allycat75 · 4 months

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A bit more about your misogyny, Boston Dumb Fuck. Yes, you do have some.

I have discussed previously how the jump scares and V-day videos not only cost you your feminist card, but all got you more than a few upgrades to your misogynist membership. Upgrades were also earned when you smugly minimized or outright dismissed any need to have fear or anxiety because there is never a real threat, when, for women, there is a clear and present danger lurking behind almost every corner, mostly from your sex. I will smugly respond in kind by saying check your goddamn privlege, have a little empathy and tell your fellow knuckle-crawling males to keep it in their pants until they are soberly invited to present it, good sir.

But let's now discuss using your (mostly female) fandom to spread your lies and then making them look crazy and/or stupid for pointing out their obvious flaws. This is not a new tactic- women have been suppressed and subjugated for centuries by manipulating science and the narrative of what is "normal". It was not uncommon for a man who was simply bored with his wife to have her committed to an asylum, often for the rest of her life, with some made up psychosis, like "hysteria".

On this blog, I have discussed the "Martha Mitchell Effect", occuring when a medical professional labels a patient's completely accurate perception of real events as delusional, resulting in misdiagnosis. Its name is derived from the wife of John Mitchel, US Attorney General in the Nixon administration. When Martha alleged that White House officials were engaged in illegal activities, her claims were attributed to mental illness but ultimately the facts of the Watergate scandal vindicated her. Not, however, before much anguish and suffering at the hands of people she trusted and loved.

And this is only the evidence I see with my own eyes. There are plenty of stories of how awful you are to unsuspecting one night stands and anyone who might want to tarnish your Golden Boy, ah shucks I'm really just ackward and shy reputation, although I would say you have imploded that one just fine on your own. If there is a grain of truth to any of these rumors, please examine them thoroughly and get the help you need or Dodger and your hand will truly become your only life companions.

Here are additional articles I hope you read and ruminate on as you endeavor to become a fully functioning human being who contibutes to the success of the greater good and whose activism isn't simply performative, rather than bring down society for the benefit of a select few and earning more meaningless upgrades to your misogynist membership:

#you are no feminist #liars suck!#i don't like hypocrites #ai in human form #do better #i hate manipulation #coward #who are you #What do you want for your legacy?#not the good guy #is your mom still proud?

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pedritapascal · 7 months

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A good Agent, or a Good Fucker... to me

Chapter Two - Cutting the loose ends

Pedro Pascal's character - Dave York - [DY] The Protector 2 / Equalizer 2

Dave York x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

WARNINGS: {+18} Sex Language; SA; Fingers; Tongue; Nudity; Explicit Details; Oral Sex

A good Agent, or a Good Fucker... to me

It had been a few days since that ill-fated night when we lost Arjona, and even though we insisted on interrogating his security guard for hours on end, he wouldn't give us anything at all. Luckily, we managed to get him arrested for illegal possession of weapons, which would give us more time to get to Arjona.

Dave was as nervous as ever, I think the case was getting narrower than it should have been, and even so, I felt that on some days he acted better, acted like a human being in fact, taking me to a café every now and then when we had to stay up all night reading and re-reading piles of files and transcribed statements to catch something that might have slipped through.

I also noticed that Dave no longer answered his phone when Carol called, always leaving it on vibrate until it went to voicemail.

And on his finger, only the mark of his wedding ring...

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Two more weeks went by, questioning the security guard who ended up handing over three others who worked with Arjona...

But something still didn't add up, I already had the investigation picture etched in my mind, and I knew I had missed something, but what?

Dave had been quieter these last few days, always looking tired or worried, sometimes I felt sorry for him, I wanted to ask him what was going on... then I'd remember that I didn't care, and that he was an asshole, and the curiosity would wear off.

We didn't even talk about the kiss anymore, it was as if it had never existed, and so be it.

One more day in the office, locked in with Dave York snorting and nothing, that's when I decided to go through the folder from the interrogation of Arjona's security guard.

“ I FIND IT “ - I got up from my desk with a transcribed statement from Arjona's security guard and took it to Dave - “I knew he'd talked about this”

“ Where is it? ”

I threw the folder on his desk, pointed to the line already marked in yellow on the highlighter, sat down on the edge and read it to him while my finger followed the line.

“ Arjona was at a business meeting on February 9th in Seattle ”

“ Ta and what about it? ”

“ Don't you see? “ Going towards the investigation board - “On February 9, 4 women from Seattle disappeared, all with similar descriptions, we just need to link them to Arjona. Now here, in Ohio, in New York, all the dates match the fucking disappearance of women of their standard. This can't be a coincidence…”

“ Fuck “ - Dave banged on the table - “ We did it “

“ I did it, Dave…”

“ I thought we were a team” - Dave laughed - “ I'll give you credit this time Rookie, come on I'll get the warrant for Arjona tomorrow” - grabbing his suit

I preferred to ignore it and gather my things to leave too, it was already past two in the morning and the next day we'd have to be back at the office by 7.

Passing through the corridor, Agent Brown called Dave for a drink to round off the evening...

“ Come on Dave, you've only been working since you got back”

“ I can't make it today, I've got an unavoidable appointment…”

I pretended not to be listening, but WTF Dave have to do at two o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday? Not that I was interested, but... I'm a detective, right... and I'm very curious...

We got into the elevator and again I felt that tension...

“ Don't you want to know why I'm not drinking tonight?”

Sometimes I thought he could read my mind, but sometimes I was thankful that he couldn't, because every now and then I'd have thoughts that made me feel ashamed of myself...

“ Your private life doesn't interest me...agent”

Dave laughed, waving the car key around

“But since you want to tell me, go ahead, I seem to be your only friend…”

Dave shook a bunch of keys in his hands

“ I'm moving out”

Why was I happy with the news? I don't know, but I stopped myself.

“ Wow, good for you... so it's really over?”

“ Yes, it was already over, right? I was just putting off the inevitable? - Dave took a deep breath - Today I'll finish the last boxes…”

The elevator door opened in the garage

“ Good luck in your new life” - I said, heading towards my car, and Dave towards his.

“ And Rookie” - Dave called out to me, standing in front of his car - “Congratulations on today, you know, about the deposition…”

I just smiled and got in my car to go home.

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At seven in the morning we were already outside Lieutenant Jones' office with all the evidence needed for an arrest warrant for Arjona. It would take almost all day for everything to be approved, we couldn't go wrong, now it wasn't an ambush, we were really going to arrest him for having links to human trafficking.

We spent the day nervously waiting for the warrant to come through, and at times I struck up a conversation with Dave, trying to take my mind off the day...

“ Did you manage to finish your move yesterday?”

“ Yes, I didn't even sleep really, and finishing moving in the early hours of the morning was easy, you know... the girls”

“ Yes yes, did they react well to the divorce?”

“ I thought they'd take it worse, but not really... I just…” - Dave stopped talking, I could feel his eyes getting distant... - “I just didn't belong in that house anymore…”

I did want to ask him what had happened, but I felt so distant when I remembered what he had been through that I decided not to go into it.

“ It'll work out” - I whispered

“ Yes, it will” - Dave, with his super hearing, replied, heading for the door because there had been a knock.

“THE MANDATE, let's go.”

We had already bribed Arjona's security guard for his real address, because the one in the system was in an abandoned shed, and we offered to reduce the sentence for the information, but of course we wouldn't comply…

We were already in the car, it was close to eight in the evening when we rang the doorbell of Arjona's house... a huge fucking house, which probably cost millions…

“Yeah, trafficking women really pays” - Dave snorted, putting his hands on his hips

“ Man, it's amazing how you don't say a sentence right in life”...rolling his eyes

With the warrant and dozens of police officers surrounding the house, Arjona had little to do but give himself up, and he left in handcuffs, as he should have done.

That was it, that moment I wanted to live, that's why I came to the CIA.

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After leaving Arjona mouldering in the interrogation chair, saying that we'd be right back, but no, not until the next day, Dave asked me if I didn't want to celebrate by having a drink in the bar around the corner, where all the agents went, I'd been there twice before, nothing much, lots of people in suits in the same place, looking like that, nobody could tell if we were bankers, agents or lawyers...

But why not, I was ecstatic.

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We were on our third drink toasting Arjona's arrest, with our blazers off, him with his tie loosened, me with two buttons of my dress shirt open, some officers passing by and congratulating us on the arrest.

“ Wow, I haven't felt like this in a while” - Dave laughed as he took the last sip of his drink

“Like what? Like I've done something right in life, eh?”

“ Not dumb, free, and with a sense of accomplishment.”

“ That's why I joined the CIA, Dave, that's why I wanted to say no, but I'm proud of myself... of us, we did well!”

I knocked over his empty glass and finished my drink, ordering two more. I was already allowing myself to laugh for nothing, I wasn't drunk, far from it... but the joy of alcohol makes you, you know... connected.

“ You were a great Rookie, even the highlight of the mission for me was that day on watch…”

“ Wow, that day was terrible” - I smoothed my hair back - “We lost the guy”

“ And you kissed me” - Dave said as he picked up the drinks that the bartender had placed on the counter.

“ Huh? No sir, you kissed me, don't give me that…”

“Okay, I'll accept the blame because there wasn't much to do there”

“Actually, there was plenty to do there, Dave…”

“ Really?” - Dave bit the corner of his mouth

“No” - wide-eyed - “not the way you're thinking” - laughing

“Since I'm on my fourth drink, I'll allow myself a confession.”

“ Wow, confessions from Dave York, interesting”

“It's been over a year since I... you know…”

“I don't know, tell me…”

“I don't…” - Dave took a deep breath - “You know I was getting divorced, right, working on the case…” - Dave scratched his forehead, a little embarrassed...

“ I get it, Dave, so... for me it's been six months…”

“ Impossible” - Dave looked astonished - “In just the time I've been with you here, 4 agents have already tried to win you over…”

“I was focused, I wanted to join the CIA…”

A silence and that tension again, I decided to go to the bathroom, I needed to at least wet the back of my neck to see if it was really fire or the drink coming up... in the bathroom I looked at myself in the mirror while wetting my hands and rubbing the back of my neck with the cold water... what was I doing?

Acting like a teenager, and especially with my work partner? But why had they put me with such a hot agent?

I ran a wet hand over my face and felt my cheeks burn as I remembered Dave sitting on the chair in those black dress pants that showed off his whole body...

Focus... I took a deep breath

As I left the bathroom to return to the bar, I bumped into Dave

“Hi... I was just coming back”

“Go on, I'll be right back”

The problem was that the space was too small for two people to pass at the same time, I tried to go when he tried to come and we were kind of close there, not close, but very close, I didn't feel anything but Dave's hands pulling me by the waist and the other on the back of my neck

“Fuck” - Dave whispered

Dave carried me backwards into the bathroom while he glued his mouth to mine, my arms still unresponsive, still down, I heard him kick the door shut with his foot and all I could say was

“Lock it…”

As Dave released me to lock the door, he stopped and asked

“Are you sure, Rookie?”

“Don't ask Dave…”

Dave pulled me to him by the hand, hugging me, his arms wrapped around my body and my mouth stuck to his, I felt one of his hands under my hair, guiding my head and the other hand going down to my ass and squeezing me against him, he gasped into my mouth and I took the opportunity to wrap my arms around his neck, I could feel his erection growing more and more as he pulled me and rubbed me against him.

His tongue played with mine and I felt him sucking me, playing with my tongue as I had done with him in that kiss in the car...

I took the hand he had on my ass and moved it up to the side of my chest. Dave moaned softly as I squeezed my left breast with his hand, teaching him exactly how I liked it done, biting his lower lip lightly as he smiled.

As our hands squeezed my left breast, I moaned softly and gasped into Dave's mouth...

He turned me around, reversing the positions we were in, his mouth leaving mine while he moved down to my neck, I moaned softly as I dug my nails into his back, Dave returned to my mouth, turned me around, my body against the door, and my face too, I felt him rubbing his erection against my ass, I felt his breath in my ear...

“I've been wanting to tell you for weeks," he said, brushing my hair away from my neck, "that your ass is incredible and that I even forget what I have to do when I see you standing there, looking at the picture," nibbling on my ear.

“And what stopped you from saying it?” I whispered as I pulled him tighter around my waist.

Dave rubbed his cock against my ass a few times and moaned low in my ear, he turned me around, hunting for my mouth, my right hand went down to his pants, while he opened the buttons of my shirt, my hands trembled trying to open his belt, then his pants, when I felt I could get my hand inside, I just slipped it in slowly, grabbing his cock, which I was feeling, thick, barely fitting in my closed hand, Dave moaned a little louder when he felt my touch. He rested his forehead on mine, his eyes closed... one arm resting on the door...

“I think... I have another confession... to make” - He moaned as I stroked his cock, slowly, up and down, still inside his briefs

“Another Dave York confession?” - Kissing his neck, running my tongue down to his ear and back...

“I... I…” - Dave moaned as I sped up my movements - “On the day...aaaarf”

“Yes, tell me” - holding my body to his so that my groin would help put pressure on my hand while I played with him.

“I... got home, and I couldn't resist... “- Dave gasped - “I had to... you know”

“You know what? You came thinking about me, didn't you?”

“Yes” - Dave put his mouth on mine and moaned

“And it was nice for you?”

“It was, but let's just say” - Dave pulled in a breath and threw his head back - “Let's just say that your hand is much better…” - holding me by the chin and moaning into my mouth...

“It's not just my hand that's good, Dave” - he finished unzipping his pants, pulling down his underpants a little

“No? You're not going to…”

When I pulled Dave's underpants down further, I felt his cock pop upwards, hitting his belly on top of his shirt, the red head completely wet with pre-cum, I spread it more with my thumb while Dave bit his own lips

“I think I'm the one who has a confession to make now…” I turned Dave around, leaning him against the door - “Ever since the day I felt your erection in that fight of ours, I've wanted to know what you tasted like…”

Dave just smiled as I bent down, I felt one of his hands gathering my hair, still holding his cock, I ran the tip of my tongue over the head, circled it again with my tongue now taking all of it, Dave moaned, I started to put it in my mouth carefully, each time I took it out of my mouth and back in, I swallowed a few more centimeters until I reached where my hand was, holding the base of his penis.

“Take your hand off Rookie, I want to see how far you can take it”

I just lowered my hands to his thighs and smiled, I've always loved a challenge, Dave pulled me by the hair I was holding, and took my head back, then shoved it back into my mouth, I felt the head hit the back of my throat, my eyes watered, Dave held me there for a few seconds while I moaned almost in supplication...

He pulled out of me again, as his cock came out of my mouth, I took the opportunity to play with my tongue, I could feel Dave's legs shaking with arousal as he moaned my name. For the first time... he was saying my name, he was moaning my name…

I let go of his hand, I didn't need him to guide me, I knew what I was doing, while I was making his cock disappear into my mouth, I heard Dave asking me to stop, because he couldn't take it... I kept going, I wanted to see that man cumming and calling my name, but Dave grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me off him, squeezing hard and lifting me up. Looking into my eyes.

“I told you to stop” - Dave said harshly through his teeth... does that mean he liked being obeyed? I'd love to play this game

Dave, still leaning against the door, turned me around and pressed me to his body while one of his hands opened the button of my pants. Dave quickly slid down my pants, reaching my panties. I threw my head back against his chest and spread my legs a little wider. Dave barely slipped one of his fingers into my pussy and moaned in my ear.

“Wow, you're so wet, it's delicious." Slipping another of his thick fingers inside me, reaching my clit now and making small circles, right where my vibrator touched when I thought of him, I moaned his name quietly.

“Dave…”

“Princess, there's something vibrating in you and it's not me”

“My phone... Don't you dare stop…”

I reached for my phone in my back pocket, five missed calls, how the hell did I not feel that?

"Okay” - trying to keep my breathing normal, while Dave circled my clit and then moved his finger down and back up to my clit, while kissing my neck - HOW IS HE GOING TO PAY THE BAIL??” - I slapped Dave's hand to get him to stop and take his hand away... - “We're coming back..."

“FUCK!!!” - I exclaimed as I zipped up my pants - “Arjona is asking for the right to bail and that it doesn't matter how much it is, he'll pay it, come on…”

“Really?” Dave used to put his hands on his waist when he got nervous...

“YEP” - closing the buttons of my blouse, I saw Dave gasp with disappointment as he got ready to leave...

Before opening the door, Dave looked at me for a few seconds, pulled me to him, causing me to let out a low squeal, then pressed his mouth to mine in a kiss while my hands rested on his chest...

“Now we can go, princess…”

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Chapter Three - You Can't Handle The Truth

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