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ghostehe · 5 months

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in this life and all the others !!!

alternatively — ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ john price prepared his daughter for everything and that included him being gone. what he didn't prepare himself for was her being gone.

simon riley x fem!price!reader — 𖦹₊˚⊹☁️

warnings — ⋆｡°✩ language. kinda ooc!simon but idgaf. reader may have some specific traits, sorry for self projection, it WILL happen again. kidnapping, allusion to death, blood, wounds, the usual yeeyay with their line of work. john is going through it. reader and ghost are already together.

author's note — ⋆｡°✩ hiii :) my first time ever writing for this fandom and i'm reallllly excited!! i hope you like this <3 fair warning, the reader's sense of style, hair length description, possible field of work may be specified so if that's not to your preference, i'm really sorry for it :( if you would like me to do something like this with some specific points and all, you can just ask me!! i'm sure i'll be able to work with that!! thank you so much for reading, i already love each and every one of you <3

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

it felt wrong to admit it now but when your mother first dropped you at your father's house, he didn't — well, he didn't exactly want you.

it wasn't as if he didn't love you, he did — you were his daughter. but his life had enough chaos to last him a lifetime and he was just fine with staying in touch with you through screens and only seeing you alternately on christmas, that too if the circumstances allowed him too

sure, he wouldn't be there at your parent teacher conferences or have you show him your report cards. he wouldn't get to see you perform extraordinarily in your extracurriculars or have you run towards him with whatever prize or trophy you'd get. he wouldn't always be there at your birthdays and sometimes, he might even forget to mail you a present. he might not get to see you grow up and he might only be just your father and never your dad.

he was fine with that.

so, what would it matter if his heart broke a little when his ex-wife, your mother, called him the night after they had signed the divorce papers and asked him to talk to you because you wouldn't stop asking for your dad? why would he be second guessing himself after hearing your small voice breaking in between as you asked him to come back? why did he get the sudden urge to drive to your mum's house and pick you up and apologize and let you choose the colour of the walls of your room in his house — your home?

but sure, he was fine.

he assured you that he was just a call away, told you to be good for your mom, eat your veggies, be nice and kind and then bid you goodbye. he tried hard not to pay attention to your cries as your mum took the phone from you and apologized to him, explaining that you just missed him.

'she just misses you, john,' and he was ready to break down then and there. you needed him, your dad, and he was refusing to be there. refusing to let that shadow of his work even fall on your shadow for a second. refusing to let you be a soft spot for him because that was the most dangerous thing a person in his line of work could ever have.

'she'll get over it soon, forget her old man and all,' he tried to laugh it off but his voice broke and before your mum could say anything, he hung up.

the next time he saw you, you were at his door, standing with your luggage behind you and your mother. he noticed that her own luggage was still in the cab and it didn't take long for him to figure out what was coming. he had tried to explain himself, explain why exactly he wasn't cut out for this and that he was very happy with seeing you every other weekend. all while you stood near the staircase and stayed quiet.

your mum left and left you behind with a father who didn't even remember his daughter's favourite colour.

he remembered the look on your face and the way you tried to make yourself as small as possible, taking the least amount of space you could. you had just turned ten, your birthday being one of many that john would eventually come to miss and he looked at you like you were still that same one year old baby who pulled herself up and walked to her dad.

he grabbed your luggage and one of your hands and walked you up the stairs and into one of the rooms down the hall. it was mostly empty, a twin size bed and a dresser drawer spread out with a wardrobe in the corner but he figured you'd be fine.

if he saw you pause at the walls being your maybe-favourite colour, he didn't say anything.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

"what do you mean?"

"john — "

"stop, just — stop," john took a deep breath, exhaling shakily as he broke eye contact with laswell and looked away. his hands ever so slightly shaking came up to fix his signature hat as he pointedly ignored ghost's gaze piercing him from where he was listening to everything at the back of his office. "what do you mean?"

"we're trying to locate — "

"that's my fucking daughter and you swore that this wouldn't ever catch up to her!" john snapped, his voice firm and sharp as he desperately tried to hide the tremor in his words. "you — you guaranteed that my line of work would never catch up to her and that she'd be safe and she'd be fine and now she is — "

he cut himself off with as soon as his voice cracked, looking away as he shook his head, shaking the concerned and empathetic eyes of kate and the blank stare of his lieutenant. deep down, he knew that she was doing everything she could to locate you — the whole base was. with soap leaving no stone unturned as he investigated the residence, gaz checking the cameras installed out the place and the street to find a trace of anything, kate herself flying down to the base to do everything she was capable of doing and ghost doing... something, everyone was on it.

but still, you were his daughter.

his daughter. the one who always waited up for him ever since you learned that your dad would be away for a while but he'd come back. the one who called him 'old man' but cried and got upset whenever he tried to have the 'when i'm gone' conversation with you. the one who made cards for every single occasion, cards he still cherished with his everything. you were his everything and you were nowhere to be found.

in a way he blamed himself, he always did. whether it'd be you catching a fever or not having all of your project supplies, he'd always blame himself. he'd continue to do it until someone — more often than not, kate — came by and knocked some sense into his head, told him that one shortcoming doesn't make him a bad dad.

his eyes glanced around the room, anything to prevent him from looking into the empathetic gaze of kate because it felt like she had already accepted that you were gone. you were not, you were just taken — taken from him and he needed to get you back.

he locked eyes with simon and took in his appearance for the first time since he came into the room. truth be told, nobody really saw him coming in, nobody even called for him to be in here. he just showed up and john knew that it would be futile to get him to go out — not that he wanted him to go. it was weirdly comforting, having simon in the same room as they discussed what to do next. maybe it was because they both had the same goal in their mind, get you back or maybe john had just grown familiar with his presence after countless mornings of him descending down the stairs to see him and you at the breakfast bar. whatever it was, john was grateful simon stuck around.

looking at him, everything was the same, not one thing out of place but john knew different, he knew better. he could see the small specks of blood decorating his infamous skull mask and the empty holster attached to his thigh. he could barely make out the dark spots on his glove but if he strained his eyes enough, he'd find them.

he wasn't looking at simon, he was looking at ghost.

john knew that ghost hadn't expressed one percent of what he actually wanted to express. he knew as soon as he stormed out of the room when laswell broke the news to the team and returned a couple hours later, gloves discarded somewhere and his knuckles stained with blood. he kept his mouth shut, mind running haywire as he tried to plan out anything, anything to get even a sliver of news about your whereabouts.

he could feel kate stare at him with calculating eyes and something akin to guilt swimming in them. he could feel simon stare at his form as he paced around the room, hands fidgeting as he fought the urge to call soap and gaz every minute.

kate's gaze didn't bother him, simon's did because it mirrored his hopelessness.

he was so lost in his own guilt and desperation and defeat that he didn't hear the footsteps thundering down the hallway, not until they were right in front of them and the door slammed open. it was only then he looked to see soap panting, a small piece of paper in his hands and he pointed to it back and forth and for a moment, john could feel the sickening sense of hope swell in his chest.

gaz was right behind soap, seemingly in a better position to speak than the latter and plucked the piece of paper from his teammate's hands and held it out for john to see.

"what — "

"we managed to trace the owner of the car that was seen going around your block more than eighteen times," gaz informed, eyes flickering to ghost who had now made his way towards their small group and back to his captain in front of him. "the car was brought under a very... creative way, three shell companies and we traced each one of them back to a single corporation."

"they have these warehouses, right outside of the town," soap continued, taking notice of the desperation in his captain's eyes and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "it's a very good chance she's there."

"how sure are you?" it was the first time ghost opened his mouth ever since he joined john and kate. his voice gave away nothing and to anyone, it must have sounded like he was just talking about any other mission but john knew that it took everything for him to keep his voice steady and strong.

"damn sure, lt."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

john remembered the first time he had the 'when i'm gone' talk with you.

you were eleven, and it killed him inside when he realised that he would have to make you understand the risks in his line of work.

he remembered the way you threw him the dirtiest look you could muster, the most withered glare set on your face as soon as he said the words and he had to stop and blink in surprise because goddamn, his daughter was scary.

he remembered the way you shook your head at his every 'understand?' the way you tried to run off to your room and you would've, if not for his arms shooting out to catch you before you could bolt. the way you told him to be quiet as politely as you could when he continued, denial in your eyes at the prospect of your dad going away and not coming back.

he remembered his heart cracking in two when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and he almost stopped himself, cursing himself in his mind because you shouldn't have to sit here and listen to him telling you what to do in case his dog tags came back and he didn't.

you managed to get yourself free from his hold and rush upstairs to your room and he didn't have it in himself to call you back down and you both left it at that.

the second time he tried to have the talk with you was when you turned eighteen and he got shot on a mission.

the way you looked at him when he woke up in the hospital still haunted him on nights when he couldn't sleep and he knew that he was basically torturing you with this. going away and not providing any guarantee that he would come back but he couldn't.

he could leave tomorrow and say that he'd be back in time for christmas and there would still be a chance that he'd end up coming back home in a casket.

he couldn't give you the security of his arrival but he could prepare you in case anything ever happened and he did. he set apart bank accounts for you, under a different name and a different address. he brought two different apartments in the city, under a different name and a different address. he brought a small house and trusted that you would make it a home, under a different name and a different address. he made sure that you would be okay if he left, after he left and he knew he did a damn good job with it.

you didn't do the same.

he prepared you on how to live if he went away before it was time but he never prepared himself for if, god forbid, you were gone. he never had to because what kind of father would want to come to terms with the knowledge that their kid could leave before them?

"hey — hey, honey," he brushed the hair out of your face, his facade slowly crumbling away with his fingers came back stained with blood — your blood. his gun lays discarded next to him and he almost wants to go back and bullet a few more bullets in those bastards' heads for your condition. "you still with me?"

"dad..." you whispered, eyes fluttering close with fatigue and blood loss as your head rested against the wall. he could see the way you forced your eyelids to stay open, your grip on his hand weak and so delicate that he wanted to scream.

"i'm here, i'm here," he murmured, stroking your cheek to keep you awake while you both waited for the clear signal from the rest. his hands were shaking and he was sure that his heartbeat could be heard by everyone else on the comms but even then, he had to be strong. "i'm here, my sweet girl."

"you know," you forced these words out, eyes unfocused and dazy as you made an attempt to smile at his terror stricken face, "now's my turn to do the 'when i'm gone' talk. you already had two chances."

"NO! no — no, no," he shook his head, eyes blurring ever so slightly as the chaos over the comms became white noise to him. "we will never be having his conversation. ever. i'm supposed to go first and it'll be me. i don't care if i have to fight the fucking grim reaper for this, it'll be me and never you, you hear me? never — never you."

"when i'm gone," you continued as if he didn't practically tell you that he'd fight the devil if you went first and held onto his hand just a little bit tighter, as tight as your wounds would allow you to, "i want you to continue to invite simon around."

"darling — "

"no, please. i know you both and i know you'll just go away from the things that remind you of me and i don't want that," you talked quietly, your voice dipped in pain and john used his free hand to apply more pressure on it and when you didn't really wince or made a move to recoil back, his panic grew. "you both will remind each other of me and i don't want that to just hurt you more. invite him over, have tea, talk shit about me and — and just, keep him company. keep yourself some company."

"none of that is happening because you're not going away," john spoke sternly, his eyes determined and so confident that for a moment, he himself believed that you'd walk away from his alive and breathing. "we have years ahead of us and someone needs to be with me to make fun of riley for liking that stupid sitcom."

"i want you to be happy, dad," you continued, eyes fluttering close and stay shut for me even a longer time now and john panicked. "always happy."

"only when i have you," he shook you awake, your eyes shooting open at the motion and he almost cried in relief. he set you firmly against the wall and withdrew his hand from your grasp to talk over the comms. "lads, how's it looking?"

"positive, i believe. how's our miss soldier doing, sir?" gaz asked and john heard the occasional shower of bullets from his side and figured they were still stuck in the crossfire. "any damage to that billion dollar outfit of hers?"

"well, it's stained with blood now, so," john replied dryly and could feel gaz draw in a sharp inhale at that and figured he'd be out of the harm's way soon. "keep me updated."

he knew ghost was nearby, could feel his boots echoing in the almost empty hallways down the corridor and knew that you both were safe and secure. it was only when he looked away from the corner and back towards you that he noticed your limp hands and the way your head was slumped forward. he hands shook as he cupped your face and called out your name, almost hopefully.

"darling? honey, you gotta wake up," he spoke, almost inaudible and his own voice sounded foreign to him. it sounded too hollow and he hated that it looked like he had already accepted that you were gone. you were not. "come on, love. don't do this to your dad."

his hands were shaking terribly and blood smeared across your cheeks but he didn't care. all that he cared about was that you were there, still and so silent in his arms and you were not answering him. his could feel his heart break. he could make out exactly where it hurt him physically as he repeatedly called out your name and you did not respond.

heavy footsteps sounded from behind him and he didn't have to turn to know that it was simon — ghost, in that moment. he didn't have it in himself to turn. partly because you were here in his arms right now and if he turned, you being gone would be reality and he didn't wanna face that. partly because he didn't want simon to see you like that. blood trickling down the side if your head, face smeared with blood and a wound in the abdomen. no, john wanted simon to remember you happy, smiling and alive.

he wanted simon to have that much, even if his own last memory of you was you begging him to stay happy after your death.

and he thought about it. as he cradled your body close, rocking back and forth, he thought it was simply impossible. as if he'd ever be happy again without you here.

he didn't notice simon walk closer, didn't see him walk around to crouch in front of him and only realised that he was here when he called out his name. he couldn't even hear it clearly, high pitched ringing in his head and blurring images in front of him, the feeling of your blood on your hands, it was all just too much.

" — tain? captain?" simon called out, his eyes locking with his and john knew that it costed ghost his everything not to stare at you. his skull mask laid discared next to him, his signature balaclava in its place as he kneeled down. john could see the way his hold on his gun was too loose and the way his hands were trembling just the slightest bit as placed his gun back in his holster. "we need to get out of here."

"doesn't matter," john replied, his voice not giving away the turmoil in his heart and the war that was going on in his head. "she's gone, ghost."

"cap — "

"my daughter, she — fuck, my kid," john exhaled shakily, his hands carefully pushing away the strands of your hair out of your face. "lord, i don't have a child anymore."

"captain — "

"you don't get it, i'm not a father anymore!" john exclaimed, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence as reality settled in. the weight of it seeped into his bones and he knew that he would carry its weight for the rest of his life. until he saw you again. "i'm not a dad, anymore."

he couldn't let you go, couldn't place you down and let you be gone from him. he couldn't accept it and why would he want to? what kind of father would he be if he just accepted that he was never going to hear someone call him 'dad' ever again? he'd never hear the words 'i love you, dad' or 'good morning, dad' or see your face smiling at him after he came back from a particularly long and stressful deployment or have you hug him whenever you got a nightmare or drink tea with you and simon as he joked about your relationship with his lieutenant. how was he going to accept this cruel and wretched version of reality?

"you'll always be a dad, captain," simon spoke quietly, his hand reaching out to smooth your hand down and just like his own hands, john noticed that it shook. "always gonna be her dad."

john couldn't do anything except watch. he tried to move, his mind screamed at him to move but his body caged him down. the dead weight of you — his daughter — weighted him down and for a moment, he was so sure that he'd feel this weight for the rest of his life. because, how was he supposed to forget the way you asked him to be okay after you? how was he supposed to be okay after you?

how was anyone supposed to be okay after you?

he blinked, eyes stinging with tears that he refused to let down and looked towards simon who was too quiet. john looked at him, watched him as he leaned down until his forehead was pressed against yours and felt an invisible knife twist around his heart. he could see the balaclava move and figured he was saying something to you but the ringing in head refused to let him hear anything, though, he thought that he heard the words 'come back' and 'don't do this to me' and felt his heart break some more. he had never — never — seen his lieutenant look so hopeless. so defeated. not when he found out that you both had broken up for some indefinite reason, not when he got injured on a mission and the only thing he asked for was you, not when you had made it your mission to paint his nails and only relented after his nails were a shade of wine red.

no.

john had always seen ghost so full of life around you. he had always seen his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke to you in low tones, always seen his shoulders dropping from their usual tense posture whenever he was around you. he had always seen him as simon around you.

john looked at him and realised that not only did he lose his daughter, simon lost the love or his life. he lost the one thing and one thing only that made him the happiest. he knew simon loved you even though he hadn't said the words out loud out, he knew he loved you. it was evident in the way only you were allowed to hold onto his mask for him as he adjusted his balaclava, in the way he always listened to you speak about anything and everything under the sun and never once interrupted you, in the way he always brought back something for you from his missions, ranging from a rock to a dried flowers.

john looked at him and realised that at any cost, he'd have to make it through this, for simon. for your promise.

for you.

he nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything and moved to stand up, your head lolled against his shoulder as he placed his hand under your knees while the other wrapped around your shoulders. he stood up as carefully as he could, as if any movement would cause you discomfort and held on tighter to push himself to be on his feet and — you whimpered, your wound pressing against his vest and your dad stilled, frozen alongside simon whose eyes shot towards your face as you stirred, your expression scrunched up with pain.

it didn't take more than a second for ghost to abandon his gloves and check your pulse as you went still once again, forcing his hands to stay still. john pretended not to hear him whisper 'please' under his breath as he placed his hand on the side of your neck, mainly because he knew he would break down if simon didn't hold himself together.

he looked at ghost who nodded and then he was already off, walking swiftly in front of john and you as he put on back his gloves and drew his gun to clear out anything that could show up, making a path from their corner to the evacuation point. john walked as fast as he could without jostling you and mumbled rapid apologies as you groaned in pain.

"we're heading out," ghost informed soap and gaz who were on the other side of the floot, drawing out any left hostile parties left. he filled them in your condition and in less than thirty seconds, they were running towards the three of you, panting and guns drawn. "she has already lost consciousness and we need to get her back."

john could only walk wherever ghost turned, his movements a bit too robotic and as they cleared out the building, the only thought he had was you, your safety, your life.

he doesn't remember much of the ride home but judging by the blood — your blood — on his hands and clothes, and the number of times gaz asked him if he was okay, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

"so, i pass out from the pain and blood loss and your first guess is that i'm dead?"

"well, when you put it like that — "

"there is no other way to put it!" you laughed, instantly regretting your decision to do so as the action pulled on your stitches. "fuck — that's a bit dramatic, don't you think? did you even check my pulse?"

"listen — i was not thinking. my girl was just laying there in her own blood, what was i supposed to do?"

it's been more than a couple weeks since you've been discharged from the hospital, stitches in your abdomen and the side of your head but it's mostly inconvenient rather than painful if you could be honest and john and simon both know this because you have expressed this opinion far too many times.

john and simon both disagreed.

you wish you could say that they had toned the whole scary-guard-dog thing down ever since you got discharged from the hospital but you'd be lying. if anything, their protectiveness dialled a few notches up. if your dad was busy with something, simon stayed with you and vice versa.

now, your dad was protective. you had always known this. if you thought that there was no way he'd be able to get more protective than he was before this whole ordeal, you thought wrong. you weren't allowed to get up from your bed unless it was to stretch your muscles — (simon volunteered to help you with that. you dad threw his boot at him. thrice and then one more time for good measure.) — or to use the bathroom. you were on strict diet for the first week, mainly consisting of fluids and lots of proteins alongside the years' worth of medicine you had to take. he stayed home, officially on leave until he was sure you wouldn't collapse after standing for more than seven seconds and then he stayed for an extra week simply because he wanted to.

("i think i can pick up the remote without popping out my stitches."

"'m not talking any chances, kid.")

and then, there was simon.

if you thought that there could be no more increase in the protective measures after your dad, simon set out to prove you so wrong.

he stayed with you even after your dad went back to the base and that meant he stayed with you. you couldn't move an inch without his hand coming up to stabilize you — you told him you didn't need it, he disagreed — or just straight up pushing you back to sit down, gently and doing whatever you were out to do. it made your life just a tad bit difficult but you knew this was coming from a place of love — and fear.

"i'm okay," you smiled softly at your boyfriend, hands intertwining with his as you both laid on the couch while your dad worked in the kitchen, occasional shouts and gasps announcing his continued presence. "i'm okay."

"the fuck? you are not," simon's eyebrows were furrowed and you fought the urge to lean up and kiss the spot until he relaxed, partly because it would put pressure on your stitches and you did not need another lecture on basic medical knowledge by your dad and your boyfriend again. "don't make me tie to your bed."

"don't threaten me with a good time," you laughed softly at his blank stare, squirming away as he poked one of almost healed bruises. "fuck you."

"you're injured, not now," you could practically feel the smirk behind his mask and gave him the best unimpressed look you could. "stop lookin' at me like that."

"when was the last time you slept?" you ignored his advances and slapped away his hand that was coming up to tug you towards him, looking him in the eye. "you look worse than me."

"i'm breaking up with you."

"no, you're not."

"no, i'm not," simon sighed, his hand coming up to run through his grown blonde hair that he had intended to get cut — not by you because he doesn't trust you with scissors anywhere near his head. "i slept last night."

"liar," you narrowed your eyes at him, taking in the dark circles around his eyes and the way his eyes were droopy and how his eyes remained close when he blinked. "i heard you watching that movie you told me you hated."

"i was not — "

"simon," you sighed and he stopped speaking, knowing he was in for a lecture from you about his sleeping habits and his biological sleep cycle — something you wasn't even sure existed in his body. "love, why haven't you been able?"

he stayed silent, his hands fumbling with your hands and twisting your rings around your fingers. he almost smiled when he noticed the ring that he had made for you on your ring finger, a small 's' in the middle with a semblance of a tiny heart next to it.

"haven't been able to," he replied finally, his voice gruff with faux annoyance directed at your ability to coax answers out of him just like that. "too much going on."

you knew what he meant by that. the last couple weeks have been hectic to say the least and you couldn't help but feel guilty about being a part of the reason for your boyfriend not being able to sleep. "i'm sorry."

"shut up, what for?" he rolled his eyes and placed a fleeting kiss to your cheek, very near to your mouth before leaning back. "i'd take a few sleepless nights over your bleeding out any day."

you didn't say anything, just tugged on his arms firmly enough to make him get the hint and settle back into the mountain of pillows you had brought down from your room. he looked at you, a confused look in his eyes but complied as you pulled him towards yourself and wrapped your arms around him, smiling when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and finally, relaxed. he pulled back just for a moment, one of his hands coming up to squeeze yours when you frowned at the lack of contact while the other one pulled away his mask, leaving his face bare.

you had seen his face many times but each time, you found yourself falling in love more and more. you knew each and every scar that adorned his face, every inch of uneven skin. you had spent nights kissing all that he thought made him ugly and promised him that he thought so wrong. you said nothing as he looked at you once again, eyea squinting at you playfully before he was back in your arms.

"i love you so much, you know that?" you whispered, your hand playing with his hair. you could feel him press feather light kisses to your neck, his breath fanning over your exposed skin making a trail of goosebumps and you didn't mind it one bit. "you know that right?"

he hummed in reply, pressing himself as close to you as he physically could. you didn't stop playing with his hair, knowing how much it relaxed him and soon him, he went completely still next to you, his grip on your loosening just a bit as he went slack. you couldn't help but admire him when he was like this, his face free of the usual scowl that he pulled up with him at every table, the furrow of his eyebrow that you always kissed, the frown that he had whenever anyone spoke, it was all gone.

you didn't hear your dad come in, a tray of three steaming cups of tea in his hands and settled it down on the centre table, proud of himself. he picked up your usual cup, strawberries drawn on it with a few daisies in the middle spaces and gave it to you, smiling softly before turning to look at simon — who to his surprise, was fast asleep against your shoulder.

"he's knocked out," john remarked, making a mental note to make another cup of tea for simon whenever he woke up and settled back into his designated chair adjacent to yours. "never saw him this... relaxed."

"yeah, well," you sipped out of your cup before placing it on the side table, eyes flickering to simon's still figure before looking back at your dad, a small smile on your lips, "he's been pretty set on not letting me lift a finger."

"he's worried about you," your dad nodded and you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter. "never seen him so out of mind. you know he loves you, right? he would fold the earth in the half if anything happened to you."

"i know, dad," you replied, eyes locked on simon as he slept next to you. you could see his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in and out evenly. "i don't even know how i'm supposed to tell him just how much he means to me. i don't know where to begin."

"he knows," he stated, sipping out of his own mug — with small yellow crowns — and setting it back down. "you'll both make it, you know? don't need to see the future to figure that out."

you knew what he was talking about.

you'd make it. of course, you would. it was simon who held your hand randomly while you walked around your town. it was simon who made sure that you were always stocked up with your favourite candies and chocolates. it was simon who learnt how to make paper rings because you were singing that song about how you'd marry him with paper rings. it was simon, always.

and even if this lifetime was enough for you, you knew that you'll find yourself falling for him in every other life. in all the universes out there, in every version of reality, you'd find yourself in love with him. you knew this much, you felt it in your bones.

maybe in another life, you would've seen him from across the bar and he would've sent a drink your way. maybe you would've ran into him at a coffee shop and he would've asked you your favourite blend. maybe you would've been childhood friends and he would've always been in love with you.

it would always be you and him.

"yeah, i know."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

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vvallent1ne · 1 year

Text

𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 - dbh.

𝗜𝗧𝗦 𝗦𝗔𝗙𝗘 to say that the androids are at their breaking point. Boiling point. Freezing point. Whatever point. What’s the point again? Autumn didn’t even know that androids had any points, any objectives, any goals. That was until the revolution, of course.

Revolution this, revolution that. It’s all the same. The word has become cough medicine on her tongue—the kind that she hated taking but had to endure anyway. That kind.

It was all over the news. Whatever station she flipped to—the only stations that her “family” could afford—were talking about it.

“We pray that soon this war between master and slave will soon reside. We pray that we’ll be able to rid of the fear our own creations have brought upon us.” Station 13 spoke.

Skip.

“As the severity of the revolution-“

Skip.

“In God’s name we pray-“

Skip.

“It’s been reported that a man has been found dead in his own home,”

Gosh, finally something interesting.

“Police believe it could be the doing of an android-“

Fuck. Skip.

“There‘s been no update so far on the missing Oakley boy. Some citizens think that an android might’ve taken him—though the police have found no evidence yet. Our hearts go out to the family of the boy. We have hope he will turn up soon.”

The two things Autumn hated hearing about were being blasted into her ears at full volume. The man on the television’s forged frown makes her want to rip her hair out.

And the television went black.

They had lost power again, no doubt. Her “parents” never remembered to pay the bills. Even if they remembered, they wouldn’t be able to afford them.

“Yeah, they’ll find him,” Autumn hears Henry, her foster father, enter. “Dead in a ditch somewhere, alright.” And he laughs like it’s the first joke in the world and he’s the only audience.

“I’m going to bed.” Autumn speaks as she runs up the stairs, to where Grace—her foster mother—had showed her where she’d be sleeping. Not bothering to tell Henry goodnight.

As Autumn sits down on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress (they’re stingy asses couldn’t even give her a real bed), she grabs her bag pack and reaches inside.

A note. Full of scribbled, stressed handwriting. His handwriting.

do u know the answer to the third one? It read.

The note was also fairly crumpled, because Autumn had refused to give him answers and jeopardize her own score.

pls autumn. dad is gonna beat my ass if i don’t pass. Autumn traced her fingers along the letters, smudging the lead a bit. He even drew some sad faces in the corners of the index card. He always drew them weirdly. He actually drew circles for eyes and then added pupils to it. And the frown was huge, outlined heavily in a desperate fashion to fish answers out of her. She looked on the other side of the card—her side—and read her response.

She flipped back to his side.

please autumn.

Back to hers.

Back to his.

Until she realized that there was nothing more on his side. That was it.

Autumn didn’t even realize she was crying until she saw a drop dampen the paper—right next to where he had signed his name. she always told him that she didn’t need his signature, that she could recognize his messy handwriting in her last moments, even if everyone else couldn’t. The drop seeped through the card, the remainder falling to the stained, carpet floor.

Noah always told her she had thick tears. This tear, however, was so thick that it almost covered up the entire signature.

- N. Oakley.

#dbh #detroit become human #detriot become human #connor dbh #markus dbh #kara dbh

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter introduces some new plots and conflicts, so it jumps around a little more than the previous ones.

I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two

Henry Curtis was one of the most infuriating people Lee had ever met. Curtis was a writer for the Columbus newspaper and constantly pestering the Sheriff. Curtis seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever the Sheriff did anything. He was desperately trying to catch the Sheriff doing anything but so far had remained unsuccessful. Curtis was the biggest obstacle Lee faced in winning re-election. The man would show up out of nowhere, pen and pad in hand ready to find anything that would be enough to keep the Sheriff out of office.

Maybe Curtis was just doing his job, but Lee always felt like it was much more personal. It was probably just his own resentment of the man who was just doing his job. But the man didn’t have to be so goddamn invasive. When the Sheriff had devised his plan on offering to rent a room from you, he was so tied up in his own mess of divorce and his somewhat confusing feelings towards you he had completely forgotten about the press. They would have a field day with the divorce alone, but now on top of everything else, Lee knew he should be more careful.

Lee always had to be careful, especially if he was meeting Leroy Brown. Lee would make sure he drove way out of town, and always insisted they met at a different location every time. This would infuriate Brown but Lee was the only lawman he had working for him. Sometimes Lee would drive several hours out of the way, always at some deserted ghost town or some sad excuse for a diner or a bar. Always somewhere no one would recognize him.

Lee lied to you and told you he and a few of the deputies would need to drive out of town for a stakeout when he needed to meet with Brown. It was one of those nights, sitting in the cruiser with the headlights off, as he parked in an abandoned parking lot almost two hours out of town.

He had been able to put this off for a couple weeks, lying about other legitimate jobs getting in the way. Honestly, it was because he wanted to one, avoid anything that would cause suspicion from Henry Curtis hearing he was back in town and two, he was selfishly allowing himself to just spend his nights at his new home, spending all the time he could manage with you. It was like being in that little white house was a place where he could let himself be delusional, and time spent with you was what his life actually was, not this mess he was currently dealing with. He wanted out.

Lee knew he wasn’t a good man. He knew that his laundry list of offenses had tarnished his badge a long time ago. He knew what he was doing, and before he never cared. Now, he’s thinking about how his actions could affect you. You were innocent, unaware of everything he was stuck in. He knew you weren’t stupid, and he was sure the town knows some about his corruption. But now, he couldn’t rationalize away his actions for any reason when it came to you. Janie? She didn’t care and would encourage it. She’d be in on it too. She’d have no problem lying to ladies at Church or starting other rumors to keep the town talking about anyone but Lee. She was as power hungry as he was sometimes, which could be a testament as to how their loveless marriage held together for so long.

***

“Hi, I’m looking for a Ms. (Y/L/N)?” the man asked when he approached you, talking a seat at one of the barstools.

“Who’s asking for her?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’m Henry Curtis, I work for the Columbus Dispatch.”

“The newspaper?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m doing a story on her mother’s marriage to Harvey Tucker.”

“She’s not here tonight. But I can let her know you were here. Do you got a card?”

The man pulled out a business card from his wallet and slide it across the bar. You picked it up and read all the information before putting it in the pocket of your apron.

“Seems weird for the Columbus paper to want to do a story on that a month and a half after it happened,” you said skeptically.

“We did cover the story when it happened,” Curtis informed you. “Doing a follow up since the story broke about his wife missing.”

“Missing?” you ask. “Do they know what happened?”

“Robbed the bastard blind and then ran apparently,” Curtis said casually looking past you at the chalkboard on the wall. “Scotch, neat.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, grabbing the bottle from the shelf. “Has anything else been found out yet?”

“Not yet, that’s why I’m here. Checking in to see if she’d come back here because I heard Ms. (Y/L/N) still lives around these parts.” He then pulled a newspaper out of the inside pocket of his coat and started flipping through the pages.

“She has another kid too, right?” you asked, playing dumb. “A boy, I think. Do you know where he is?”

“Couldn’t say,” he sounded very indifferent, “Most likely went with her but who knows? I went to the Sheriff’s office to see if they knew anything but the Sheriff wasn’t there.”

“That’s too bad,” you say. “I’m sure Sheriff Bodecker would help you help if he can.”

Your statement made Mr. Curtis chuckle, but you didn’t follow up on it. You were just focusing on getting as much information about your mother and brother as you could.

“Speaking of Mr. Bodecker,” he began, “I recently saw his wife is getting remarried. Saw the announcement of the engagement in the paper.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” you respond, skeptically. You didn’t know why but you didn’t trust this man. It was something in the tone of his voice, or maybe it was just how he held himself. Very polished, a suit and a nice dress jacket. He looked very out of place in this town, and this little bar.

“You familiar with the Sheriff at all, miss?”

“Not too well,” you shrug, “Haven’t had any run-ins with the law myself.”

“Not even a speeding ticket?” He asks, only a little condescendingly.

“Can’t get a speeding ticket if you don’t have a car,” you point out.

“Touché,” he chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

He doesn’t ask you anymore questions, and when he leaves, he gives you a five-dollar tip.

***

Lee receives his cut from Brown. There was nothing new to report on that front and his meeting went by smoothly. All Lee had to do was to turn a blind eye, and make sure the rest of the department stays unaware of the brothel’s existence. Brown always insisted on meeting with him, wanting to know what the Sheriff’s department was investigating and making sure his businesses stayed under the radar. He felt sick, and is preoccupied with the fact he has an envelope of dirty money in the cruiser’s glovebox.

It’s around midnight when he pulls up to the house. He expects that you’re already asleep, but he notices the lamp is on in the living room. He takes the money out of his glovebox and tucks it away into the inner pocket of his jacket. Coming inside, he finds you on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the business card Mr. Curtis had given you. You face is stained with dried up tears, and you still haven’t even changed out of your work clothes.

“What’s that?” he asks, the sight of you breaking his heart. He winces because he comes off a lot harsher than he meant.

“Some reporter came while I was at work wanting to talk to me,” you explain softly, you sound exhausted. “Wanted to talk to me cause he’s doing a story on my mother. Apparently, she’s on the run from the Columbus police.”

You extend your hand to give Lee the card. He feels his jaw clench when he reads the information. “What happened?” he asks, taking a deep breath and sitting down next to you.

“I pretended I wasn’t me,” you say, another tear rolling down your cheek. “He came in asking for me so I said I’d pass his card on. I didn’t want to tell him who I was because he didn’t explain why he was looking for me at first. I don’t know- just scared me. I’m more upset about the news itself than him.”

“You did the right thing,” Lee said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. He was angry, but he didn’t show it. It worried him, fucking Curtis snooping around this close to you. It made him feel protective, wanting to shield you from the whole ordeal. He had been on the receiving end of unsolicited attention from the press and he knew how ruthless they were. He knew this wouldn’t be the only time Curtis would try to get in touch with you. He’d find out where you lived, he’d continue to show up while you were working- the whole nine yards. He didn’t want you going through that.

Curtis talking to you also made him incredibly paranoid. It was his two worlds that he desperately wanted to keep apart were colliding. He knew it was impossible, but he so wanted to keep you separated from the other part of his life. It wasn’t who he wanted you to see. Hell, he hasn’t even been here for a month. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep you in the dark, at least that wasn’t entirely intentional. Actually, he wasn’t sure, maybe it was intentional. However, it wasn’t just you he wanted to hide aspects of his life from. He wanted his involvement with Brown and others hidden from every goddamn registered voter. You were no different, he tried to rationalize. But that wasn’t true. These feelings he harbored for you, were getting worse. He needed to unwrap himself from this situation, and for the sake of you finding out he was a shill, keep you away from that asshole. He didn’t want to let himself think about how the way you look at him would change.

And here he was, making the situation all about him. It was in his nature.

“He’s just going to show up again if I don’t call him,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Maybe I should just call him in the morning. Just be honest and say I don’t know anything. He can keep coming around but nothing is going to change.”

“I can take care of it,” he says. He couldn’t risk you talking to Curtis again. For all he knows, Curtis would tell you all about the story on the Sheriff he’d been trying to confirm for years. Lee knew he couldn’t let that happen. He fully intends on telling you, but how the hell do you bring that up? ‘Hey doll, I’m also on the payroll of every pimp and bootlegger in a ten-mile radius, just letting you know.’ It wasn’t going to come up, unless Curtis tells you about it. He’d be hoping to pull himself out if it, show you how you made him want to be better.

For now, he settles for comforting you, and just being there to take care of you. Make you feel better. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and lets you cry into his chest. He sighs, kissing the top of your head in a friendly way and you curl up against him. Under different circumstances, you probably wouldn’t have let yourself do this- show your vulnerability or allow anyone to comfort you like this. But it was all the events of the past month, your mother leaving, everything, just all hitting you at once, and you were happy you weren’t alone.

In the morning, you wake up on the couch with a blanket over you. You see Lee asleep in the chair, and you realize he stayed with you all night. It makes your heart flutter. You pull the blanket up over your chin and close your eyes again. You felt surprisingly well rested. The stress and worry were pushed to the back of your mind long enough to let you get some sleep. It still lingered in the back of your mind, but you reminded yourself that for now, there was nothing you could do. You had the day off, and you let yourself have a little longer time to sleep in.

You woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of sizzling on the stove. When you opened your eyes, Lee was no longer in the chair. You sat up and looked toward the kitchen, where you saw Lee with his back to you while he worked with the pans on top of the stove. The portable radio was positioned on the counter, and it was playing at a low volume, so it wouldn’t wake you up.

“Hey,” you say softly, still waking up as you walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, doll,” he says, glancing back at you for a moment. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” you admit, grabbing a mug for yourself out of the cabinet. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the smell before making it how you usually take it. “Thank you for sitting with me,” you say honestly, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he says with a small grin. “I just wanted to help.”

“I really appreciate it, Lee,” you reiterate your thanks, hopping up to take a seat on the counter, watching him cook breakfast. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” he smirks, making you feel flushed. You take another drawn out sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself. You watch his arms, and his hands as they maneuver and flex when he cooks. You imagine how they must feel, your eyes focused on the veins. You bit your lip and it reminds you of the dream you had a little while back when he first moved in. You imagine him stepping in between your legs as your propped up on the counter, his hands gently gripping your thighs and-

“I’ll get it,” you announce hurriedly as you hear someone knock on the front door. You hop off the counter careful to not spill your coffee, and head to answer the door. Lee watches you bounce out of the room, fixing your hair as you go and you don’t catch his smile.

“Arvin,” you say surprised, stepping out onto the porch. “What are you doing here?” you ask, with a small grin. You’re confused but nonetheless happy to see him.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he observes, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say dismissively, “Just last night I was thinking about my ma and everything. Just had trouble sleeping is all.”

“The Sheriff didn’t do anything?” Arvin asked in a hushed tone, looking over your shoulder to see if Lee could hear you two.

“No, nothing, he’s been perfectly fine,” you say coming to the Sheriff’s defense. “I know you and Ms. Russell are worried, I know how it must look- but Arvin I swear he’s just my tenant. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

“Just making sure,” he says, letting it go for now. “Lenora asked me to bring these by for you.” He hands you the glass baking dish that you can see is filled with homemade cinnamon rolls. “She’s been practicing making all kinds of baked goods for when the Church does that bake sale and has me running all over town giving it away cause me and Uncle Earskell can’t keep up with it all.”

“Tell her thank you for me,” you say with a smile, “And I’ll bring the dish with me to Church tomorrow- give it back to her.”

“She misses you I think,” Arvin says sheepishly, pushing his hands into his front pockets. “I mean- I do- I think my whole family does- we all do. I’m sorry my grandmother hasn’t asked you over in a while…”

“I understand,” you nod. “Reputation is an important thing.”

“I just didn’t want you to think it was because of us,” he says looking down at the porch, his eyes fixed on a loose board. “You know how she is- everything no matter the context is somehow a sin. Scared to death of her own shadow…”

“I know you’re not that resentful, Arvin Russell,” you chuckle and he relaxes. “And I don’t hold any hard feelings towards anyone in your family- you all have always been good to me.”

“Well, um,” he says awkwardly, looking like he was holding back from saying more. “I got to hit a couple more houses before I head to work, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at Church?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Oh- I wanted to let you know,” he says, turning around as he’s already heading down the front steps, “The principal down at the high school is looking for secretaries- Lenora heard and thought you might be interested. It pays like $35 a week, I think. You should call Linda Carson; I think Lenora said- that’s the woman who’s in charge of hiring people, I think.”

“I’ll call the school first thing Monday morning,” you say, grin stretching from ear to ear. Arvin nods and says goodbye again. You walk back into the house like you’re on top of the world. You couldn’t contain your excitement. That job if you could get it would be a dream. You’d be making so much more than you’re already making. You were so excited.

“You’re in a much better mood than when I last saw you,” Lee jokes. He’s sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while he eats his breakfast. You notice that he made you a table setting- brought your coffee over and everything. You place the baking dish in the middle of the table and sit down.

“That was Arvin,” you say happily, and Lee feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, trying to not let on how his heart feels like it’s crushed. He knew it was only a matter of time before a boy would come around- whether it be Arvin or someone else your own age.

“Well, first he was just dropping off baked goods Lenora made,” you say gesturing to the dish on the table. “He’s going around to everybody, I guess. He mentioned the high school is looking for office secretaries- Lenora wanted me to know. Thirty-five dollars a week! I’m going to talk to Linda Carson about it Monday morning. Can you imagine? I could get a secretary job.”

Lee feels just a crash of relief wash over him. He’s so happy that you are looking at a new job. You deserve better than that bar. He knew you deserved the job just as much as any of the other candidates. You work harder than anyone he knows.

“That’s fantastic, sugar,” he replies. “You deserve it.”

“Do you think I have a chance?” you ask, feeling a little self-conscious- you knew you weren’t as experienced as other candidates would be for sure.

“Of course, I do,” he says, putting down the paper to give you his full attention. “I feel like you getting this job is a definite. There’s no doubt about it.”

“You’re just buttering me up,” you scoff, finishing up your food, making him chuckle. You may have also seen his cheeks redden, but you couldn’t say for sure. You finish off your coffee, and then bring you dishes back to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink. Lee turns his attention back to his newspaper and you head upstairs to get ready for your day.

When you head upstairs, Lee notices that you took the radio with you- and he could hear you were listening to music from upstairs. He decides before it’s too late to ring Mark Cunningham. The line rings a couple of times before Mark answers.

“Cunningham.”

“Morning, Mark. It’s Sheriff Bodecker,” he smirks.

“What can I do for you Sheriff?�� he asks, the sound of shuffling paper comes through as well. Most likely flipping through the paper.

“I wanna call in that favor you owe me,” he says, casually pacing the living room, holding the receiver up to his ear and the base of the rotary phone in the other.

“Of course, Sheriff,” he says. A while back, Bodecker busted the principal making moonshine in his old barn that was at the end of his property. Lee looked the other way and was waiting for the right thing to call in a favor for.

“I want you to hire (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for the secretary job,” he says, looking to the stairs, making sure you aren’t coming. The music is still playing loudly from upstairs so he determines he’s still got time.

“That’s all?” Mark asked surprised.

“That’s all I want from you,” Lee replies. “I expect you can make that happen?”

“Without a doubt. When can she start?”

“Still have her come in for an interview. I don’t anyone else knowing I called you about this- including her.”

“Done.”

With that, Lee hangs up the phone, feeling really good about this decision. He knew how much that job meant to you- he could see it in your eyes and how excitedly you talked about it. He can’t wait to see you when you find out you get the position. He knows it’s going to make you so happy. He knows you’d be a fantastic candidate, but this just eliminates any doubt. He reasons that there isn’t much difference, since you were very likely to get it anyways. He just had to make sure.

He can picture you know, coming home from the interview- excited to tell him that you got the job. You’d be so excited you’d jump up and hug him tightly, just so overjoyed that you let your feelings take over. You’d wrap your legs and around his waist and he’d hold you up by holding the back of your thighs. You’d wrap your arms tightly around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck. You’d lift your head up to look at him, embarrassed at your actions and then he’d press his lips to yours. You’d gasp softly, but your lips would melt against his own and your arms would wrap tightly around his neck. He’d walk forward, pressing you up against the wall and he’d kiss your neck mumbling praises of congratulations against your skin as his name falls from your lips at how good he’d make you feel. It’s almost unbearable how bad he wants you.

He heads to him room to get ready for his day, but his mind is still clouded with thoughts of you. He thinks about how much he wants nothing more that to just pin you on his mattress. He wonders if you know how crazy you make him. Sometimes there’s something in your eye that makes him think you want him too, but he’s not sure. His better judgement holds him back from everything he wants to do. He thinks about how it must feel to have his head right in-between your thighs. Back in the kitchen together, he wanted to just get on his knees and worship you. The feeling of them pressing against him as he sucks on your clit and runs his tongue across your folds.

Serval hours later, he can’t shake the thoughts, even sitting in his office at the sheriff’s station- working on a Saturday yet again. He’s cooped up in his office, unable to get through any of the paperwork that has piled up on his desk. He’s thinking about you, again, but in this daydream, you’re bent over his desk- because you came by to see him on your break from work at the school. His office door locked and his blinds pulled so he can bend you over and take you right there- rough and fast, sending you back to work with a feeling of him still there between your legs well after you’re back at your own desk, still sore from the encounter.

“You got a visitor, Lee,” the intercom on his desk lights up.

“Send ‘em in,” he responds back, shaking his head to snap out of it. He needed to get a grip.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you say, walking into his office. His eyes widen and he wonders if he’s still day dreaming. He discreetly pinches himself. You’re actually here, standing in his office, while he looks at you dumbfounded. Part of him would think he manifested it if he was a man of any faith. “You forgot this,” you say, putting his wallet on the desk. “You must have taken it out of your back pocket before falling asleep in the chair last night. It was laying on the coffee table. I figured I’d stop by with it while I was coming up this way anyways.”

“You’re a doll,” he grins, putting his wallet in his back pocket. “What are you doing?”

“I took the bus to the library to return some books, and now I’m going shopping for something to wear when I go in for an interview since I have the day off to go,” you explain. “I’m also probably going to get lunch after that before heading back home. I just didn’t want to be home in case that reporter stopped by. I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

“I can take care of it,” he says, “He’ll make his way over here soon enough. I can talk to him.”

“You would do that for me?” you ask, the relief evident across your whole face.

“Yeah, I can talk to him, let him know you gave a statement here,” he says. You nod. “You know as much as he does, so it doesn’t matter if I tell him you don’t know shit or if you tell him.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you sigh, so relieved thinking that you won’t have to hear from Henry Curtis again. “If he tells you anything about them… will you let me know?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you say, hurriedly walking over behind him and quickly hugging his shoulders. You then are back by the door again before he can register the gesture. “Are you going to be home tonight?” you ask, your hand on the doorknob.

“Not until late,” he says reluctantly, and he can see the disappointment on your face- unless his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Okay,” you say finally, “Um, I’ll see you later then.”

“Bye, doll,” he says when you walk out of his office.

Are you going to be home tonight? Your voice lingers in his head. It was such a harmless phrase that could’ve just been one of curiosity. Maybe you were just asking because you were thinking about what you were doing for dinner. It most likely just meant nothing. But, the look on your face when he said no makes him think otherwise. Did it mean you cared? That you wanted to spend time with him? You wanted to see him and be with him as desperately as he needed you perhaps? Just the phrasing itself makes his brain feel like putty. It’s like you’re waiting up for him. It’s like you share the house in a way that’s much more than just him renting a room from you. It’s like you’re his and he’s yours. It’s like saying our house… our home. The question was so intimate and implied so much more about how you saw him and what he was to you. He knew seeing him as how he saw you was next to impossible, but you saw him as more than the Sheriff and more than just the jerk living in your house.

Part Four

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #smut #the devil all the time #angst #lee bodecker x y/n #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader

487 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 3 years

Note

I accept your adopted reporter!Yuu au, but what if they ran away from the families and got adopted by Crewel's sister. Like, Yuu just gets overwhelmed with being starved and abused by Miss Rosehearts, always being pitied for not having magic like the rest of the Kingschoolar family, having to basically be bellow the Asim all the time, or be prepared to die in order to protec Malleus Draconia. So they just run away. It was such a cold night when they left their "home". They were shivering, trembeling, maybe from the cold or fear they didn't know. In the midlle of nowhere they heard a loud bark, then the sound became higher and for some reason it multiplied, the fragille child just gave up after hearring it, laying on the ground accepting their fate, when the dogs got near the kid they closed their eyes, only to be licked multiple times in the face, confused they made a decision to open their eyes. The dogs were just puppies, they signed in relief, the adorable fluffy balls started guiding the to a house, where there was a woman and her husband frantically looking for their dalmatians, when they look at the entrace of their house and see their small angels with a shivering child they immediatly take them in. Since the previous family didn't even bother to search for them, the lovely couple just adopt the child.

(Sorry for the long ask and bad grammar, English is not my first language)

-Lz

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

(And don’t worry about it! Your English is fine! I love long asks anyways!!)

And oooh, there’s so much potential here!

Especially for Divus coming to visit one weekend and just spiderman pointing at experiment #Y26 sitting in the center of the living room in a puppy pile, like “how did you get here?!?”

While little Yuu is just bug-eyed at being pointed at by a stranger, hugging a puppy close.

Heartslaybul:

Yuu tries to get Riddle to come with them when running away from the Rosehearts household. Riddle refuses point blank. Running away would be against the rules. He can’t break the rules. Yuu breaks so many rules and gets so hurt...and Mother was so angry when she realized they’d broken the rules together on Riddle’s birthday. They have a fight about it, with Riddle screaming that Yuu should just go if they’re going, or he’ll tell Mother! That’s the last conversation they have as Rosehearts siblings.

Yuu sends back letters, constantly coaxing Riddle to join them, telling him he’d love the puppies, that he could eat all the strawberry tart he wanted, that there’s always room for one more in the Radcliffe family. Mrs. Rosehearts found the tenth one while Riddle was reading it. She tore it up, confiscated all his others, and destroyed any new ones that came in, telling Riddle to forget them, that he had no sibling. It’s telling that when kidnapped by Royal Flush, Yuu recognizes Trey first before figuring out who the supervillain now holding them hostage is. Riddle for his part is hardly able to keep his masquerade together when he realizes who was the one involved in the destruction of his precious fertilizer.

It’s a very awkward reunion, not helped by Chen’ya deciding to ‘save’ them at the most inopportune moment and dropping them off a balcony. Yuu makes an effort to stick their nose into Royal Flush’s schemes and get kidnapped by his minions more on purpose. They refuse to leave him behind again. Riddle won’t say he’s grateful for the clumsy attempts to make up lost time, but he’s more irritated when other supervillains keep kidnapping his sibling and putting them in danger, especially when none of them are suitable for Yuu!

Savannaclaw:

It doesn’t help when everyone tells Yuu that they’re not cut out to be a Kingscholar. Yuu tries their best, tries so hard, but it always feels like it’s not enough, never enough, when even Leona-nii tells them it’d be better if they weren’t in this family, if a powerless human like them just disappeared. So they follow his advice. It hurts them badly when no one even comes looking, when their ex-parents send them a letter later in life forbidding them from attending the celebration of Farena-nii’s first child, their nephew, saying they’ll have them arrested for trespasssing if they don’t turn down their oldest brother’s invitation.

They try to stay away from news of the Kingscholars, only exchanging brief letters and emails with Farena-nii, Leona hasn’t even replied to the first letter they sent him. They do well, becoming a fine reporter and shining on their own merits and hard work. They get embroiled with Royal Flush, becoming far more entangled with a supervillain than their common sense says is wise. And then they get kidnapped from Royal Flush’s lair by a rival, have a selfie taken with this new villain’s minions.

They recognize Leona-nii’s drawl as they’re set down in a cheap chair. He at least looks as rudely surprised as they do when the bag is pulled off of their head again. A very tense reunion, with accusations about abandonment and cowardice and not replying to letters being thrown back and forth. Ruggie, Jack and the other minions very much wish they weren’t in the room for this. Then Royal Flush and his Card Guards show up to rescue Yuu, and Leona decides now is the best time to play the overprotective big brother, much to Yuu’s exasperation.

Scarabia:

Yuu wouldn’t run from the Vipers just because they were constantly being told they were lesser. They could endure that, even as it slowly broke them. But if they failed to protect the Asim they were supposed to guard with their life? If they couldn’t stop him from getting hurt, and were deemed a failure as a bodyguard, not as naturally clever and cautious as Jamil and his sister? Then they would run, for fear of what the Asim would do to a failure of a servant who couldn’t fulfill their duty.

Jamil’s the one who tells them to, and has Kalim create a diversion so they can get out. He burns every letter they send back without reading them—they’re proof his sibling is alive, but also a potential way for them to be tracked down and cause problems. Yuu recognizes Snake Charmer within a minute of being kidnapped, because who else would do that tongue thing he always did when he was winning at mancala when they were kids? And then they realize to their horror who that means Water Boy is. Cue furious muffled whispering between the pair about why he would rope Kalim into becoming a supervillain, he can’t keep a secret to save his life, that it wasn’t his idea, Kalim just invited himself along for the ride, you know how hard it is to get him to quit when he’s set on something!

Kalim is just really happy to see Yuu-chan again! They’re alive! And okay! And look good! And not dead! He’s really, really glad they’re not dead! And feel so nice to hug now! Jamil, don’t they feel nice to hug now! Jamil feels many, many alarm bells going off in his head, and it’s not just because of all the other supervillains who are sniffing around his sibling.

Diasomnia:

The one family that lets Yuu go willingly and stays in touch with them after they end up with the Radcliffes. Lilia is upset when comforting Yuu about their persistent nightmares about being incapable of protecting Malleus, cleaning them up when the stress makes them physically ill and strains their previously excellent relationship with the young master and the other guards nearly to the breaking point. It’s breaking Malleus’ young heart to see his ‘younger sibling’ push themselves like this, only to hate themselves when they fall short. He wishes they could go back to before, when he’d walk around with them as a chubby little baby in his arms and all they worried about was whether he was mispronouncing the gargoyle terms in his architecture books.

Maleficent is also sad when Lilia reports that he doesn’t think Yuu’s cut out for the type of work the Silver and Sebek have taken to with such ease. She’s fond of the child, so she personally searches out the best family she thinks will take care of Yuu while being safe enough for Malleus to visit if he wants to. The Radcliffes are an unexpected gem, relatives of an old acquaintance who already has a vested interest in Yuu’s survival and who knows better than to cross her. Plus Malleus and Yuu both seemed very taken by the puppies, which scored major points.

Malleus, Silver, Lilia, and Sebek will often visit Yuu on weekends and certain holidays when they’re growing up. Anita and Roger need to stop Maleficent trying to pay for everything when Yuu’s growing up. Yuu is initially concerned when Malleus becomes a supervillain, especially when he takes the childhood nickname they gave him as his supervillain name, but does their best to support him. Malleus, for his part, is having the time of his life, enjoying his late night walks and tea parties with his sibling now they’ve both grown up. But his colleagues’ interest in the little reporter make him and his closest lieutenants worry about Yuu, especially when the love potion and marriage contracts come into play...

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gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

Golden Cage

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: You asked Andy to take your case and he asked for you to give yourself to him as payment. (18+ ONLY!!)

Words: 6.3k (lmao sorry)

WARNINGS: dub con, blackmail, coercion, possessive behavior, bad smut, slight angst. SPOILERS FOR DEFENDING JACOB!

A/N: Kinda blurred boundaries here.

MASTERLIST

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You needed more concealer or the only way you’d be going out in public would be with turtlenecks. Andy loved to leave marks on your neck and the rest of the body, and he hated you covering them up. The moment you would come back, the first thing he does is drag you to the bathroom to wipe the makeup off and bare your bruises to his eyes. They were marks of his ownership over you, and they reminded you both of the truth: You belonged to him.

Your life took a turn nearly a year ago when your brother was accused of third-degree murder of his colleague. The case was pretty much a public trial and the scandal rocked your world. Not only did your brother get arrested, but you lost your job too by means of association. You knew your brother was innocent, he would never hurt a fly let alone a human being. But try as you might, you couldn’t get a lawyer to represent him. That’s when Andrew Barber stepped into your life.

Having left prosecution and taking up defense cases, Andy and you met in the police station where you had gone for some information. You were filling a form talking to an aid, the only one who seemed to sympathize with you when Andy walked in. The lady had pointed at him and said, “If anyone could have won a case like yours, it would be him. As an ADA, Andrew Barber never lost a case and he carried that record as a defense lawyer too. But he’s very selective in his cases and well…expensive too”.

You had looked up and followed her gaze and words, a tiny spark of hope lighting in you. After you had hastily filled your form, you waited outside the station hoping you could catch Andy leaving and plead your case to him. When he came out, you waited until he reached his car to approach him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Barber?”, You said, twisting your fingers in the hem of your shirt. He turned to look at you in question.

“Yes?”

“Uh, my name is Y/n Y/l/n.” You said and Andy’s eye flashed with recognition of your last name.

“How can I help you Miss Y/l/n?” His voice had a tinge of pity because he knew what you were going through. He’d been through it himself and lost everything in that battle.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of my brother’s case Mr. Barber. I need all the help I can get. He’s innocent. I know he is innocent! Would you please help me?” You were ready to leave your dignity and kneel in front of him if you had to. Your brother was your whole world and you were ready to sacrifice everything for him.

Andy sighed. He looked at you silently before reaching into his pocket and handing you his card.

“Make an appointment for tomorrow, okay? I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. Bring all the files you have on the case and anything else that you think might be of help.”

You’d arrived at the appointment ladened with a huge box of papers. You were surprised when you were told to meet Andy at his house and not his office, but you saw no reason to complain. His house was huge and cozy, but recent changes were visible. Empty bolts on the wall showed recently removed pictures and you quickly recalled the story about the Barber’s scandal you’d read on the net last night. It was a nasty business and you knew deep in your bones that Andy could help you and your brother because he had personal experience with something like this.

“Would you like a drink?”, Andy asked you, taking a seat across from you in his kitchen.

“Just some water please”, You answered, nervously looking at him. He had forgone his business formal inside his home and was wearing a button up with dark jeans. He handed you a glass of water and then motioned to the files in front of you.

“May I?” He asked and you nodded, sliding them over to him and sipped your water.

Andy looked over the papers for quite a long time, his brow furrows. He took out a small notepad and scribbled something on it between his reading, one finger tracing his beard. You looked at him anxiously, trying to decipher his reaction. If you could convince him to take the case, then all hope was not lost for your brother.

After going home last night you had read everything you could about Andrew Barber, and pity had swelled in your heart for him like an ocean. This brave man had lost more than his good name in the society. His ex-wife Laurie was in prison in the attempted murder of their 15-year-old son Jacob, who was still recovering from the injuries inflicted to him by his mother. How Andy could still manage a normal life with work was a wonder. He was only in his 30s to have gone through something so traumatic and you hoped that once this case was over, you could rise from the ashes like him.

After taking a good look at the papers, Andy finally put them down and leaned back on his chair, folding his arms against his chest. You looked at him nervously, chewing on your lip as you waited for him to speak. His gaze lingered for a moment on your lips before meeting your eyes.

“May I please call you Y/n?” He asked and you nodded. “Y/n, I wouldn’t say that this is an easy case. You know it isn’t. Evidence is heavily stacked against your brother.”

“But?”

“But it’s not completely hopeless either. There are loopholes, a lot of them in fact. A lot of evidence is mostly circumstantial, and if we can find some experts to recreate the murder scene digitally, we might be able to prove that your brother is innocent. The stab wound is near the heart, a difficult place to lodge the knife in since you need to get through the rib cage. The murder weapon was quite deep inside the body, meaning a lot of force has been used. I’ve seen your brother’s pictures and just read his reports.” Andy smiled a little. “He certainly doesn’t look like someone strong enough to make this kill wound, especially since there are signs of struggle which would make it even more difficult.”

You looked at him with your mouth parted, eyes wide and hoping. Your heart was beating widely in your chest and you wet your lips before speaking.

“So, there is a chance he will get off?”, You asked.

“I think if we play the right strategy and work things out, there is a chance he might get off.”

You almost lunged across the table and hugged the man. Unbidden, tears stinged your eyes and you sniffled, trying to keep them from rolling down your cheeks. Andy got up and walked around to your side before handing you a tissue. You dabbed your eyes and looked at him with gratitude in your eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”, you sobbed. He patted your back until you calmed down and then sat down beside you. It was only then that another thought hit you. Lawyers like Andy Barber didn’t come cheap. You were so focused on helping your brother you had no idea how you’d pay what you were sure would be thousands of dollars to him.

“Mr. Barber, about the-” You started to say but he cut you off by raising a hand.

“Call me Andy, we’ll be spending lot of time together solving this one. And about payment, don’t worry. I know how difficult a position you are in right now. We can talk money later, after things are a little more sorted.” His words were soft, and you immediately protested.

“I can’t do that. I can’t take advantage of your kindness like that. I’ll write you a cheque, though the next one may take a while. Please, I’ll get the money.” Now that there was a chance to get your brother out, you’ll do anything. You’ll take another job, sell your crappy apartment and car too if you had to. Anything to get your baby brother back under your roof, safe and sound.

“Please Y/n, I insist. We can talk payments later. Right now, we should focus on your brother.” You looked at Andy and murmured a small thanks and he asked you what you’d like for lunch so you can discuss the case over it.

And so, it went. Almost every day after work, you sped down to Andy’s house straight and talked over the case. The scheduled visit with your brother went well and Andy was sure the experts he had hired could give conclusive evidence to how your brother’s body type didn’t match that of the murderer. Over the next few weeks, you became consumed in this battle for justice, and every second of the day you thanked your lucky stars for Andy who became your rock. He always knew just the right thing to say, and more often he was like a friend who heard you out. When things got too difficult and you felt like you were being crushed under the pressure, he would comfort you by ways of a hot mug of coco.

The case progressed smoothly and by the time Andy made the closing arguments, you were sure your brother will be coming home with you. Everyone was right, Andrew Barber was a court room wizard and you saw him in action. The night that your brother came back, you invited Andy and Jacob to dinner. You saw Jacob frequently when you were at the Barber’s and you got along with him nicely. It hurt you to know that a boy so young had to deal with so much in his life, but he still smiled and went on with his life.

Throughout the dinner, your brother thanked Andy incessantly, almost bowing down. There was laughter under your roof the likes of which you didn’t know would ever come back. After eating, your brother and Jacob departed to play some video games and you held Andy back.

“Can we talk?”, you asked him and motioned him away from the living room to the small room you used as a study. He nodded and followed you, closing the door behind you.

“Everything okay?” He asked

“Andy, I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me. You’ve been so kind and nice to me I feel completely indebted to you. I know you’ve been skirting around the money issue, but please, you need to let me pay you.” It was true. Anytime you brought up the topic of his payment he had changed the subject. You thought it had to do with the fact that your relationship was more than just attorney-client and more like friends and it made him uncomfortable to take money from you.

“I don’t want your money, Y/n”, Andy said firmly.

“Why the hell not? I don’t want your charity Andy. You’re my friend, and you helped me get back everything I thought I would lose. I don’t think I can ever repay you for your kindness, and money is the least I can do. Please”

Andy looked at you for moment before moving to stand right in front of you.

“I don’t want your money.” He repeated. “But you can repay me a different way.”

You looked at him speechlessly, not following. He raised a hand and gently moved a strand of your hair behind your ears.

“Andy…” You whispered.

“I don’t want your money. I want you.” He said and placed his hands on your waist, bringing you closer. Your heart beat a furious rhythm against your chest, and you forgot how to breath for a moment.

“I – what? I don’t understand” You said, trying to move away from him but he would let up. His hands tightened around you and kept you in place.

“I want you. I want you to be mine.” He said and your eyes widened. You pushed against his chest, needing to create some distance between you. You had not seen this coming. Never had you felt any untoward advances from him, he never touched you wrong. Hell, he didn’t even hug you for an unnecessary amount of time. Your relationship was the very definition of platonic. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Andy, what’s wrong with you. I thought we were friends. Please, let me go.” You said and surprisingly he released you and walked back a couple steps.

“We are friends, but I want more than that. I have wanted that for months, but I didn’t say because you had enough on your plate. I don’t want you going back to your house at night when you visit me. I want you under my roof, inside my bed and under me. Look how good you’re with Jacob too. We will be great together.”

You gaped at him and stumbled to a chair and sat down.

“I will not be your personal whore, Andy Barber!” You sneered at him and he started, shaking his head. He came and knelt before your feet, taking your hands in his.

“That’s not what I said at all. I would never do that to you.” He vehemently disagreed. “I want someone to love and cherish, I want a family. I know you can give it to me.”

You tried to jerk your hands out of his, but he held them fast.

“I’m sorry about how this is going. I wasn’t planning on talking about this tonight. But you forced my hand. I want you Y/n, and I will have you. Even if I had asked you out, I know you would have said no because you want to work and provide for your brother. Isn’t that true?” He asked.

He was right. You didn’t plan on dating anyone, anytime soon. You had to focus on your career and there was no place for a man in your life no matter how nice he was.

“You said I gave you back your life. You said you want to repay me. This is what I want. You.” He pressed a kiss on your hands and looked intently in your eyes.

“And what if that’s something I don’t want?” You asked.

Andy’s eyes darkened and he glared at you. He had spent months working tirelessly on your brother’s case and been nothing but a gentleman. He didn’t see any reason why you shouldn’t want him.

“In that case, I’ll make you want me.” He said. “I will never do anything to hurt you, trust me. But I can create situations where the only person who can help you will be me. You’ll run right back into my arms. I – I don’t want to do anything bad. I just want you. Be mine.”

He didn’t say it explicitly, but you got his meaning loud and clear. He’s an influential person, he could do any number of things to force your hand. He had been kind to you till now, but if you gave him reason to be cruel, he will be. This man could very well take away everything he gave you and you both knew that.

Later that night after Andy and Jacob left, you told your brother you want to move in with Andy. He was shocked by the suddenness of the news and you fed him some cock and bull story about falling for each other during the trial and not wanting to keep it a secret now that he was out of prison. Your brother was happy for you, telling you that he’s glad you’ve found someone like Andy who would always protect you. You agreed, Andy would always protect you from the world. But there was no one who could protect you from him.

A week later you moved into Andy’s house. Jacob greeted you at the door and took your stuff inside, apologizing that he couldn’t stay long as he’s spending the weekend at a friend’s. Your heart sank at the thought of being alone with Andy for the next two days. You hadn’t spoken much since he all but forced you to into living with him. You saw Andy in the kitchen, setting up the table and wiping the counters. He painted an utterly domestic figure, walking barefoot in his sweats and T-shirt. Seeing you arrive he smiled and moved closer to kiss your cheek and hug you.

“Welcome home, sweetheart”, He whispered in your ear, holding you close and pressing his forehead to yours. Your hands lay limp at your side and you tried to give a small smile and not push back. You heard an awkward cough from behind you and realized Jacob was fake gagging and giving his father a cheeky grin.

“Can you two like, not do this when I’m here?”, He teased and earned a playful swat from his father.

“You get out of here and don’t cause too much trouble.”, Andy said, and Jacob gave a thumbs up and wink to you both and hurried out. You heard the door shut and your hands became sweaty now that you were alone with Andy after a week. No sooner had Jacob departed that Andy’s hands cupped your face and he pressed a searing kiss on your lips. He put a hand behind your head and coaxed your mouth open, deepening the kiss and moaning. You put your hands around his wrists, closing your eyes.

“Come on, kiss me back like a good honey.” Andy said and you forced yourself to respond. His kisses were like molten fire, all passion and heat that lay over you like a warm blanket. Pulling away, Andy kissed your forehead and eyelids and then just looked at you. His eyes were blown wide and dark, his lips red and moist. You gulped as he kept his eyes on you, drinking in your sight in his arms. He hadn’t touched you that night at your place. Didn’t even kiss you. But now that you were here all alone with him, under his roof…you suppressed a shudder.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here. Come, dinner’s ready.” He led you over to the table and pulled out a chair for you. He sat beside you and filled your plate with your favorite dishes. You thanked him, eating quietly, and wondering what would happen to you tonight. Going by the way Andy’s hand was creeping up on your thigh, you knew you were in for a long night. Andy talked throughout dinner about his day and cranky clients. He shared things like a husband would to his wife and you resisted the urge to bolt out of his house. You made small noises of acknowledgment, too nervous to actually speak. There was much you wanted to ask about how things will progress from now.

“I’ve emptied one side of the closet. You can unpack tomorrow and then we can go shopping for whatever else you might need. We’ll ask Jake to click some pictures to hang around too. The walls are so bare now. Maybe a family portrait in the hall above?”

Your fork clattered to your plate as you heard him talk and you stared at him in disbelief. You’d been hear barely an hour and he was planning your life in a way that gave you chills. With every word he spoke, every plan he had, you felt like he added another bar to your prison.

“Andy, I think I should stay in another room.”, You said softly, and Andy frowned.

“Like hell you’ll stay in another room. You’ll stay with me, sleep in my bed right in my arms. You’re mine now, I think I made it very clear?”

You bit your lip and nervously played with your fingers, trying not to anger him.

“What about Jacob? Would he like it, me staying in your room? I mean, his mother lived there not too long ago and...” You stopped when Andy grabbed your chin and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“You just saw Jake. Did you see any hesitance in him when he welcomed you in? I’d already spoken to him anyway. He has no love for the woman who almost pushed him through death’s door. He likes you and he’s happy for me.”

You nodded and finished the rest of your dinner in silence. You offered to do the dishes, but Andy asked you to relax and see about the place while he tidied up. You wandered up the stairs, a part of house you had not been to before. You opened the first door on the left and found a messy room with a big screen and video games. Closing the door, you ventured forward and opened the door towards the end. This would most probably be your room. The bed was huge, and you moved inside to explore. There was an attached bathroom and a massive walk in closet where you could see Andy had cleared space for you. You sat on the bed and opened the first drawer in the bedside cabinet, finding medicine and phone charger. Opening the second, you found it scattered with stationary and other bits and bots. However, what caught your eye was the box of condom tucked in the back. You took it out and gulped in fear.

“I didn’t think you’d want a baby just right now.”, Andy said from the doorway, startling you. You turned to him and set the box down, moving backward subconsciously as he came towards you and shut the door behind him. He stood in front of you and cupped your jaw, stroking gently.

“You’re so beautiful, every time I look at you my heart stops.”, He whispered, then he bent down and kissed you deeply, his tongue in your mouth and hands roaming your sides. You gasped, your own hands fisting his t-shirt. Holding you around the waist, Andy pushed you back in the middle of the bed, climbing over you and starting to unbutton your shirt. You quickly held his hands, trembling slightly. He looked at you with that dark look in his eyes and you slowly retracted your hands and allowed him to strip you of your shirt. He sucked in a breath, pure worship in his eyes as he took in your shirtless body and reached behind you to unclasp your bra. His hands glided over your collarbones and breasts, gentle in their exploring and squeezed. You moaned despite yourself. You didn’t expect him to be this good to you. You thought he would ravish you like an animal in heat.

Andy kissed you then, one hand on your hip, the other beside your head holding his weight. You responded without really meaning to, getting lost in the heat of him. His smell smothered you until you could taste it on your tongue, and you let out a groan of pure satisfaction as he sucked a hickey into the juncture of your neck. Leaving a searing line of fire with his lips, he whispered in your ear.

“I will bath your body with my tongue until I own each and every part of you. I will mark you as mine and claim you completely. When this night is over, you will crave me with a frenzy that only my touch can quench. I’ll not just make you want me; I’ll make you thirst for me. You’ll beg me to touch you, to mark you and to fill you up.”

His words were a promise and you clenched your thighs in anticipation. That night, he proceeded to take you as his. His laved your body with his tongue, suckling, biting, and leaving marks. Your nipples were wet and sore from his attention, your core drenched and dripping. He made you cum first with his mouth, slurping on you, making you tremble and shout. Then he stretched you around his fingers, moaning dirty fantasies into your mouth while you shook under him. You remember him impaling you on his cock, remember feeling every vein of him even through the condom, you felt him stretching you wider than ever before and you cuming hard enough to see stars. He claimed your body in ways you didn’t think was possible, and you woke up the next day with bruises on parts you didn’t even know could bruise.

Your life with Andy was not unpleasant as such, but it was a golden cage. He got you what you wanted, he never stopped you from working or force you into something you didn’t want to do. You told him you didn’t want to try anal sex and he never pushed for it. You told him you missed your study and he converted a room into a library for you. In all aspects, he was the dream guy any woman could want. Only, you never had the option to make this choice. It was thrust upon you and you had to live it no matter what.

The only thing Andy insisted on was your loyalty and time. He told you in no uncertain terms that if he so much as smelled another man’s cologne on you, he’ll tie you up and edge you until you remembered who you belonged to. You didn’t think he was serious until one night Andy lost his cool after watching you hug a colleague who dropped you home. You ended up tied spread eagle on the bed, crying tears of frustration as he edged you with his mouth and a vibrator for hours. It wasn’t until you sobbed out, “I’m yours!” that he let you cum. The other thing he wanted was your time. He never interrupted your work, but if you’re home, he is the only thing that should be on your mind. He kept you close, always an arm on your waist or you in his lap. His possessiveness knew no bounds and Jacob often joked that he’d need a sawing machine to separate you.

You couldn’t say you hated Andy because you didn’t. Even when he had first forced you into a relationship, you didn’t hate him. He’d been a good friend to you and a great support. He had done too much for you to ever hate him, as you were reminded every time you saw your brother. But you couldn’t say you loved him either. The very fact that if you had a choice you wouldn’t be here gnawed at you. While you laughed with Andy when you saw movies or sighed in pleasure when he put those hands on you, you couldn’t bring yourself to love him. You cared for him, you loved to wake up with his face between your thighs or with your face between his. You loved it when you sat as a family to play scrabble and you and Jake teamed up to beat Andy. You loved it when he tickled you into submission or when you gave him a massage after a tough day at work. But you didn’t love him.

So, it was with trepidation that you looked at the ring you found in his underwear drawer. Settled into a small velvet box, it was a silver band with diamonds lining it. Your hand shook slightly, wondering what you’ll do once he asks you the question you’d been dreading for months now. Did you even have the choice to say no? Did you want to say no? You put the box back where you’d found it and went through your day acting like nothing happened. The next few days you lived in anticipation, wondering every time Andy went into the closet if this would be it. But the ring stayed where it was and with each passing day you became as annoyed as you became relieved.

“Come here, sweetheart”, he said to you one night, holding out his hand and pulling you in his lap on the bed. You snuggled against his chest, you head on his shoulder and arms around him. He stroked your back, placing a kiss on your head as he rocked you slowly.

“Do you want to go back to your brother’s house?” He asked softly and you pulled away to look at him with puzzled eyes.

“What?”

“If you want, you can go back to living with him.”

Your heart started pounding in your chest, breath coming out in stuttered gasps. You didn’t know why but tears filled your eyes as you looked at him in utter disbelief.

“You want me to go away?” Your voice was small, broken like that of a kicked puppy. Andy pulled you tight into himself, holding you close while he cooed at you and shushed.

“No, no baby. I never want you to go away. I just feel like you want to go away.” He said and you buried your head in his neck, not understanding why you weren’t leaping across the room and packing your stuff. This is what you always wanted, your freedom. And now when it was being put on a platter for you, you clung to your prison and your captor.

“I – I don’t know what I want”, you sobbed helplessly, and Andy held you as you cried. He patted your head and pulled your face up to look into your eyes.

“While I am deranged enough to keep you with me like this, even I won’t force you into a marriage. I know you saw the ring, and I know you’ve been withdrawn ever since. I love you, more than anything in the world. You know that, and I’m pretty sure everyone who sees us knows that. Which is exactly why I am willing to set you free. I may be a bad person, but I won’t be a monster. I am giving you the choice you have always wanted. You can go if you want, I won’t stop you. I will not hold anything over you. I want you to be happy, and if that is away from here, away from me, so be it. I won’t be the person holding your happiness at bay.” He said.

You remained silent and after a while Andy set you down on the bed and got up.

“Think about it, it is your choice this time.” He kissed your head and left the room. That was the first night in over a year you’d spent alone, and you cried yourself into a restless sleep, reaching out for the warm body not there. You woke up with eyes sealed shut by dried tears and your whole body aching. The sun was high in the sky meaning you slept well past noon. You walked downstairs into the kitchen, looking around for Andy. You needed to see him, touch him. You needed assurance that he was still there and hadn’t left you. You found Jacob working on his assignment and joined him at the table.

“Good afternoon”, he teased with a smile. Then he looked at your face and cringed. “Jeez, you look sick. Can I get you something? You want me to call dad?”

“I’m fine, just tired. Where is Andy?”, you asked with a raspy voice and gratefully accepted water from Jacob.

“He left early, I think. Left a note on the fridge saying he’ll be back later.” Seeing your face fall, Jacob got up and patted your arm. “You sit here while I get you some coffee. You look like you really need it.”

You nodded and tried not to sniffle. Here was a boy who felt like your own son despite you being not that much older to him. You had a family right here, even if you hadn’t asked for it this way. You held your head in your hands, confused.

Jacob got you coffee and some snacks to munch on. He kept looking at you out of the corner of his eyes, pretending to work. You put down your mug after a few silent minutes and asked him if something was wrong.

“Did you reject dad?” He asked you after hesitating. You gaped at him in shock.

“What? I – No. Why would you say that?”

Jacob turned red stuttered. “Its just…dad showed me the ring. I thought he asked you and well, you’re in such a state and he left early which he has never done since you got here, I thought you said no.” You looked down in your lap, wanting to go upstairs and cry in your pillow.

“Hey, I am so sorry. I just – please don’t say no because of me.” Jacob said earnestly. “I am okay with your relationship. More than okay, in fact. After mom, well, I thought I would never see dad smile again. And then he met you and he started cooking and humming songs again. Then once you moved in…it felt like life had gone back to normal. He became better than before. Mom and he used to fight all the time, but you and he click. So please, if you are worried about me, don’t be.”

You chocked out a pathetic sob and hugged a bewildered Jacob who tried his best to console you. You almost laughed as he let out a few “there there” and “it will be okay”. He was so much like his father.

“Jacob, I think I love your father.”, you said with tears rolling down your cheeks. Jacob grinned a smug smile and breathed out a quite laugh.

“Why do you say that as a bad thing?” He asked.

“Because I don’t know how to tell your father about it” you confessed. Jacob stood up and took you with him. Placing his hands on your shoulder, he turned you around.

“I don’t think you need to tell him anymore.”

Andy stood at the entrance, looking at you both with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He moved closer while you flushed in embarrassment, looking at the floor and shuffling like a naughty child caught causing mischief.

“You, leave.” Andy ordered his son who was smiling like Christmas had come early.

“As if I’d stay for what’s about to happen. I quite like the innocence of my eyes.” Jake joked and scampered when his father glared at him. Andy stood in front of you, looking down at you until you finally raised your head to peak at him from under your wet lashes.

“So…”, he trailed off and you almost stomped your feet once you saw the amusement in his eyes. He is going to milk this moment for all it was worth. You’d made him wait long enough for this.

“So…” You said as well.

“I take it you aren’t going back to your brother’s?”

“No”, you whispered. You wanted him to touch you, to make you his again. Spending one night away from him had driven you almost insane with loneliness. You needed him and yet he didn’t put a hand on you.

“Why not?” He asked instead, tracing his bottom lip with his finger. You squirmed as you watched his action, heat pooling between your legs at the thought of that sensual mouth.

“I – I changed my mind”

“You did, did you?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

You glared at him, making him smirk. You broke and took hold of his collar, pulling him close and brushing your lips against his.

“You know why!” You hissed, trying to kiss him harder but he resisted.

“I don’t know, I mean, is the sex that good?”

The bastard. He was teasing you here and enjoying your discomfort. To hell with everything. You should have just written it on a scrap of paper and dumped it on his lap or something. But then you looked in his eyes which were dancing in the afternoon light, his eyes which had only ever held affection for you. You pushed yourself on you toes and put your mouth against his.

“I love you”

You were in his arms then and he carried you upstairs before you realized what happened. Throwing you on the bed and locking the door, he removed his shirt and climbed over you.

“Again”, he ordered, his lips burning against your throat.

“I love you”, you cried. Your hands found their way into his hair and tugged, making him growl. Both of you tore at your clothes, mouths meeting and teeth gnashing in a desperation to get closer.

“Again”, he said, holding your naked body beneath his, his cock poised at your entrance.

“I love you”

He entered you in a smooth stroke, making you clench around him. He pulled back and looked into your eyes, thrusting slow and deep, relishing in your mewls. He made love to you and you sang the words in his mouth and ear until you both came with muffled cries.

Sweaty and laying in each other’s arms, you basked in the newfound feeling of togetherness. You knew this wasn’t how a normal person falls in love. You realized that someone else may think something was wrong with you. But it is what it is. You loved this man after everything he had done to do. You loved him and you will do your best to let him know that every chance you could.

“So, are you gonna give me that ring now?” You asked.

Andy laughed and looked at you tugged into his naked body.

“With how much you’ve made me wait, you should be the one getting down on your knees.” He joked.

You looked at him with a teasing smile and got up.

“You only had to ask”, you breathed against his mouth before moving down on his body and getting to your knees, ready to show him how much you loved him again and again.

#andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #andy x reader #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #dark!chris evans #dark!chris evans x reader

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antiporn-activist · 3 years

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The Children of Pornhub

Why does Canada allow this company to profit off videos of exploitation and assault?

By Nicholas Kristof, Opinion Columnist, Dec. 4, 2020, New York Times

This article contains descriptions of sexual assault. It’s also really long.

Pornhub prides itself on being the cheery, winking face of naughty, the website that buys a billboard in Times Square and provides snow plows to clear Boston streets. It donates to organizations fighting for racial equality and offers steamy content free to get people through Covid-19 shutdowns.

Yet there’s another side of the company: Its site is infested with rape videos. It monetizes child rapes, revenge pornography, spy cam videos of women showering, racist and misogynist content, and footage of women being asphyxiated in plastic bags. A search for “girls under18” (no space) or “14yo” leads in each case to more than 100,000 videos. Most aren’t of children being assaulted, but too many are.

After a 15-year-old girl went missing in Florida, her mother found her on Pornhub — in 58 sex videos. Sexual assaults on a 14-year-old California girl were posted on Pornhub and were reported to the authorities not by the company but by a classmate who saw the videos. In each case, offenders were arrested for the assaults, but Pornhub escaped responsibility for sharing the videos and profiting from them.

Pornhub is like YouTube in that it allows members of the public to post their own videos. A great majority of the 6.8 million new videos posted on the site each year probably involve consenting adults, but many depict child abuse and nonconsensual violence. Because it’s impossible to be sure whether a youth in a video is 14 or 18, neither Pornhub nor anyone else has a clear idea of how much content is illegal.

Unlike YouTube, Pornhub allows these videos to be downloaded directly from its website. So even if a rape video is removed at the request of the authorities, it may already be too late: The video lives on as it is shared with others or uploaded again and again.

“Pornhub became my trafficker,” a woman named Cali told me. She says she was adopted in the United States from China and then trafficked by her adoptive family and forced to appear in pornographic videos beginning when she was 9. Some videos of her being abused ended up on Pornhub and regularly reappear there, she said.

“I’m still getting sold, even though I’m five years out of that life,” Cali said. Now 23, she is studying in a university and hoping to become a lawyer — but those old videos hang over her.

“I may never be able to get away from this,” she said. “I may be 40 with eight kids, and people are still masturbating to my photos.”

“You type ‘Young Asian’ and you can probably find me,” she added.

Actually, maybe not. Pornhub recently was offering 26,000 videos in response to that search. That doesn’t count videos that show up under “related searches” that Pornhub suggests, including “young tiny teen,” “extra small petite teen,” “tiny Asian teen” or just “young girl.” Nor does it necessarily count videos on a Pornhub channel called “exploited teen Asia.”

I came across many videos on Pornhub that were recordings of assaults on unconscious women and girls. The rapists would open the eyelids of the victims and touch their eyeballs to show that they were nonresponsive.

Pornhub profited this fall from a video of a naked woman being tortured by a gang of men in China. It is monetizing video compilations with titles like “Screaming Teen,” “Degraded Teen” and “Extreme Choking.” Look at a choking video and it may suggest also searching for “She Can’t Breathe.”

It should be possible to be sex positive and Pornhub negative.

Pornhub declined to make executives available on the record, but it provided a statement. “Pornhub is unequivocally committed to combating child sexual abuse material, and has instituted a comprehensive, industry-leading trust and safety policy to identify and eradicate illegal material from our community,” it said. Pornhub added that any assertion that the company allows child videos on the site “is irresponsible and flagrantly untrue.”

II.

At 14, Serena K. Fleites was an A student in Bakersfield, Calif., who had never made out with a boy. But in the eighth grade she developed a crush on a boy a year older, and he asked her to take a naked video of herself. She sent it to him, and this changed her life.

He asked for another, then another; she was nervous but flattered. “That’s when I started getting strange looks in school,” she remembered. He had shared the videos with other boys, and someone posted them on Pornhub.

Fleites’s world imploded. It’s tough enough to be 14 without having your classmates entertain themselves by looking at you naked, and then mocking you as a slut. “People were texting me, if I didn’t send them a video, they were going to send them to my mom,” she said.

The boy was suspended, but Fleites began skipping class because she couldn’t bear the shame. Her mother persuaded Pornhub to remove the videos, and Fleites switched schools. But rumors reached the new school, and soon the videos were uploaded again to Pornhub and other websites.

Fleites quarreled with her mother and began cutting herself. Then one day she went to the medicine cabinet and took every antidepressant pill she could find.

Three days later, she woke up in the hospital, frustrated to be still alive. Next she hanged herself in the bathroom; her little sister found her, and medics revived her.

As Fleites spiraled downward, a friend introduced her to meth and opioids, and she became addicted to both. She dropped out of school and became homeless.

At 16, she advertised on Craigslist and began selling naked photos and videos of herself. It was a way to make a bit of money, and maybe also a way to punish herself. She thought, “I’m not worth anything any more because everybody has already seen my body,” she told me.

Those videos also ended up on Pornhub. Fleites would ask that they be removed. They usually would be, she says — but then would be uploaded again. One naked video of her at 14 had 400,000 views, she says, leaving her afraid to apply for fast-food jobs for fear that someone would recognize her.

So today Fleites, 19, off drugs for a year but unemployed and traumatized, is living in her car in Bakersfield, along with three dogs that have proved more loyal and loving than the human species. She dreams of becoming a vet technician but isn’t sure how to get there. “It’s kind of hard to go to school when you’re living in a car with dogs,” she said.

“I was dumb,” she acknowledged, noting that she had never imagined that the videos could be shared online. “It was one small thing that a teenager does, and it’s crazy how it turns into something so much bigger.

“A whole life can be changed because of one little mistake.”

III.

The problem goes far beyond one company. Indeed, a rival of Pornhub, XVideos, which arguably has even fewer scruples, may attract more visitors. Depictions of child abuse also appear on mainstream sites like Twitter, Reddit and Facebook. And Google supports the business models of companies that thrive on child molestation.

Google returns 920 million videos on a search for “young porn.” Top hits include a video of a naked “very young teen” engaging in sex acts on XVideo along with a video on Pornhub whose title is unprintable here.

I asked the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children to compile the number of images, videos and other content related to child sexual exploitation reported to it each year. In 2015, it received reports of 6.5 million videos or other files; in 2017, 20.6 million; and in 2019, 69.2 million.

Facebook removed 12.4 million images related to child exploitation in a three-month period this year. Twitter closed 264,000 accounts in six months last year for engaging in sexual exploitation of children. By contrast, Pornhub notes that the Internet Watch Foundation, an England-based nonprofit that combats child sexual abuse imagery, reported only 118 instances of child sexual abuse imagery on its site over almost three years, seemingly a negligible figure. “Eliminating illegal content is an ongoing battle for every modern content platform, and we are committed to remaining at the forefront,” Pornhub said in its statement.

The Internet Watch Foundation couldn’t explain why its figure for Pornhub is so low. Perhaps it’s because people on Pornhub are inured to the material and unlikely to report it. But if you know what to look for, it’s possible to find hundreds of apparent child sexual abuse videos on Pornhub in 30 minutes. Pornhub has recently offered playlists with names including “less than 18,” “the best collection of young boys” and “under- - age.”

Congress and successive presidents have done almost nothing as this problem has grown. The tech world that made it possible has been mostly passive, in a defensive crouch. But pioneering reporting in 2019 by my Times colleagues has prodded Congress to begin debating competing strategies to address child exploitation.

Concerns about Pornhub are bubbling up. A petition to shut the site down has received 2.1 million signatures. Senator Ben Sasse, a Nebraska Republican, called on the Justice Department to investigate Pornhub. PayPal cut off services for the company, and credit card companies have been asked to do the same. An organization called Traffickinghub, led by an activist named Laila Mickelwait, documents abuses and calls for the site to be shut down. Twenty members of Canada’s Parliament have called on their government to crack down on Pornhub, which is effectively based in Montreal.

“They made money off my pain and suffering,” an 18-year-old woman named Taylor told me. A boyfriend secretly made a video of her performing a sex act when she was 14, and it ended up on Pornhub, the police confirmed. “I went to school the next day and everybody was looking at their phones and me as I walked down the hall,” she added, weeping as she spoke. “They were laughing.”

Taylor said she has twice attempted suicide because of the humiliation and trauma. Like others quoted here, she agreed to tell her story and help document it because she thought it might help other girls avoid suffering as she did.

IV.

Pornhub is owned by Mindgeek, a private pornography conglomerate with more than 100 websites, production companies and brands. Its sites include Redtube, Youporn, XTube, SpankWire, ExtremeTube, Men.com, My Dirty Hobby, Thumbzilla, PornMD, Brazzers and GayTube. There are other major players in porn outside the Mindgeek umbrella, most notably XHamster and XVideos, but Mindgeek is a porn titan. If it operated in another industry, the Justice Department could be discussing an antitrust case against it.

Pornhub and Mindgeek also stand out because of their influence. One study this year by a digital marketing company concluded that Pornhub was the technology company with the third greatest-impact on society in the 21st century, after Facebook and Google but ahead of Microsoft, Apple and Amazon.

Nominally based in Luxembourg for tax reasons, Mindgeek is a private company run from Montreal. It does not disclose who owns it, but it is led by Feras Antoon and David Tassillo, both Canadians, who declined to be interviewed.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau of Canada calls himself a feminist and has been proud of his government’s efforts to empower women worldwide. So a question for Trudeau and all Canadians: Why does Canada host a company that inflicts rape videos on the world?

Mindgeek’s moderators are charged with filtering out videos of children, but its business model profits from sex videos starring young people.

“The goal for a content moderator is to let as much content as possible go through,” a former Mindgeek employee told me. He said he believed that the top executives weren’t evil but were focused above all on maximizing revenue.

While Pornhub would not tell me how many moderators it employs, I interviewed one who said that there are about 80 worldwide who work on Mindgeek sites (by comparison, Facebook told me it has 15,000 moderators). With 1.36 million new hours of video uploaded a year to Pornhub, that means that each moderator would have to review hundreds of hours of content each week.

The moderators fast forward through videos, but it’s often difficult to assess whether a person is 14 or 18, or whether torture is real or fake. Most of the underage content involves teenagers, the moderator I spoke with said, but some comes from spy cams in toilets or changing rooms and shows children only 8 to 12.

“The job in itself is soul-destroying,” the moderator said.

Pornhub appears to be increasingly alarmed about civil or criminal liability. Lawyers are circling, and nine women sued the company in federal court after spy cam videos surfaced on Pornhub. The videos were shot in a locker room at Limestone College in South Carolina and showed women showering and changing clothes.

Executives of Pornhub appear in the past to have assumed that they enjoyed immunity under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, which protects internet platforms on which members of the public post content. But in 2018 Congress limited Section 230 so that it may not be enough to shield the company, leading Mindgeek to behave better.

It has doubled the number of moderators in the last couple of years, the moderator told me, and this year Pornhub began voluntarily reporting illegal material to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. After previously dragging its feet in removing videos of children and nonconsensual content, Pornhub now is responding more rapidly.

It has also compiled a list of banned content. I obtained a copy of this list, and it purports to bar videos with terms or themes like “rape,” “preteen,” “pedophilia” and “bestiality” (it helpfully clarifies that this “includes eels, fish, octopus, insects”). Diapers are OK “if no scatophilia.” Mutilation depends on context but “cannot depict severing parts of the body.”

So while it is now no longer possible to search on Pornhub in English using terms like “underage” or “rape,” the company hasn’t tried hard to eliminate such videos. A member called “13yoboyteen” is allowed to post videos. A search for “r*pe,” turns up 1,901 videos. “Girl with braces” turns up 1,913 videos and suggests also trying “exxxtra small teens.” A search for “13yo” generates 155,000 videos. To be clear, most aren’t of 13-year-olds, but the fact that they’re promoted with that language seems to reflect an effort to attract pedophiles.

Moreover, some videos seem at odds with the list of banned content. “Runaway Girl Gets Ultimatum, Anal or the Streets” is the title of one Pornhub video. Another user posts videos documenting sex with teenage girls as they weep, protest and cry out in pain.

While Pornhub is becoming more careful about videos of potentially litigious Americans, it remains cavalier about overseas victims. One Indonesian video is titled “Junior High School Girl After Class” and shows what appears to be a young teenager having sex. A Chinese sex video, just taken down, was labeled: “Beautiful High School Girl Is Tricked by Classmates and Taken to the Top of a Building Where She Is Insulted and Raped.”

“They’re making money off the worst moment in my life, off my body,” a Colombian teenager who asked to be called Xela, a nickname, told me. Two American men paid her when she was 16 for a sexual encounter that they filmed and then posted on Pornhub. She was one of several Pornhub survivors who told me they had thought of or attempted suicide.

In the last few days as I was completing this article, two new videos of prepubescent girls being assaulted were posted, along with a sex video of a 15-year-old girl who was suicidal after it went online. I don’t see how good-faith moderators could approve any of these videos.

“It’s always going to be online,” Nicole, a British woman who has had naked videos of herself posted and reposted on Pornhub, told me. “That’s my big fear of having kids, them seeing this.”

That’s a recurring theme among survivors: An assault eventually ends, but Pornhub renders the suffering interminable.

Naked videos of Nicole at 15 were posted on Pornhub. Now 19, she has been trying for two years to get them removed.

“Why do videos of me from when I was 15 years old and blackmailed, which is child porn, continuously [get] uploaded?” Nicole protested plaintively to Pornhub last year, in a message. “You really need a better system. … I tried to kill myself multiple times after finding myself reuploaded on your website.”

Nicole’s lawyer, Dani Pinter, says there are still at least three naked videos of Nicole at age 15 or 16 on Pornhub that they are trying to get removed.

“It’s never going to end,” Nicole said. “They’re getting so much money from our trauma.”

Pornhub has introduced software that supposedly can “fingerprint” rape videos and prevent them from being uploaded again. But Vice showed how this technology is easily circumvented on Pornhub.

One Pornhub scandal involved the Girls Do Porn production company, which recruited young women for clothed modeling gigs and then pushed them to perform in sex videos, claiming that the videos would be sold only as DVDs in other countries and would never go online. Reassured that no one would ever know, some of the women agreed — and then were shattered when the footage was aggressively marketed on Pornhub.

Girls Do Porn was prosecuted for sex trafficking and shut down. But those videos continue to surface and resurface on Pornhub; last time I checked, videos of six victims of Girls Do Porn were on Pornhub, which continues to profit from them.

One of the Girls Do Porn women I saw on Pornhub is now dead. She was murdered at 20, allegedly by an angry ex-boyfriend who is about to go on trial. I’m not disclosing her name because she should be remembered as a vibrant college athlete, and not for a sex video that represented her most mortifying moment.

VI.

So what’s the solution?

I had expected the survivors to want to shut down Pornhub and send its executives to prison. Some did, but others were more nuanced. Lydia, now 20, was trafficked as a child and had many rape videos posted on the site. “My stomach hurts all the time” from the tension, she told me, but she doesn’t want to come across as hostile to porn itself.

“I don’t want people to hear ‘No porn!’” Lydia told me. “It’s more like, ‘Stop hurting kids.’”

Susan Padron told me that she had assumed that pornography was consensual, until a boyfriend filmed her in a sex act when she was 15 and posted it on Pornhub. She has struggled since and believes that only people who have confirmed their identities should be allowed to post videos.

Jessica Shumway, who was trafficked and had a customer post a sex video on Pornhub, agrees: “They need to figure out who’s underage in the videos and that there’s consent from everybody in it.”

I asked Leo, 18, who had videos of himself posted on Pornhub when he was 14, what he suggested.

“That’s tough,” he said. “My solution would be to leave porn to professional production companies,” because they require proof of age and consent.

Right now, those companies can’t compete with mostly free sites like Pornhub and XVideos.

“Pornhub has already destroyed the business model for pay sites,” said Stoya, an adult film actress and writer. She, too, thinks all platforms — from YouTube to Pornhub — should require proof of consent to upload videos of private individuals.

Columnists are supposed to offer answers, but I struggle with solutions. If Pornhub curated videos more rigorously, the most offensive material might just move to the dark web or to websites in less regulated countries. Yet at least they would then not be normalized on a mainstream site.

More pressure and less impunity would help. We’re already seeing that limiting Section 230 immunity leads to better self-policing.

And call me a prude, but I don’t see why search engines, banks or credit card companies should bolster a company that monetizes sexual assaults on children or unconscious women. If PayPal can suspend cooperation with Pornhub, so can American Express, Mastercard and Visa.

I don’t see any neat solution. But aside from limiting immunity so that companies are incentivized to behave better, here are three steps that would help: 1.) Allow only verified users to post videos. 2.) Prohibit downloads. 3.) Increase moderation.

These measures wouldn’t kill porn or much bother consumers of it; YouTube thrives without downloads. Siri Dahl, a prominent porn star who does business with Pornhub, told me that my three proposals are “insanely reasonable.”

The world has often been oblivious to child sexual abuse, from the Catholic Church to the Boy Scouts. Too late, we prosecute individuals like Jeffrey Epstein or R. Kelly. But we should also stand up to corporations that systematically exploit children. With Pornhub, we have Jeffrey Epstein times 1,000.

#if you use pornhub you're complicit in this #sorry i don't make the rules

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faeriejukyung · 3 years

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True Beauty’s Gaping Mother Wound

*disclaimer*: I understand that all the listed traits are things which are often very common in Asian households, and it may seem that rather than being concerning, these are just a part of Asian culture. That is why, I feel that it’s necessary for me to make it clear that I am, in fact, Asian (Indian to be specific), and parental abuse is something that is extremely normalized here. As someone who has experienced it firsthand, I want to say that just because something is common/normal, doesn’t necessarily mean that it is correct. If you or anyone you know is in a situation like that, it’s very very important to speak out. And it’s not your fault, i know it’s easier to believe that way but it’s really not. We deserve to be in a loving environment, regardless of what culture we are born in.

Throughout the drama, Jukyung’s mother shows many traits of an abusive mother. I have been able to outline 4 of them. I don’t mean to write her off as an evil character,, because overall she is well intentioned, and just like any other mom, she does love Jukyung. This is shown in episode 8 too, where she shows remorse for her actions. That however, doesn’t justify her abusive behavioral patterns in any way. Because we can see how badly it affects Jukyung, her self esteem and her overall view of herself.

Act 1: “I’m going to kill you today and go to jail” -- Physical Violence.

Throughout the series, we see Jukyung's mother being very violent. But one scene which particularly stood out to me was the scene where she finds out about Jukyung's dad getting scammed. (in episode 1). While it is true that her dad caused a huge financial loss to the family, and anyone would feel angry in a situation like that, it is also true that there is never a good reason to physically abuse someone.

After hearing the news, Jukyung's mom is overcome by anger. It's completely okay to feel frustrated, but the way she violently jumped at her husband, clearly intentioned to hurt him, and the way she needed to be held back by juyoung and heekyung highlights her abusive nature. And this isn't a one time thing where she momentarily lost control of herself. She constantly shows similar behavioural traits throughout the drama.

In the scene where we see Jukyung's mom and dad together properly for the first time, their relationship dynamic is established. He's meekly massaging her shoulders while she orders him around. Their is an obvious power imbalance in the relationship, and the way Jukyung's dad cowers in fear around Jukyung's mom is a proof of that.

Act 2: "Why would you kill my precious son?" -- Conditional Love.

We see examples of Jukyung’s Mom’s conditional love in the kdrama AND in the webtoon. Conditional love is when a parent or a parental figure makes their child compete for love. They withhold their affection until the kid acts in ways that are desirable to them, and if the kid fails to do so, the parent often punishers them through different methods. This is their way of maintaining control over their children.

Jukyung’s Mom’s conditional love manifests itself in the form of favoritism towards her eldest daughter Heekyung, who’s not only conventionally beautiful but also very smart and has a high paying job, and towards her youngest child and only son, Juyoung, who is also written to be very attractive. Both Juyoung and Heekyung have gifts that Jukyung does not posses -- beauty and brains. The conditions that are established in order to attain their mother’s affection are getting good grades at school, and being conventionally attractive, which is why Jukyung often gets the shorter end of the stick

In the scene where we are first meet Heekyung is the drama, their mom’s affection towards her is very evident.

This is shown in the webtoon too.

She displays this favoritism towards Juyoung too, and even more so. In episode 1 where Jukyung tries makeup for the first time, and gets ridiculed by him for doing a bad job at it, she naturally feels angry and yells at him, “do you want to die?!”, but instead of telling Juyoung to stop, their mother yells at Jukyung for yelling at Juyoung (”why would you kill my precious son? why?”). It’s already very evident that Juyoung has picked up the habit of constantly taunting Jukyung for her face from his mom. In the webtoon, when Jukyung decides that she wants to pursue makeup arts and asks for her mom’s support and fees for academy, her mom flat-out refuses, saying that they don’t have enough money. However as we find out later, money wasn’t the problem, because she had enough money to send Juyoung to a cram school for acting.

I find it hard to believe that any good parent would constantly compare their children and pit them against each other like this. In the webtoon and the kdrama, it is made clear that Juyoung doesn’t have particularly good grades either, but he doesn’t have to face his mother’s wrath by the virtue of being good looking. Jukyung on the other hand, does not have any redeeming qualities.

Act 3: “I’m going to throw all your makeup away” --Excessive Anger.

Another sign of parental abuse is display of excessive anger. It’s usually used as an intimidation tactic to keep the child in line. Sometimes, it can simply happen because they lose control of themselves. Either way, parents who get angry more often than what is supposed to be normal, and hurt their children (physically or verbally) in the midst of their anger, repeatedly, are abusive. I feel like I don’t even need to elaborate on this one. Jukyung’s Mom is angry during half of her scenes. And the way she acts upon that anger crosses the limit too. Don’t get me wrong, it’s important to express your the way you feel, but the way Jukyung’s Mom does it, is extremely unhealthy and hurtful to others around her. Whether she’s jumping on Jukyung’s dad or talking down on Im Jukyung, she’s very inconsiderate of how her anger affects others. She almost always expresses herself in an extremely volatile way.

Jukyung described makeup as a hopeful light opening up a new life for her. There’s even a whole music segment of her discovering the powers of makeup, characterized by pastel and bubblegum tones, and the segment has a magical feel to it. Suffice to say that makeup brought an almost magical kind of hope and optimism to her life. In episode 6, Jukyung's Mom goes to her school to get her report card. When she sees her low grades, she gets so angry that she threatens to throw away her makeup, without once considering why Jukyung is so attached to it. In my eyes, she's actually very similar to Soojin's dad who also uses intimidation and physical violence to keep his daughter in line. If we put the same background music for the scenes where we see Jukyung's Mom threatening her, as the ones where Soojin's dad abuses her, they'd practically be identical. The only difference is that the show often plays Jukyung's Mom's behavior as a joke.

In episode 7, after seeing that Jukyung didn't improve as much as she wanted her to, she actually threw away all her makeup. Even though Jukyung did try, and did improve, it still wasn't enough for her mom. Jukyung's restlessness after not seeing her makeup on her table was palpable through the screen. Finding out that her mother threw all her makeup away sort became her breaking point. We see her yell at her mother and express her feelings for the first time.

I think it's important to note that Jukyung, who's already finds it very tough to reach out to her courageous side, was inspired by this incident to stand up to her mom, to express her outrage. Saying that makeup meant a lot to her is an understatement.

Act 4: "What's the point of looking beautiful with all that makeup on if you're ugly underneath?" -- Verbal Abuse.

We all get into arguments with our parents from time to time, and I’m sure we’ve all been yelled at by them at some point. Verbal abuse however, is not something that is normal, and the two shouldn’t be confused. A parent who constantly humiliates their child, yells and screams at them, talks down on them is in simple terms, an abuser.

In episode 1, when Jukyung tries makeup on for the first time and goes to school, she gets ridiculed by her bullies and her classmates. Crestfallen, she returns back home after school and goes to her mother for reassurance. Instead of providing that, her mother ridicules her even more and calls her makeup “Ghost Makeup”. This is something abusers often do. Under the guise of teasing the victim, they often attack the victim’s self esteem, appearance etc, to make them feel insecure and to maintain their position of power over them. Jukyung’s mother isn’t very different from those bullies who told Jukyung that she was ugly and made her feel like she could never amount to anything.

Another example that irks me a lot is from episode 3, when Jukyung’s Mom is chewing her out for being late, and suddenly the conversation turns to cosmetics and makeup. This is also one of the traits of verbal abuse. Instead of arguments surrounding the basic issue, they branch out and turn into character assassination. Her mom accuses Jukyung of wasting all her time on makeup instead of studying, even when Jukyung clarifies that she got late because she missed her bus, not because she was out buying cosmetics. But her mom doesn't listen and says to her, “What’s the point of looking beautiful with all that makeup on when you’re still ugly underneath?”

Jukyung’s face after hearing her own mother say that was heartbreaking. Unfortunately, this type of mother-daughter relationship dynamic isn’t something that is rare. Mothers frequently project their own insecurities on their daughters and put them down. Jukyung’s Mother’s behavior explains her self esteem issues, it gives an insight about where her insecurities really stem from. Sometimes our abuser’s thoughts and image of us start maligning our own self image. Frequently hearing them tell us that we are worthless, and that no one will ever marry us or love us, makes us believe that we are in fact, worthless and incapable of being loved unless we change something about ourselves. We frequently get an insight into how Jukyung thinks of herself throughout the drama.

“It’s not my fault that I was born dumb” (In episode 7, after finding out that her mother threw away her makeup.)

“You know that I’m messed up” (In episode 2, referring to her face, while asking Lee Suho to keep her bare face a secret)

The drama is yet to end so I don’t want to completely write Jukyung’s Mother off as an abuser. I hope she becomes a better mom in the show, I really do. Because Jukyung deserves a loving mother. And Jukyung's mom does in fact have a few redeeming qualities, however, simply love and caring isn’t enough, you need mutual respect, reassurance and effort in each every relationship. We know that Jukyung’s mother is also often labelled as an ugly woman, and she believes that she could only get by through studying well. (“It’s going to be okay as long as you study well” - episode 1). In a world where a woman either has to a exceptionally beautiful to be considered worthy, or be exceptionally intelligent and professional lest she isn’t blessed by beauty, it’s very easy to internalize self hatred and direct it on to other individuals (especially if those individuals are your children). That is why i genuinely find myself rooting for Jukyung’s mother and hoping for a character development arc -- because i understand where she comes from, and because i can empathize with her.

Fin.

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maxdark158 · 3 years

Text

OOOH two chapters in one week??? damn even i’m jealous. of myself. though this also isn’t edited so i might read it tomorrow morning and regret life, soooo

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

The large plant in the street wasn’t promising.

Neither was the very loud scream of pain they heard as they arrived to the scene.

Damian might’ve popped some knuckles when he clenched his fists, he wasn’t fully paying attention. What the ever-loving fucking hell in a fuck was Ivy doing? Harley best not be here too or Damian may strangle both of them for coming near his Angel.

Deep fucking breaths I’m going to fucking lose it-

When they arrived, father signaled a quick “to first two follow” plan and he and Grayson went ahead, leaving Damian and Drake on the roof. Damian itched to jump and move forward. The worry was awful, filling his mind with the most unrealistic of thoughts. He tried to correct them, prove them wrong, but they were overwhelming.

What if I check through her window to make sure she’s in there and oka- he didn’t know which room she had and it would take too long.

What if the scream was hers- It was deeper, male sounding.

What if she was crushed under that plant- She wouldn’t be, right? There wasn’t any evidence of someone being under there-

What if she’s hurt? Afraid? Dying?

He heard yelling. Angry yelling, in a male voice. The constricting worry reminded him of every dangerous male villain in Gotham right now. He went through a list of those currently MIA, those who might’ve yelled. It didn’t make sense, no villain sighting was reported aside from Ivy…

But it was possible.

And the possibility made Damian want to puke.

He had to move he had to do something. He jumped down. It hadn’t been enough time yet but he didn’t care. He heard Drake hiss something in warning about Batman’s orders or something Damian didn’t fucking care about, because he had to see for himself. He had to walk in there and he had to make sure she was okay.

Before he could go in, he saw Ivy walk out through the door. What?! he moved to intercept her before seeing the blood going down her leg- What the fucking fuck happened?! Why was she bleeding?

Ivy raised a brow when she saw him. “I got a pass this time, bird. Might want to help them in there.”

The sick feeling returned. He didn’t want to trust a villain, a criminal… but Ivy wasn’t the most horrible.

He eyed the blood, the worried weeds supplying images of his Angel bleeding in the same way. Ivy was not the worst that could happen… His mind went through that handy list of villains again. Many much worse than Ivy.

Damian turned away from Ivy. Father and Grayson shattered the window the plant hadn’t gone through, he made a motion toward it before Drake grabbed his shoulder.

“Let go of me you-“

“If you’re going to disobey Batman, at least let me go with you,” Drake looked exasperated. “You’re focused on your friend, right? Someone needs to watch your ass then.”

Damian glared before prying Drake’s hand off his shoulder. If he wanted to follow, fine. Damian wouldn’t stop him. He went through the broken window and finally entered the hotel.

The vending machine was unplugged and face down on the ground, glass surrounding it. Ivy’s giant plant was in the middle of the room, steam thicker than the pot it previously inhabited and petals as big as the Batmobile’s tires. Other miscellaneous things were strewn across the room, including cut hair near the elevator.

But what had Damian’s heart pounding was the playing cards. Playing cards that were embedded in the walls and the front desk and the floor. Razor sharp playing cards. A certain villain’s playing cards.

Fucking fucking shit fuck bitch ass fuck-

“Father,” Damian’s voice was surprisingly level as he spoke. His eyes landed on the fucking purple suited clown mother fucker himself. “What is Joker doing here?”

Father however seemed to be answering something Grayson must have said, “It appears she was rescuing…”

Ivy was rescuing.

Ivy was helping.

Damian’s eyes scanned the room right as someone else made themselves known.

Marinette!

The air left his lungs. She looked worse for wear, dark circles under her eyes and blood- fucking hell blood on her person. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Damian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Help her.

He opened his mouth to speak, stepping toward her.

She began to sob.

As if Damian somehow needed to panic even more.

“I’m sorry,” the words were quietly choked out between hics and sobs. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Grayson took a step closer, trying to comfort her. Damian’s feet were stuck to the floor, the words stuck in his mouth, preventing him from doing the same. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Damian inhaled sharply when he saw the bits of glass embedded into her palm – the green haired fuck hurt her.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. Damian bit back the words and he deserved it. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” His father glanced at the vending machine on the ground. Damian didn’t bother trying to decipher his expression, Marinette was turning red and gasping between her sobs. She needed to breathe.

“Miss, please calm down,” Grayson began to step toward her. Damian’s feet finally moved, and he began surging toward her as well.

She fell, nearly hitting her head on the way down. Damian caught her before she could though, barely. Fuck, she needed to breathe like yesterday.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” the words used the last of her breath and were only a whisper.

Panic made his throat feel stuck and his voice thick. “Angel,” Damian spoke as calmly as he could. “You need to breathe.”

She didn’t breathe.

oooOOOooo

Usually, lack of sleep was associated with the coffee obsessed Drake, but it seemed Damian’s own mind was determined to show him what it was like to live like a lunatic. He wasn’t able to sleep even when he tried, though he didn’t try that much either. He’s pretty sure he spent an hour staring at his weedkiller order – an order that somehow got lost in Kentucky – wishing it to suddenly appear at the front gate. Then again after coming home, most of the night was a blur.

He rubbed his eyes and let his thoughts wander through the memories of last night. Or, early morning technically.

Marinette looked delicate and broken on the stretcher as she was loaded into the ambulance. Damian had to turn his head away. He saw Drake and Todd looking at him, but he didn’t want their fucking pity.

She’d be fine.

She had to be.

After Angel had passed out, she began to breathe again. She immediately got medical attention for her injuries, riding in a different ambulance than Joker, who also got medical attention at Arkham. Damian wanted nothing more than to skin him alive as he left, but he avoided doing it for the time being. Barely.

“There’s some of Joker’s laughing shit over here, B-man.”

“Have Red Robin neutralize it. We’ll have to check the tapes and see if anyone was affected.”

“Besides the guy who’s body we found behind the desk, I don’t think anyone else got hit. But good call. Red Robin, over here!”

Drake got the security camera feed and Damian saw the entirety of what happened in the hotel lobby. His Angel fought bravely and intelligently, though he couldn’t say he was a fan of the bitch who left her behind.

“Why did she go for the elevator? I’d hate being stuck in there with the Joker. And she let her classmate just fight?”

“Maybe she called for help once she got away. And even if she didn’t, we can’t judge a teenager for panicking in this situation, Tim. Damian’s friend is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know… too bad the cameras don’t have audio, I wonder what she’s saying before they realize that Joker is there.”

“Are you able to read her lips?”

“Golly jee I wish I fucking thought of that! Thanks for reminding me to read her lips on this old and grainy camera footage where you can barely tell her eyes from her nose!”

“Jesus Replacement, no need to bite my head off.”

Damian looked into it,and found that no calls were made to the police until the plant fell through the window. The calls then were about Ivy appearing, deduced by people nearby who saw the plant. That good for nothing bitch left my Angel with the Joker-

“No calls were made by anyone within the hotel. All the calls were made by people on the street or living nearby who saw the plant.”

“Hmm… Odd…”

“…I’m sorry but how the fuck did someone sleep through a giant ass plant breaking the main floor windows? How?!”

“Maybe it’s a French secret.”

He shook his head. After they got all the information, father decided to send the French children back early and pay for it himself. Damian, internally, knew why. He painted a target on Angel’s back, if she didn’t have one before.

“You realize he heard you, right?”

“What do you want, Todd?”

“Fucks’ sake demon spawn, listen to me. Joker heard you call her Angel.”

“…”

“I was already aware of that. I’ve made plans to have the class moved back in Paris. If it gets around, She’ll be an ocean away and more difficult to harm.”

“Alright, B. Was just trying to warn Demon Spawn.”

“Maybe next time he won’t fuck up.”

“Tim, no need to be harsh.”

“It’s vigilante 101, Bruce. Damian’s been doing this for years.”

“Perhaps instead of being berated for a mistake he didn’t intend, you should let Master Damian retire to his room to rest.”

Damian grumbled to himself, trying to push the intrusive awful worrisome thoughts out of his head. The ones that said maybe going back to Paris wouldn’t be enough to protect her. The ones that said Joker would want revenge, the ones that-

The ones that he wasn’t fucking listening to right now thank you very fucking much!

Damian sighed to himself. He needed some sleep. After handling the news, getting the class handled, and looking into everything involving Joker’s break in at the hotel he was told to get to bed as the sun began rising. It hadn’t really worked, as now a few hours later he was debating stealing some of Drake’s coffee to make it through the day.

Because he did have one very important task to do today. He needed to check on his Angel, and say goodbye to her. He had her number of course, and they could text as often as possible for the two of them, but he still needed to see her. See her and apologize for how horrible this trip must’ve turned out for her.

I’m bad luck, being near me ruined her trip.

Damian went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring that train of thought.

Riddler attacked her when I was there. Joker appeared after I dropped her off. I made her unlucky. I got her hurt.

It’d be easier to ignore that train of thought if it weren’t so fucking loud.

Time felt blurry right now. Probably because he was tired. But soon he was dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses, disguised so he didn’t get mobbed by paparazzi while visiting his Angel in the hotel. He was pulling his shoes on when there was a knock at the door.

“What do you want?” The knocking bounced in his head and made it hurt. Maybe he had a migraine, he wasn’t sure.

“Such a nice way to say good morning Demon Spawn,” Todd strolled in like he fucking owned the place and leaned against the wall next to the door. Damian wondered what it’d be like to have Jon’s laser sight so he could glare at Todd and kill him.

“You didn’t have permission to come in.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Tough shit,” Todd rolled his eyes. “…You… alright?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you asking something like that?”

“Your friend got attacked and is leaving the city because of a target on her back. Which, while I did point out that you called her a petname in front of Joker-“

“It isn’t a petname-“

“-It isn’t your fault.”

The words starkly contrasted Damian’s internal beliefs and he had to blink a few moments to make sure what he heard was real. Because what the fuck? Why would Todd try to convince him his fuck up somehow wasn’t his fucking fault!?

“It’s… not my fault that I stupidly revealed a relationship connection to a civilian in front of one of the worst villains this city has suffered?”

“Okay, that was all you, smartass,” Todd sighed. “but the other shit isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt her, the fucked up clown did. You didn’t put her in danger, her fucking teacher and class did by abandoning her. You’re at fault for your actions, not other people’s, so if you’re blaming yourself then fucking stop. Freckles’d probably get upset if you were using her to hate yourself.”

“What on this planet makes you think I’m doing that?!” Damian’s voice rose in a snap, hypocritically, because he realized as he spoke the words that he… kind of was doing that.

Fucking feelings and fucking worry and fucking weeds in his head were the reason, of course, but he… was… fuck, he’s tired isn’t he?

“I died, Demon Spawn.” Damian raised a brow at Todd, waiting for the halfwit to continue. “Bruce and I… aren’t on the best of terms, but I did realize he… he did that. Where what Joker did was his fault. I’m not happy the fucker is still alive, but that doesn’t mean Bruce was the one who killed me. No that was all Joker.”

“What does that have to do with anything again?” Damian really just wanted Todd out of his room and not talking about things in the past. He totally understood his point and everything, but it wasn’t anything a gallon sized bottle of weedkiller wouldn’t fix.

“Wow, you must be really tired, damn,” the fucker smirked before his expression changed into something less asshole-ish. “I’m saying that if you’re blaming yourself for what the Joker did to Freckles, stop it. The fucker lost a leg and she’s on her way to the hotel from the hospital now.”

Wait.

Wait what?

“Wait what?!” Damian wasn’t even sure which one he was reacting to – the news that Angel was okay or the news that the Joker was permanently damaged.

Angel’s self defense might’ve permanently helped Gotham?!

Okay maybe he knew what he was reacting to.

Todd turned to leave like a fucking dickhead and Damian could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked away. “Check the news for the Joker thing and ask Alfred to take you to Freckles in like an hour.”

Damian was smart enough to realize that not checking out of spite for Todd would only disadvantage himself.

He still only checked a couple minutes later though. After glaring at his phone willing himself to somehow know without checking.

He needing headache pills.

oooOOOooo

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arties. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

oooOOOooo

Damian had snuck through the lobby up to his Angel’s room. Some of her classmates were downstairs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them, not caring at the moment.

The last memory he had of her was the blood on her hands and tears in her eyes before she fell to the floor. He wanted to change that, wanted to maybe even see if he could get her to smile. Though that felt ambitious…

He just… needed to make sure she was okay.

Damian knocked on Marinette’s hotel room door.

#daminette #maribat #damimari #maridami #marinettexdamian #damian x marinette #Damian Wayne #Marinette #joker #joker mention #he's pretty quiet in this POV #the badassness is in AiG #rip mari's health #in a week alfred be like master wayne #why is there a delivery for weedkiller in your name #damian takes it from his hands #and chugs

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chibivesicle · 3 years

Text

Golden Kamuy - Kikuta really deserved better [part 2] 277-279.

Can you tell by my title that I’m a fan of Kikuta and I have some choice words for Noda? Chapter 277 starts out with an introduction to the regional politics of Meiji era Japan. The entire political shift occurred with the marriage of convenience between Choushuu and Satsuma (the Sat-Chou alliance) and how that is playing out in government and the military. With Hanazawa on the Satsuma side a commanding officer is having Tsurumi deal with the damage control. That being Lt. General Okuda (and Kikuta’s boss)

He discloses how he’s the person who helped to cover up the scandal for Hanazawa and more of the regional politics comes into play as he pulls Tsurumi into this.

Recall that Tsurumi is from Niigata and we know he is from a family that lost power and wealth due to political changes. He assumes that of course Tsurumi would hold a grudge towards those from the Sat-Chou alliance. Usami is also from a fallen samurai family in Niigata and we know that Ogata is from Ibaraki and also from a samurai family on the losing side. Tsukishima is from the island of Sado where unwanted people were dumped in Niigata so he is also an outsider. We learn of his ‘true’ feelings as the tells his core group his opinion on things.

I love how we get unhinged Tsurumi calling it all a farce and he’s over Central. But most importantly Okuda confirmed his own intel about the gold he learned while in Russia at some point in time. His gold plan can slowly move along. So Tsurumi becomes in the Hanazawa scandal cover up looking for the young 2nd Lt. and Kikuta, working under Okuda’s direct orders.

Despite his best efforts, Kikuta’s plan is revealed by a secretary at the Military Academy, while we know that Sugimoto and Kikuta are en route to the engagement dinner.

Hanazawa panics and sprints out to determine what is happening. Right on his tail is Tsurumi and his key team of Ogata, Tsukishima and Usami. Clearly this is going to become a huge mess. The next few pages are amusing, but really don’t add value to the plot. I am impressed that Kaeko has an excellent plot to get Sugimoto naked and I commend her efforts! GK is never short of strong female characters. Who enjoy sex.

This sets up a hilarious moment where he’s naked and trapped in a bedroom while she leverages the potential scandal to her advantage. By that point Tsurumi has caught up to them. What is most interesting is when Usami addresses Ogata as Hyakunnosuke and asks him what he thinks about meeting his brother. It is clear this isn’t out of concern from Usami’s part, we know he hates Ogata to his very core.

But as usual, Ogata doesn’t respond and we just see only a part of his eyes, not even a glance of his lips to give us an idea of what he’s thinking.

Kaeko and Sugimoto continue to talk as she reveals what she knows from Hanazawa Hiro. She had been a nurse during the first Sino-Japanese war so it has allowed her to reflect on the impact of war on individual soliders.

This tells us a few things; Hiro’s patriotism is more nuanced. If she were being selfish and just saying she doesn’t want her son to go off to war without experience it, that would be one thing. Instead, she knows being a military spouse first hand what happens - no one could say she didn’t do her own duty and go likely above and beyond. Ultimately, she wants to protect her son from her own experiences and observations and be a mother.

Sugimoto then realizes he needs to bail and leaves poor Kikuta confused. And then bam! The 27th is there.

Of course this leads to the most Sugimoto situation of all time! Tsurumi threatens Kaeko with his handgun and Ogata asks where Yuusaku is. Of course Sugimoto flies out of the bathroom naked sans Kikuta’s hat and Ogata is just amused beyond belief.

This would be complete if he were relaxed eating a box of popcorn or something like that. 278 continues this absolute chaos and lots of fan service for Miss Kaeko! I really don’t think the fight scene needs much meta. Ogata just finds it amusing (and btw sucks at hand to hand combat) while Usami rumbles with Sugimoto. Tsurumi realizes he’s not Yuusaku and Kikuta rushes in and gets shot in the shoulder by Tsukishima.

Somehow, Kikuta is able to get the rest of them to flee but not without running into the actual Hanazawa Yuusaku. Awkward. Tsurumi only then realizes that Kikuta was doing his job and they run out into the street.

Kaeko tries her best to convince Sugimoto to marry her. Granted he is a very heroic figure and he fought to protect her. However, reality wouldn’t allow that to happen and Sugimoto decides to join the army - thinking he won’t starve that way.

Kikuta looks so sad and disappointed when he hears this.

He’s definitely thinking of his younger brother who died b/c he told him to join the army with him. I loved the fact that we learn that Kaeko got to be a successful woman who was also compassionate to others.

There is a quick exchange that shows the first encounter between Ogata and Yuusaku. Yuusaku notices Ogata and salutes him as a cadet.

Ogata doesn’t even return the salute and he look he gives him out of the corner of his eyes. What is he thinking? I’d say Yuusaku doesn’t know who Ogata even is. But something has him very suspicious to be this leery of him. This also makes me think of this previous encounter between Koito and Ogata in chapter 200.

This time Ogata is bolder when he walks by Koito who is also currently still in the Army Academy. Except unlike Yuusaku who doesn’t seem to pick up on Ogata’s vibes, Koito does! And the two of them stare each other down. I think that this in part shows that Koito has more innate awareness of things and could be considered more of a ‘natural’ in the military. Which Yuusaku isn’t. We have no evidence Yuusaku has any sort of military talent or skills.

The chapter ends with Kikuta asking Sugimoto if he’s serious about joining the military and how he’s already fated to go to hell based on what he’s done in his life. 279 continues the conversation between Kikuta and Sugimoto and he flat out tells Sugimoto about how his brother died of illness in the army during the Sino-Japanese war.

Sugimoto then becomes Kikuta’s younger brother telling him that it is time to move on. This continues the trend in GK where a character that is speaking becomes someone else to the listener.

This is most evident with Asirpa when she becomes Yuusaku on more than one occasion to Ogata.

But this facial expression from Kikuta [sobs].

No wonder Kikuta worked so hard to save Ariko’s life! He can’t just always be responsible for the deaths of others.

Sugimoto convinces Kikuta that he’ll be alright in the army and he relents and lets him keep the cap. This shows that Kikuta has moved on from the death of his brother - a big deal! In an unusual way, Sugimoto has helped Kikuta move on and take the next step in the healing process. Kikuta reports to his commander in the 1st. Okuda wants him to keep an eye on Tsurumi. Obviously, he knows now that Tsurumi interfered with Kikuta’s plans for Hanazawa rather heavy-handedly so he would need someone else to balance it out.

It then reveals that Ogata is also working for Okuda in the 1st. This explains why when the two of them crossed paths in the brewery they did not engage but nor did they appear to exchange any information.

I can’t help but feel like something is still off with this. Ogata does have skills from working in intelligence with Tsurumi. He’s observant, makes himself invisible and can get others to talk easily. But Ogata being a 100% willing spy - it seems like he wants something else out of this. Kikuta’s character screams secret agent - but Ogata, he’s something else. I’m not sure if Ogata’s choice to be a spy on Tsurumi was a real choice.

When Ogata and Tsukishima had their shoot out in Yubari at Edogai’s, Tsukishima told him he was a pet cat for Central. Ogata replied that they were part of a rebel element. We know that Ogata was working with Tamai at the beginning of the manga. I struggle to see how Ogata has loyalty to anyone honestly. He seems to be moving throughout this game with again his own mysterious objective. Ogata is cynical and has no belief in the nation state nor does he harbor any sort of deep patriotism towards Imperial Japan.

Since Okuda is friends with Hanazawa and is based in Tokyo, he may have known Ogata since his birth and has kept tabs on him after the Ogata grandparents took him back to Ibaraki with his mom. Ogata’s existence might be a sort of trump card that Okuda is keeping . . . but others found out as well like Tsurumi. Did Okuda have Ogata tell or leak information that Ogata is Hanazawa’s first son? The chapter jumps to the 203 meter hill in the war and we see Yuusaku fallen on the battlefield. Ogata watches from distance, his face cut off while other members of the 27th run out to help Yuusaku.

This finally reveals Yuusaku’s eyes! Not the anticipated reveal - I kept thinking this was something that Ogata was going to see but it shows us clear eyes. Which look sort of similar to Asirpa’s eyes.

So many thoughts are jumping around in my brain about this reveal.

1.) These eyes are not the ‘trademark’ Hanazawa eyes. Dark black orbs with those eyebrows! This indicates his eyes aren’t from his father.

Seeing this, I can’t help but think that Yuusaku is not Hanazawa’s son. Instead, Hiro had an affair with someone else. A major theme in GK is that the children inherit the skills of their parents. Asirpa is able to do many things as she inherited the intelligence of Wilk. And that Ogata is the true inheritor of Hanazawa’s military skills.

Recall this from chapter 58. Ogata leads the crappy local gang against Hijikata and acts like a commander.

We know that Tsurumi’s lie about Ogata wanting to avenge Hanazawa is to keep Nikaido in the dark.

This would also explain why everything we learn about Yuusaku is terrible at military things. If he also isn’t Hanazawa’s son it would make it even more reason for Hiro to try to prevent him from entering the military since he’s not even genetically related to this great line of Hanazawas. I wish we knew more about the Ogata side of things - I think we’ll also learn that the Ogata side had competent military men on it as well. 2.) Yuusaku’s eyes are the same as Asirpa’s and indicate their sort of innocence. In this case, it would perfectly explain why Ogata sees Yuusaku instead of Asirpa when he has the fever and then the melt down on the ice floe. Yuusaku kept himself naive and innocent to meet his father’s expectations. A man who I don’t think is even his father at this moment. Therefore, Ogata’s guilt on killing Yuusaku is tied to his sort of innocence in these situations and why he can’t seem to shake his mental confusion when it comes to Asirpa. However, unlike Yuusaku, Asirpa has never forced herself on him to do things or guilt tripped him so it leaves things open for him to not link her to Yuusaku.

3.) Yuusaku was going to blow Ogata’s cover working for Okuda. Now that we know that Ogata was working for Okuda while in the 27th it means he’d have to keep his role quiet. If Yuusaku found out that Ogata was working for Okuda, I could see him going to Tsurumi and telling him this information. Therefore, to protect his status, Ogata used this as his rationale to kill Yuusaku on the battle field. I have never figured out if Ogata was nudged to kill Tsurumi by his ‘don’t kill him right now.’ comment as one of Tsurumi’s backwards motivations that lead Ogata to directly killing him. So many possibilities! I want more Ogata backstory dammit!

Anyhoo, to not make this meta super long let’s get back to the action. Asirpa begins working out how to try to break the code. Hijikata notes that Wilk could have used something other than kanji, since he’d know the Latin alphabet for Polish and Cyrillic for Russian. Shiraishi makes a clear point that this could be a message from Wilk towards her, though it feels like he’s channeling Kiro. Out of many of the Japanese characters Shiraishi time and time again comes out much more sympathetic to the minorities than others.

Asirpa begins to wonder how the coin is linked to the skins. She’s thinking things through and is on her way to solving the puzzle.

After saving Ariko, Kikuta is returning to Tsurumi’s group in the church. Oh Roger, this is why I love you so much.

Look at that smirk with a slightly watery eye. At the same time Tsurumi is also looking at the coin and realizes he’s figured it out.

Kikuta approaches the rest of the group and comments on if he’s found the location. Tsurumi states that things are just getting started. He casually pulls out his gun and fires two shots into Kikuta at point blank range.

And with this I am deeply saddened and shocked. How dare you do that to Kikuta!!! He was my Kiro replacement and now he’s also going to die.

First Boutarou died and now Kikuta. [cries]. We know that Tsurumi is a shinigami but this is just brutal. The bear death trio died early on in the manga. Ogata escaped. Kikuta now is the next link to Central that goes down.

#golden kamuy #Golden Kamuy manga #golden kamuy meta #warrant officer kikuta #sugimoto saichi #asirpa #tsurumi tokushirou #Usami Tokishige #Hanazawa Yuusaku #Hanazawa Hiro #hanazawakoujiro #koito otonoshin #okuda #ogata hyakunosuke #tsukishima hajime #wilk #hijikata toshizo #Kaneko Kaeko #okuda hidenobu

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catxsnow · 3 years

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AFTER HOURS chapter two

Summary: Enemies to the public, friends to their close ones, friends with benefits between them. Rival companies and an attraction that can’t be ignored.

Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: swearing, mature content, smut, 18+ only, mention death of parents, car crash mentions.

A/N: Chapter twooooooo it shall be getting more interesting next chapter😏

Word Count: 3.6k

It seemed that her life seemed revolve around business meetings. Nine in the morning, another at eleven, two at noon but there was no way to attend both, a final one at three. Meeting after meeting, and for what? To hear the same things over and over again? Some people choose to do this for the rest of their lives.

There was something about the busy Gotham streets that always caught her attention. Maybe it was the sound of the horns, or the people yelling within their cars. Gun shots or screams. There was always something to distract her from whatever meeting she was forced to listen to. Maybe it was because she didn't want to listen to it at all.

Of course, running this company was important. Without her parents, she had to take control of it. It was an important company too, just along side WE, they worked to make Gotham, and the world a better place. That didn't mean that she wanted to here about the statistical analysis of it all.

Not to mention that the weight of her parent's anniversary was heavy in her mind. Four years since they had been gone, four years of blaming herself. They went to Gotham to visit her, if they had just stayed home, they would still be home. Car accidents happen all the time, but that didn't make it any easier.

The second that the final meeting was over, she couldn't seem to get out of that room fast enough. She just wanted to be in the privacy of her own office. The door nearly slammed shut as she closed it. Back against the wall, heavy breathing as she tried to hold herself together. It was always hard on that day of the year.

A bright bouquet of flowers was on her desk. With a shaky breath, she headed over to see who they were from. It wasn't rare for her to receive flowers. Gotham's greatest bachelorette - more like people wanted her for sex and money. Without that company, she wouldn't have been idolized like that.

The bouquet was grand: flowers of every color and kind poked out from it. Whoever this was, they had spent a lot of money on it. (Y/N) picked up the small card and read what it said.

For your parents. I know days like these aren't easy, I'm sorry. - T.D.

"Those are pretty."

"Ms. Vale," her jaw clenched at the sound of the voice behind here. Great, this was the last thing that she needed to deal with today. Vicki Vale had a tendency to show up on her worst days. "What do I owe the pleasure of today and who let you into my office?"

"I let myself in," she said. Vicki Vale stood tall and proud. She had a large purse over her shoulder which surely held a plethora of notebooks and pens. Always ready to catch a story and always eager to stir up drama within the city. "Hope you don't mind. Just wanted to ask you a few questions about this new business deal that you're about to make. But, now I'm curious about the flowers, who're they from?"

"Why don't you tell me?" She sat in her chair as Vicky sat in the one across from her. "You do enjoy making headlines about me and my, as you say 'promiscuous life'." There had been many titles about (Y/N) - between her risky clothing, the second that she were talking with a man outside of business, or her attempts for normal dates - she was there.

Vicki casually reached her perfectly manicured finger tips towards the card from the flowers. Before she could even come near, (Y/N)'s palm slammed down on the desk. She pulled the card towards herself and out of the reach of Vicki. The last thing she needed was for the reporter to put two and two together to realize T.D. was Tim Drake-Wayne.

"Another hopeless lover of yours?" She raised an eyebrow. There was no answer. "I just wanted to ask you what you thought about Wayne Enterprise's attempt to stop the progress of your new development? Mr. Drake - sorry, Mr. Wayne, had lots to say on the matter, I hope you do as well."

"As a matter of fact, I don't." WE's attempt to stop the development was futile. Even Tim had told her that. There was no reason for them to try and stop it when in the end it would benefit both companies. They just wanted their name on it rather than hers. Everyone in both companies knew that.

It was for namesake that there was disagreements about the development. She was lucky enough to have beaten Tim to it first. This was going to a be a massive break for the company, one that would sky rocket sales and put you neck and neck with Wayne Enterprises once again.

"Mr. Wayne is your biggest competitor, aren't you worried?" She continued to pry. (Y/N) had gotten skilled over the years of not letting the curiosity of others get to her. She was able to keep her face straight and her mouth shut - even when she had lots she wanted to say.

"Mr. Wayne has always, and will always be my biggest competitor. Unfortunately for him, I was the one to give the statement first about this new addition to the city. I will become Gotham's biggest economic resources, just as I have always tried to do in the past - and just as Mr. Wayne has always done in the past."

"So, you're saying that you public enemies?" Vicki pressed. She had always known about (Y/N)'s vendetta against the WE, but there had never been a statement that she tried to take the company down so hers could thrive. That was never her intention, they could co-exist always.

"I'm saying, Ms. Vale, that Timothy Drake-Wayne is a smart man. He knows when to push through fights, and he knows when he is losing. This time, he's lost. The next time, I won't be so lucky. Those who are fighting for the same cost are never enemies," she firmly stated.

"Will you be attending the Wayne Gala?" Vicki continued. Of course, there always had to be questions that weren't related to the company. She wanted anything to see (Y/N) with a man, just to make a headline for the decade. In all these years, not once had she been caught in the dating scene.

"No. I've made a donation, but I will not be attending," She answered. The tag from the flowers seemed to burn the skin of her hands. Tim sent those flowers because he worried, not because he wished to impress her. "Don't you have some better reporting to do rather than finding strings to cling onto of my personal life, Ms. Vale?"

"That'll be all for today."

Tim's bouquet of flowers felt heavy in her hands. The weight of having to visit her parent's graves was always a hard task to do alone. As time passed, it seemed easier to go visit them. Years of working hard to make them proud, years of showing them how much the business they started thrived.

There was nothing more that she wanted than to make them proud. Even as a child - working hard in school, playing sports, everything that would have brought a smile to their faces. In death, it felt like she needed to work even harder. Then again, as time passed, she forgot the sound of their voices, the crinkle by their eyes as they smiled, she forgot the warmth of their hugs.

As time passed, she forgot that she could be happy.

Work consumed her in the past four years. Late nights at the office, early mornings, weekends even. She lost friends, disconnected from family, deterred everyone away. Running this company had changed her life, and not necessarily for the better. The responsibility of it all was almost too much to handle on her own.

"Mr. Wayne's son bought these for you," she spoke to her parents graves. Tim's flowers sat on the grass, bringing some brightness to that gloomy day. "Surprising, I know. He's very kind, I think you guys would like him if he wasn't running Wayne Enterprises. At this point though I think you would like any man that I talked to.

"I miss you both, a lot. I'm securing a new development in the company, it's really going to pull us ahead this time. Dad would have thought it would have been a risky move, but I did it. I beat them for once. I hope you guys are proud of me up there, I'm really trying to make this city a better place in your name.

"Happy anniversary mom and dad, I love you," she sighed once more before heading back to her car. The walk back seemed long. Her shoulders hung low and she furiously wiped away the hot tears that threatened to spill down her eyes.

To her surprise, Tim was there, leaning against his own car right next to hers. He was reading something on his phone, but as he heard her footsteps, he looked up. "Mr. Wayne, thank you for those flowers, they were beautiful. What are you doing here?"

It wasn't often that they met up in public without there being some sort of business meeting along with it. Tim shoved his phone in his pocket and gave her a smile filled with sympathy. To be honest, he was visiting his own parents. Their chat the previous night had edged him to go visit their graves.

It just happened to be lucky timing that she was there as well. Tim didn't want to disturb her, but he did wish to speak to her. He always wished to talk with her - not just about business. He liked being with her, she was refreshing in his life of darkness. Without evening knowing much about it, it seemed she understood him more than anyone.

"I was in the area," Tim vaguely answered. He knew that he could tell her that he was visiting his parents just like she were but he felt deterred from doing so. Besides, upon seeing the redness in her eyes, he didn't want to worry about anything besides her. She had been crying, it was evident for someone like him. "I'm glad you liked the flowers, they used to be mother's favourites."

"They stirred up quite the fuss with Vicki Vale today," she tried to joke. Tim rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. He wasn't her biggest fan, in fact he was far from it. Vicki had single-handedly meddled into his life and forced him to live an entire year with a fake spinal injury and crutches. He had gotten off of them just before meeting (Y/N).

"She came to see you too, huh?" Tim shuddered at their meeting that afternoon. Question after question about his involvement with Ms. (L/N). Vicki was sure that there was something going on between the two of them - and for once she was right. "The new development or your latest hot date?"

"Considering my latest hot date is non-existent, it was the development. But, she was pretty eager for me to say something about you," She half-smiled. Tim shook his head, of course. Vicki was always trying to start a turf war or make the two of them fall in love. "I know you just came over last night... but I could really use a distraction from today."

A distraction. That seemed that was all he was to her. Nothing more than something to get her mind of the life she was thrown into. Of course, that was what it was all about at the start. Fucking to forget. He knew it, he went into their benefit relationship knowing it but as time grew...

"There's nothing wrong with taking a break from work," Tim changed the subject a little too quickly. In the four years he had known her, she had aged. Worried creases were around her eyes and scattered on her forehead. Dark circles always under her eyes. It worried him. "I'm not saying leave or anything, but you can have fun every once in a while. It's a Friday night, why not go to the bar with your friends? Let loose and live a little."

Tim was right. She wasn't the young eighteen year old anymore that would have been chastised for having a drink. It was legal for her to go out and have fun, maybe tonight was the kind of night that she deserved. Her parents wouldn't want her to sulk over their deaths, they would have wanted her to live her best life.

Going out was exactly what she needed. Not a distraction, not something that would keep her mind busy for a couple hours just to fall back in her pit of despair. She needed a genuine change in her life, and maybe that started with connecting with old friends and making some new ones.

As no words came out of her mouth, Tim took the time to realize that it was his moment to leave. She was obviously deep in thought with his words. He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it before getting into his car. "I hate when you call me Mr. Wayne," he told her.

It was true, not only did it make him feel old, but it also made him feel like they didn't know each other at all. That was far from the truth, they both were far closer to each other than they would like to admit. Tim knew of her desire to keep their relationship business - and emotionless sex. They were after all, public enemies.

For the first time in years she woke up with a hangover. Pounding head, upset stomach - it was a feeling that she didn't miss. It wasn't rare for her to sleep naked in her own home, but it was to feel a heavy arm across her waist. Dark hair, muscular back - for a second she swore it to be Tim, but this man wasn't nearly as broad as he was.

Aside from the thumping in her head, memories of what happened the night before started to resurface. She had taken Tim's advice and called up her friends to go get a drink. One drink turned to two, which turned to shots and getting plastered. It had been so long since she had seen them all that letting loose was almost too easy.

She knew that she shouldn't have gotten that drunk, but having fun like that for the first time since she started working at that company was exhilarating. Unlike she had thought - her friends accepted her right back in. They knew that she was under a lot of pressure and that making time wasn't easy. They were just thankful for that night.

So, with a small reunion at the front of the bar, they headed in and got hammered. She treated her friends round after round - partially because she easily could and partially for an apology. It didn't take long for them to become a laughing mess while catching up and remembering the old days.

By the time the night was coming to an end, her friend pointed out the man that had been eyeing her up for hours. Whether it was the alcohol, the need to continue her good night, or to show her friends that she was just as fun as ever, she went to the man. Minutes later, they were walking out of the club and into a taxi.

Now, he was asleep in her bed and she had no idea whether or not anyone outside of her friend group knew what had happened. The man stirred. He pulled himself closer towards her as he woke. Warm brown eyes met hers, a genuine smile. What was his name? Jacob.

"Good morning beautiful," his voice was hoarse, sexy. Her mind raced between the option of soaking up some more moments of fun or getting back to her usual self and kicking him out. She went with the first one as he glided his hands along the curves of her side before placing his hand at her jaw.

It made her falter. This man... as good looking and as sexy as he was, he wasn't Tim. He didn't please her like Tim did. He didn't make her feel as good as Tim did. Even the sound of his voice didn't bring her the same amount of excitement. Why did she feel like she betrayed him? They were allowed to sleep with who they wanted.

She pushed away the feeling. Tim was the one to tell her to go out and have fun. Let loose from the burden of running a company and just the kid that she was. Sleeping with men, getting drunk, that was all part of her teen years that she missed out on. Tim wanted her to have this.

"Coffee?" She asked. Maybe that would stop the ridiculous headache she had. Or maybe she was using it as an excuse to get out of bed with him. Jacob nodded. He pulled her in for a long kiss, lingering against her for just a moment too long. The two of them grabbed whatever scattered clothes they could before going to her kitchen.

As the smell of coffee beans filled the air, she checked her phone for the first time that morning. Unlike the endless abundance of emails that she had gotten - there was a plethora of missed calls and texts. This was far from usual. Her eyebrows furrowed as she opened up the one from her closet advisor.

A picture of her and Jacob leaving the club, pictures of them kissing, her taking shots and drinking with her friends. Is she really mature enough to run this company? Black bold letters stared back at her. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid. The media had taken her one night of fun and turned the city against her.

"Fuck," she breathed out.

"What's wrong?" Jacob asked. Genuine concern was in his eyes for why she was suddenly upset. She was frozen in her spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen. Jacob stood behind her, hands on her shoulders as he glanced over the article itself. "Oh." He never assumed that the media would do this.

In the bar, he knew who she was. Everyone in Gotham knew who she was, however he never expected her to be that beautiful in person. His friends had been hyping him up all night to go talk to her, but he knew it would never be a success. So, when she came to him, he couldn't say no.

Now, he worried that in one fowl swoop, he had tainted everything that she had worked so hard for.

"I think you should go," she told him, not trying to be rude. This wasn't his fault, none of this was. It was her fault for agreeing to her friends to go after him, it was her fault for agreeing to Tim's idea. Tim. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't offered. Was this a ploy to get her company to fall so he could come out on top?

"I know it doesn't really mean much from someone like me, but... No matter what Gotham has to say about you, I think you’re the only one keeping this city somewhat sane," Jacob told her. He genuinely thought her to be a good person - not just some chick with a nice ass and easy access. There were people in Gotham that wanted to see her succeed, regardless of her age.

It was a hard idea to get through her head - people believing in her for her brain, not her body. So many articles, just like the one she read this morning, forced her to a life that made her weary of trusting people. She wanted to be seen as powerful, influential - not as a little girl who ran around sleeping with people.

"Thank you," she smiled. "If it means anything, I did have a great time last night." Jacob chuckled, but agreed. He waved a final time and left her home. Reluctantly, she went through the rest of the texts that she had gotten over the night. All of them were the same - reminding her that she was still an immature kid.

The board of directors, her friends, advisors - everyone seemed to have seen it before she had. It was the text from Tim that stood out to her the most. I see you took my advise, hope you had fun last night. Don't worry to much about the paps.

Don't worry? Don't worry? The great Tim Wayne had nothing to worry about, ever. Her on the other hand? She was constantly under scrutiny. In the eyes of society, Tim was the perfect candidate to take over WE. He was smart, cunning, he had a way with the people. It seemed that there was never anything bad for someone to say about him.

Her life on the other hand? She fell under Gotham's microscope and was picked apart until there was nothing left beside the mistakes she had made. This was another mistake, another mishap that would push her back and make her fall under the hand of Wayne Enterprises. The same man that tried to convince her that this was the best thing that she could do for herself.

This was Tim's fault, and she was furious.

@julia-and-comics @unknowntoanyone @willieoo @kindashittywriter @subtleappreciation @yandereforyou @pricetagofficial @because-icanhide @magicisabluewish @hyp-oh-critical @littleredwing89 @boy-georgina @sparkleofpizza @craptainlou @timtimmersdrake @hauntingsonofrobin @anothertimdrakestan @idkmanicantenglish @vvipgot7be

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake smut #Tim drake fanficition #tim drake fic #tim drake x fem!reader #red robin #red robin imagine #dc imagine #dc #after hours #tim drake series #smut

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ciggylungz · 4 years

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Rivals

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them? 2.2k

It’s no secret that growing up with a workaholic parent is hard for a kid, but for Y/n it was amplified due to the fact both her parents owned one of the most famous fashion companies in the world. This meant during most of her childhood she relied on nannies, private drivers, maids and child minders to care for her in absence of her busy working parents.

Of course having absent parents gave her some perks during her teen years, the ability to throw ragers in the absurdly large mansion they’d bought for the three of them –(well, they were hardly in it so mainly just their daughter)- not having to worry about getting caught when she decided to bring people over to get a quick shag in and the plus of having no one to bother her during her angsty middle school years. Those things were nice, yet you really can’t replace the role of your parents with teenage hookups and parties.

If there’s one thing that she absolutely hated about her parents work, it would be their former business partners cunt of a son. Harry Styles. Y/n had been forced to be in the twats life since they were 10 and his father joined stocks in her parents company before investing fully and becoming business partners. For Y/n that meant being forced to be around their son whenever their parents were too busy crushing numbers or out on boozy business trips clogging their noses with high end coke and buying out their competitors.

Harry was always a good-looking boy, and that only made things worse because he was a total prick. He was arrogant, annoying and always got away with being the biggest pain in the ass y/n has ever experienced in her life. He was insanely competitive, cocky and always found a way to weasel into Y/n’s business just to push her buttons. One’s he knew how to push perfectly to make her want to pound his head off a blacktop.

It was almost as if when it came to Y/n he never matured past being a 12-year-old boy, and now he’s a 23 year old powerful business man who still can’t manage to leave her alone.

Y/n had inherited her parents’ company when they decided to retire, two years before the retirement her parents and Harrys father had severed their ties and he’d gone back to his independent company. And just y/n’s luck, the man passed his roll as CEO down to his son, making the two young adults’ owners of two of the most famous fashion and beauty companies to ever exist.

Make no mistake, Y/n was a strong, independent and ruthless business woman so Harry’s subsequent inheritance didn’t threaten her in a business sense it more so made her worried for her blood pressure since the man couldn’t help but come bother her every chance he got. It didn’t help his dad had a single remaining stock left in the shoe portion of their clothing company giving Harry the perfect excuse to come barging into Y/n’s office to get on her nerves. To Y/n Harrys like a cold sore that won’t go away, just keeps coming back every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it.

___

Today was a busy day for Y/n, she had a meeting with her team that worked closely with her managing profit, stock, inventory, sales and all that stuff. Her team was large, with a company with over two thousand distributors worldwide and thirty-five exclusive stores scattered around the globe that’s to be expected. All in all, Y/n was responsible for making sure all one hundred and fifty thousand employees were running a smooth ship and every participating party was doing what they needed to do. It was a stressful job no doubt, but she never backed down from the challenge.

The meetings were always her least favorite part of her job. All the paper work that had to be read, numbers calculated, sales charted and any complaints or incident reports all had to be verbalized and talked about in detail with documentation of all the important things said as well as much more. Today the meeting took a grueling four and a half hours and the day was far from over.

Once she got out of her meeting it was nearing noon, she had to push her lunch off to phone the companies attorneys because one worker was trying to do a fake insurance claim. The man faked a work accident failing to remember every warehouse and factory was littered with security cameras that caught him in the act, so she had to inform them of the situation so they could sort it out. After that she got sucked into looking at new designs her design team had come up with for the next season, explaining that Chanel and Gucci both wanted to work with them to carry a few exclusive items only for that season.

Finally, at half passed two she made it back to her office, sitting down in her desk chair while taking her hair out of the headache inducing ponytail it had been in since she got there at five that morning. She opened her laptop, planning to send off some emails while she put in her order for lunch to her assistant, getting as much done as she could in the little bit of private time she was able to snag.

A knock sounded at the door, she knew it was Morgan coming in with the food she ordered so she didn’t bother to look up from what she was doing very drawn in to the email she was currently formatting. Only her attention was quickly severed when his voice rang out instead of the one she expected.

“I believe you ordered the chop salad, diet coke and fruit for lunch misses Yln.”

That annoying, cocky voice. You can hear his shit eating grin and teasing eyes simply in his tone, you don’t even have to look up at the jerk.

A prolonged sigh blew out of her lips, a grunt of annoyance following as she looked up at him. He looked nice, as always, she added bitterly in her own mind. She hated the fact someone so goddamn irritating was so undeniably attractive. He wore a dark blue suit, white button up with a black tie and yellow accent pocket square. Yet his fashion and handsomeness seemed a bit overshadowed by his personality that had the same affect on the woman as nails on a chalkboard.

“Harry, to what do I owe the displeasure?” Y/n reached her arm across the desk to snatch the paper bag from his ring clad hands, a sarcastic disapproving finger was pointed at her yet she didn’t take his bait opting to give him the death stare instead.

“Sassy today are we?” The man rested himself on the small leather loveseat that was in her office, propping his head on a throw pillow and putting his feet on the armrest. “You act like you’re not happy to see me, I know yeh missed me.” Y/n rolled her eyes, digging her fork into the salad aggressively. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been happy to see you, and I’m certain no one has ever missed your presence either.”

Harry chuckled slightly, loving how easily he could annoy the girl. Over the past thirteen years he’s learned just how to get under her skin, and he enjoyed doing so.

“Bit feisty today aren’t yeh Y/n? playing hard to get I see.” The man folded his hands on top of his chest, completely relaxing into the comfortable furniture, making himself comfortable for the undetermined amount of time he’d be spending there irritating his childhood ‘friend’.

The difference between Harry and Y/n’s perspectives on their rather odd ‘relationship’, if you could really call it that is Harry never hated Y/n. In fact he was always quite fond of her, he enjoys her company even when he’s forcing it on her and using the shared time to annoy the ever loving shit out of her. He and the woman have always been competitive growing up. In sports, card games, classes, and now business and Y/n took things a lot more seriously then he did. she was always wound a bit tight, she gets it from her mother.

Harry and Y/n had an interesting past. They have a love-hate relationship, seeing as even through the perpetual animosity they’ve carried since they were kids they did have their good moments too. And though Y/n would never admit it, there’s a part of her that does actually care about him even if she loathes that part of her deeply. In their teens they were at each other throats a lot, but in between that they would occasionally have their good days where they would refrain from getting into screaming matches and instead would be able to tolerate being together. Y/n chooses to describe it as tolerating him since she’d never admit she sometimes enjoys his company.

Through their formative years whenever Y/n was throwing a party, she wouldn’t protest when her friends would invite Harry as well. Pretending like she didn’t know he was coming and didn’t want him there when she saw him in the crowd, yet he always had a feeling she was anticipating and secretly wanted him to make an appearance. When he’d plan some sort of adventure with their friends he’d do the same, always slightly relieved when she’d show up but he’d put on the irritating act as soon as he got the chance which ruined her mood, every time. and well, it would be a lie to say the two never found themselves hate fucking each other after one of their parties, drunk and pissed at each other only to pretend like it had never happened.

To Harry, the animosity mixed with a hidden sense of fondness and maybe even a hint of attraction.

The woman ignored his comment, chewing her food before taking a swig of the soda looking back at him with a rather unamused expression. “What do you want Harry? And who the hell even let you in here?” she continued eating and wrapping up her email while he formed his reply. “Told Morgan I’d bring it up to yeh, she’s got a bit of a crush on me so she handed it over without much convincing.” Yet another eyeroll from Y/n was delivered. “She’s like 19, don’t manipulate her into worming into my office just because she can’t see that you’re a much bigger prick then the one in your pants will ever be.”

“First of all, 19 is legal so if she wants to eye fuck me I’ll allow it. Second, don’t be rude. This is a professional setting, do you think it’s appropriate to talk about my genitals in the work place? Might have to report you.”

Y/n couldn’t help the small snort she let out at his antics. As much as he annoyed her, sometimes she did find him a bit humorous. “and for the record, I’m very happy with my package and I don’t appreciate that comment.” He pointed a finger at her, a fake angry look on his face. “Just as much as I don’t appreciate you intruding on what was supposed to be my down time to eat, we’re even shrimp dick.”

Harry gasped at the insult, squinting at her slightly. While Harry was skilled in pressing her buttons, she could do it the same. Making comments on his dick size, sex skills, business deals or things of that nature always got him riled up. That 12-year-old boy mentality rearing it’s ugly head any time she makes a comment about his dick being small. Childish he was, absolutely childish.

“Don’t get smart with me, I’ll whip it out right here to prove my point.” His eyebrow raised and she could see him chewing on his cheek in annoyance. She truly found it funny how peeved she could make a grown man by making fun of his penis. He was ridiculous.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, I didn’t bring my mental scrub brush to work with me today.” When she had finished speaking the woman tossed her now empty salad box into the trash, taking another sip of her drink and finally sending off the painfully long email.

Harry decided it was time for him to head back to his own office, which was right across the street much to Y/n’s displeasure but of course he couldn’t leave without a final childish jab at the woman.

“Just remember, I’ve had you bouncing on my dick more than once. Don’t hold yourself so high and mighty dear, because we both know I’ll have you like that again.”

And with that a Harry with a cheeky smirk on his face left the office, leaving a slightly stunned Y/n in his wake.

(eek pt.1 lets see how this one goes.)

#harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles series #CEO!harry #CEO!yn #harry styles concept #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader

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auncyen · 3 years

Text

So a long time ago I wrote a start of a fic where Ryuji gets knocked out from Shido's explosion and is thrown back into the real world, unconscious. Ren brings him to Takemi's clinic and then answers Ryuji's phone when he realizes Mama Sakamoto is calling, attempting to make some kind of cover story for Ryuji not coming home or answering his phone before it becomes apparent she ID'd Ryuji from the video calling card. She's coming over to the clinic, and she wants answers.

AND THAT'S WHERE IT STALLED FOREVER. If anyone would like to take a look at what I have of part 2, where she gets to the clinic:

Ren was in the middle of sending an update to the group chat when the door to the clinic opened. The woman who walked in was short and dark-haired, and Ren had the split-second impulse to ask her if she had a real emergency--god knew he didn't want anything drawing Takemi's attention away from Ryuji right now--before her eyes landed on him with a look of such contempt that Caroline might have asked for tips.

The text for the group chat was forgotten. It would have only been to report that there was nothing to report yet. "Sakamoto-san?" he hazarded, his voice wavering.

"Where," she said flatly, "is my son."

He didn't know why it should have thrown him off so much that her hair wasn't bleached blond--of course it wasn't. But even besides that, she really didn't look like Ryuji at all. Short, somewhat stout, with a wider nose and other differences in the face...when it came to looks, Ryuji must have taken after his father's side.

Ren immediately knew he'd rather eat one of his daggers than say that to either mother or son.

"Sakamoto-san," Takemi said, emerging from the back. "Your son is in here. He suffered a concussion and Amamiya-kun brought him to me for examination." Her tone was a bit more polite than her usual, if still casual, and Ren appreciated that maybe she was trying to pull his fat from the fire.

"I want an explanation for all of this," Sakamoto-san said angrily. "...But I want to see him, first."

Ah. Now Ren saw the family resemblance, both in her expression and her protectiveness.

Takemi nodded, opening the door for Sakamoto-san to go in. Ren started to rise from his seat, wanting to see Ryuji himself, but a flat look from the doctor stopped him cold. She didn't want him following.

Logically, he knew Takemi was simply keeping things orderly and controlled. Ryuji's mother was upset, and Takemi knew she was mad at him already. Better to keep him out of the room if Sakamoto-san might take any of Takemi's news badly.

But the feeling that stirred in his gut was blame and guilt, making him cover his face with his hands after the door had closed. He felt sick.

He couldn't deny his responsibility. It had been his idea to stall in the safe room instead of immediately stealing Shido's treasure after Futaba broadcasted the calling card. If stalling had been the deciding factor in Shido being able to manipulate his own cognition and cause the violent collapse... Then it was completely his fault.

He shouldn't even care about what Ryuji's mother thought of him, anyway. That could wait until after Ryuji had woken up. But the cold way she'd looked at him hurt, pathetically enough. He'd really hoped that she would like him. Mostly because Ryuji was afraid she'd be upset when he came out to her--she'd asked a couple of times about him getting a girlfriend. Ren was hopeful, considering she'd supported her son through thick, thin, and hair bleach, and might only be asking about girlfriends because Ryuji was way more vocal about his interest in cute girls than cute guys, but he understood Ryuji's fear. There was always the chance that it would be the one thing too far. So he'd wanted to make a good impression on her when they met, hoping it'd help her accept it better whenever Ryuji was ready to come out.

But Ren had also just...selfishly wanted Ryuji's mother to like him. He'd wanted to make a good impression on her because Ryuji always lit up when he talked about her, and she sounded like a great mom, and Ren wanted someone like that to look at him and think that he could be a decent match for her son. That he was a good kid.

Well. He'd fucked that up already. He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, forcing a deep breath as he tried to press the tears back. This wasn't the time for being weak and selfish. He had to worry about Ryuji waking up first. Then he could worry about making sure Ryuji wasn't grounded forever, and that he wasn't strangled for endangering Ryuji.

Except that still left him with nothing he could do for the time being.

He felt so useless. He wished he could have taken Ryuji to Shibuya station. If he could have just gotten him to the entrance of Mementos with Morgana, the two of them might have been able to heal Ryuji. But they hadn't been sure if cognitive healing would help when someone was plain knocked out cold in the real world; bringing him to the clinic had seemed the safer bet. But now...

Ren groaned. First he'd left Akechi behind a solid wall of metal on a ship that was now sunk. And now, Ryuji...

Takemi was speaking to Ryuji's mother in the room at length, and Ren rested his head against the wall, hoping to hear through it. Good news? Bad news? He could only hear her tone, calm and level. Takemi wasn't the type to sugarcoat, but she still highlighted better outcomes when they were possibilities to her patients. She'd said once that people often had improved outcomes if they were given attentive care and thought they should get better. She called it a placebo effect. Morgana called it the power of cognition.

But since Ryuji wasn't conscious, he didn't know he was being treated by one of the best doctors in Tokyo. That he should get better and just please wake up.

Ryuji's mother didn't seem any happier when Takemi opened the door for her to step back out into the waiting room. Ren felt his whole body stiffen when Takemi closed the door again, half-expecting to be screamed at, but Ryuji's mother just stared him down. When she spoke, her voice was tightly controlled. "So you're the leader of the Phantom Thieves. What must your parents think?"

"My parents?" he echoed.

She laughed, but it sounded more disbelieving than genuine. "You think they don't know? I recognized Ryuji plain as day under that weird skull-mask. Yours shows even more of your face. Do they actually approve of all this?"

That was a question he hadn't even considered recently, and he weighed what honest answer he could give her that didn't sound self-pitying. No, he didn't think they knew at all. They didn't have reason to look at the calling card too closely. Didn't have any suspicions about his after school activities, or any clue that he wasn't even in school for the time being. Ryuji's phone had several voicemails from his mother tonight alone. Ren's phone hadn't rang once tonight, and it had been a while since he had gotten a message from either his father or mother.

He was taking too long to answer; something in Sakamoto's expression shifted. "I don't have their approval," he said quickly, before she could get further upset. "I act for my own sense of justice."

"An' you dragged Ryuji right along into it," Sakamoto said.

That wasn't quite accurate, but Ren nodded anyway. "...Yes." It had a grain of truth to it: Igor had given the app to him. Ryuji would never have been thrown into the metaverse if he hadn't run into Ren. And it would be better to just get this over with. Take her anger and her blame. It was his fault she was upset.

Ryuji's mother took a long, deep breath. "What happened?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"Sure, you steal hearts and desires and whatnot. I still want an explanation," she pressed.

...He had no idea if she'd be patient enough for an explanation of the Metaverse. He'd bet on not. So he described the situation in broad strokes: "The group was in trouble. Ryuji took a risk to get us out safe. And he pulled it off. We could have all ended up dead if it wasn't for him." Futaba didn't know how to swim. Even for the rest of them, the waters had been turbulent enough that Ren didn't think their odds would have been good, not when they'd also had to navigate to their entrance point in the dark of night, already exhausted from a grueling fight. Perhaps some of them would have made it out...he doubted it would have been all of them. "But he got hurt. I'm--I'm sorry. It's my fault we were in that position."

"Why?"

"I...made the group wait before we changed Shido's heart. I was hoping..." Ren's voice shook, and the rest of the words failed to come.

He'd been hoping Akechi would show up. If Akechi had been alive, no matter if he was hiding somewhere in the Palace or trying to stay under the radar in Tokyo, as soon as they'd took over the airwaves with their calling card and set the Palace's security to high alert, Akechi would know. He would know they were taking Shido's heart. He would know that they would be in the Palace.

He could have joined them. So Ren had asked everyone to wait for an hour in one safe room as he warped between all of them and entrance, checking to see if Akechi would manage to drag himself in. Ann and Ryuji had both volunteered to help, and he'd been grateful, but he figured it was better if everyone else stayed together so they weren't split up between several different locations. When he hadn't spotted Akechi in the hour, he'd come back to the group and asked Futaba if she could do a scan for him--a last-ditch request, since she had every right to refuse to help.

Futaba had looked absolutely miserable. She'd already tried multiple scans. There was nothing. Ren had made everyone wait for nothing. He should have known it was too much to hope after Akechi had closed himself off behind the door. He'd only given Shido more time to counter.

"We were missing one," Ren said finally. Maybe Akechi would have objected to being counted as one of the group, but it was the simplest way to explain now. And he...wasn't going to object, anyway. "I made the group wait, but they never showed."

"They in some kind of trouble?"

The question surprised him a little, but this wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on any longer. "Nothing I can help with," Ren said.

-and that's it so far.

And I'm just kind of......unsure where to go from there. Which makes me wonder if I should have started the dialogue differently or change something else earlier or...what.

#persona 5 #writing #I am stumped

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chocolatte-and-despair · 3 years

Text

The unsolved case of Iris Tyson

It’s always tragic hearing about someone ending up dead. But it’s even more tragic when the culprit is never found, and the family of the victim never gets the closure that they deserve. Today, we’re talking about one of those cases. Today, we’re talking about the unsolved case of Iris Tyson.

The reason why I decided to focus on Iris’ case is because of the little to no coverage that her case has gotten, and I believe that it’s only right to spread the word at least a little bit.

Iris, a 23-year-old woman, was an only child, but her family was big, her having a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins. She was loved by everyone, and people said that she had a magnetic personality. Iris adored singing and never shied away from entertaining people with her singing.

Iris at the time of her going missing was unemployed but she always wanted to become a veterinarian. She also loved her cat, Yum-Yum, like her own daughter.

Iris was someone who preferred being at home over going outside with friends or going on trips. Iris and one of her friends were planning on going on a trip to Florida Keys, but Iris canceled the trip after she realized that she wouldn’t want to be away from home for so long.

From what I found while looking around, there is a Facebook group dedicated to her memory and some of her cousins have made tributes on YouTube of her best photos. That is enough to show that she is missed. It’s heartbreaking that her family has not found closure just yet.

The day of the accident was Mother’s Day, May 8, 2011. The location that this took place in was South Philadelphia and from reports, this happened around 1 PM.

It was Mother’s Day and Iris wanted to get her mother, Kelly, a surprise mother’s day’s gift. The gift was going to be a mother’s day’s card. Iris told her father about her plan, and he happily agreed with keeping it a secret from Kelly. Before Iris could slip away, Kelly caught her and asked where she was going. Kelly explains that she’s going to run to the grocery store and will be back “in a little bit”. That was the last thing that Kelly told her family before disappearing.

Seeing as this happened a lot of times, her family had no reason to suspect that something might happen. She usually took the Pathway on Oregon Avenue, which was only a few blocks away from where they lived. They had no reason to think that something bad would happen on that very day. Ironically so, the day was beautiful, as if trying to mask the tragedy that is going to happen not too long after.

It didn’t take long for her family to start getting worried about Iris. It was around 3 PM when this happened. Iris was a responsible person and she had made plans to be back and have dinner with her mother. By 6 PM, the family was frantic, and they filed a missing person’s report. Fearing that something horrible happened to Iris, they reported the disappearance of their daughter to Philadelphia’s police department.

Like in many cases, the police did not do much initially. As in many cases where an adult disappears, they said to the family that because the person is an adult, they could have simply left on their own or they are doing something without telling the family. That usually happens in cases like these. At times, police take weeks before taking an adult’s missing case seriously, and that minimalizes the chances of finding the person still alive or find the person at all.

After realizing that the police were not going to do anything to help the family, Iris’ family and friends got to work trying to search for the missing woman. Family and friends went around posting missing person posters, and her parents drove around the neighborhood’s streets in search of their missing daughter. Sadly, everything was in vain, as they found no trace of the poor girl.

People who knew Iris knew that she would never go missing without telling her family or friends about her whereabouts. She was a good and diligent person who was very close to her family and had no history of trying to run away from home. She was especially close with her mother, Kelly.

Iris’ parents, Joe, and Kelly did everything they could to try and spread awareness about the disappearance of their daughter. They took interviews with several reporters, but those interviews were never aired live. Joe and Kelly were very frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the police and local news media.

After a week of relentless searching for Iris, the family received a call that no family wants to get. The police reported that a body was found in an overgrown, grassy Point Breeze lot on Sunday morning. The police say that Iris died from blunt force trauma to the head, which was ruled out to be a homicide. Joe went to identify the body and confirmed that it’s Iris, based on the butterfly tattoo that the body had.

The body was found by someone who was collecting bottles near an abandoned area. When family and friends heard that, they said confidently that Iris was not the type of person that would go to places like that. She was a responsible and clever young woman and knew to avoid places like that. Her family and friends were sure that she was abducted and brought there by force.

The coroner’s office determined that Iris died from blunt force to her head. And even if when her body was found her pants were removed, there were no signs of sexual assault or a robbery. As of right now, detectives are not sure about the motive or reason behind this murder.

This case left a lot of questions in the minds of the policemen. A spokesperson of the police force said that there were many questions left unanswered. They didn’t know if the murder was committed in the overgrown lot, or if it happened somewhere else and the body was simply dropped off at the location. Police say that they believe Iris’ body was dropped off there hours after her disappearance.

To say the least, it was almost too much for the family to handle, knowing that their daughter was so close to home without them knowing that or being able to help.

Because of the Police’s lack of initial involvement and concern about Iris’ missing status, they were forced to hurry by trying to understand what happened and create a timeline. So, based on the witness report, Iris was heading towards the Oregon Plaza shopping center, but there are no reports of her ever arriving there. Last, she has been seen at the intersection of 4th and Ritner.

As protocol, the police interviewed the family to try and figure out if anyone might have a motive to kill Iris, but her family and friends were confused, and nobody came to mind. Iris was known as a very sweet person, who was generally beloved by everyone. It seemed like an impossible thought to them that anyone would want to murder Iris.

Iris also didn’t seem to know anyone in the area where she was found dead. The area was generally deserted too, as most homes were abandoned. It’s still a mystery to the detectives on why Iris was even there in the first place.

Sadly, like many other cases, Iris’ case didn’t get much publicity when it first happened. Not even when her body was found did the reporters find this case interesting enough to write anything about it. That reduced the family’s chance to get the world about the tragedy that struck them, and to maybe catch the killer.

The family was desperate for any information, and in September of that year, started to offer a 2,000$ reward to anyone who was able to provide any information about the case. But nobody came forward.

In a last-ditch effort, the family rose the reward money for any information to 3,500$ in October, but that also didn’t get any attention, and nobody sent any information.

Kelly went to the press, while addressing the murderer. She explains that they took her daughter and best friend away but that they were willing to forgive them if they came out and allowed the family to find closure. That still didn’t bear any fruits for the family and to this day, the case remains unsolved.

In 2017, reporters interview Joe, and the man says that time didn’t heal the wounds that Iris’ murder caused the whole family, and they think of her every day, hoping that one day justice will be served and that Iris’ could finally be put to rest.

If you have any information about Iris’s murder, please contact the Citizens Crime Commission of the Delaware Valley at 215–546–8477. You may remain anonymous. Do NOT prank call this number. This situation is not a joke and should be taken seriously.

My opinions about this case:

Iris was clearly a good person who didn’t deserve this. She had a loving family and a bright future before her. She was kind and generally beloved. A truly good person. It’s rare to meet people like that nowadays and it’s a tragedy that we lost her.

Her family still has an active facebook group, missing her disappearance. It’s clear that the family loved Iris and that it hurts to them that her killer couldn’t be caught. That she still hasn’t been put to rest.

I partially blame the police for their lack of involvement in the beginning. It’s sad but this is how a lot of cases of adults going missing are handled. If the police would have listened to the family originally, they might have caught the killer or at least found the body sooner.

All I can hope for is that the family finds justice soon and that Iris is finally able to know that she has been avenged and that nobody else is going to have the same fate as her.

Source Materials:

Article 1

Article 2

Article 3

Facebook group

#news #true crime #unsolved case #unsolved homicide #iris tyson #not known

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sortasirius · 3 years

Text

Celebrations

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Words: 1644

Warnings: mentions of abuse, my usual hatred of John Winchester

AN: I miss him a whole lot. Happy birthday, Dean <3

Read it on AO3 here!

When Dean turned four, his mother baked him a birthday pie instead of a cake. It was apple, his favorite, and made the house smell like heaven the whole day. Better than heaven, as Dean would learn when he was much older. They threw a party for him, surrounded by his friends from pre-school and their parents, they were allowed to run around the house because it was too cold and snowy to play outside for long. Dean still remembers the way that he slid across the wood floor to get to the umbrella base in tag, laughing as his friends chased him.

They had opened presents and Dean had gotten new Hot Wheels and two new Lego sets. He remembered that he got the first piece of pie with a candle in it, that they had all sung him happy birthday, and that they had ended the day with a snowball fight and hot chocolate in front of the fire that night, where Dean was curled between his mother and father, sleepily holding the little black muscle car he had been given in his hand as his mother stroked his hair.

That was the last birthday party he ever had on earth.

When Dean turned ten, his father had taken him shooting. They had stood in front of some stationary cans, a makeshift gun range in the middle of the woods of Colorado, and John had kept him at it until he could hit every target with his eyes closed. He had known how to hold a gun from the time he was six years old, but he swelled with pride when he hit one of the cans, looking up at John for approval, getting a half-smile and a hand ruffling his hair every so often.

When Dean turned sixteen, he spent the day in school staring out the window and wondering what his father was hunting this time. He wanted to be there, he wanted to be out there saving people, hunting things, protecting his father’s back, showing him that he was ready for the life. He wasn’t cut out for school his report card that he intentionally made worse than it could be showed that, he wanted to show his father that he was really made to be a hunter. Too bad he couldn’t even fake being bad at math and science, he always got As in those classes, no matter how hard he tried to fail them. His birthday gift that year was a 100 on a math exam. Damn.

When Dean turned eighteen, he had already dropped out of school to hunt with his father. Sam would stay behind, only hunting during summer break, focusing on school, which Dean had never been able to do. He and his father took out a pair of ghouls, and John had given Dean a swig of his whiskey as a reward. It was, in Dean’s mind, an invitation to becoming a man.

When Dean turned twenty-one, he got shitfaced at some seedy bar while Sam studied for the SATs and John was on a hunt turned binge drinking session. They hadn’t seen him in two weeks, but that was becoming more and more routine, as every time he was home, he and Sam would fight. Dean would always get in between, always protect Sam, and if that earned him a black eye or two, so be it, he would do anything when it came to Sam. They had thrown him out of the bar when last call came around, and Dean had sung happy birthday to himself as he stumbled back to their hotel, ignoring Sam’s bitchface as he focused on his flashcards, determined to escape the life that Dean knew he was stuck with.

Birthdays came and went like any other winter days after that. Twenty-two, thirty, thirty-six, forty-one, they all passed without incident, without mention, without name. Dean didn’t mind, it was easier that way anyway. At least, that’s what he told himself when he got himself a slice of gas-station pie on a solo hunt when he turned thirty-seven. He was lucky to be alive at all.

Dean doesn’t make it to forty-two, he misses it by a few months. Time is supposed to move differently in Heaven, but Dean still knows that it’s his birthday. He spends a lot of the day at the lake by his perfect little house, not really wanting to be bothered. He knew this day would be harder for Sam down there on Earth than it would be for him. That still bothered him, even in the middle of paradise, that Sam was hurting and he couldn’t help him through it. It was an adjustment, they all told him, something that you got used to, but how does he forget that he left his brother, the man he raised, that he loves with all he has, on Earth by himself. He’s not by himself, he reminds himself fifty or so times, staring out at the smooth, glassy surface of the water ringed with aged trees, he has Eileen, he has a life.

People seem to understand that he wants to be alone, no one swings by like they usually do to check in with him. They seem to understand that his first birthday in Heaven may be one that he wants to spend alone. Except for the dark-haired angel who settles in his own chair at the end of their little dock, sitting silently and watching the water with Dean. Dean occasionally takes his eyes off the water and settles on the angel, in his beat up Zeppelin t-shirt and jeans and boots, his messy hair and his bright blue eyes.

“Should I tell you happy birthday?” Cas eventually asks, looking at him directly, not out of the corner of his eyes, “Or is that not appropriate anymore?”

“You can,” Dean watches the minnows twirl in the water at their feet, not able to meet Cas’ eyes, “Are they looking for me?”

“I told them not to,” Cas responds, not taking his eyes off of Dean’s face, “I figured you’d need a little time. Many of them have been here for years, they forget that it takes some getting used to, especially for someone stubborn like you.”

Dean rolls his eyes but huffs a laugh in spite of himself.

“It’s not so much me,” he lets the words fall out of his mouth, uninhibited here as they were so often on Earth, “It’s more Sam. I still worry, even though I know he’ll get here eventually.”

“You raised him, it’s understandable,” Cas’ hand reaches for Dean’s and Dean takes it automatically, feeling the tightness in his chest ease at the feel of Cas’ strong, warm hand in his. He still wasn’t used to it, wasn’t used to having Cas to wake up to in the morning, having Cas hold him at night, having someone that understood him so fully, inside and out.

“Should I stop being mopey?”

“You know as well as I do that I can’t tell you what to do,” Cas smiles, “But I think Ellen might like it if you came to the Roadhouse today.”

“Why?”

“Because she wants to give you a real birthday party.”

Dean feels the way he did when he was four again: almost weightless with excitement. He doesn’t even pause, just stands up and starts dragging Cas to the Impala, speeding towards the Roadhouse and the idea of his very own birthday party in nearly forty years.

It’s just like he had always dreamed, one of those things that really made him believe this was Heaven and not just some made-up djinn dream. Everyone was there, everyone he had loved and lost and found again in the sprawling eternity that was this place. They had his favorite food, his favorite music, his favorite beer…everything was perfect. Well, he thought so anyway, until his mother came out of the kitchen with a steaming apple pie with a candle in it and set it in front of Dean. They all sang happy birthday, and he took the first bite of his birthday pie with a smile so wide he thought his face might split in two.

“Did you set all that up?” Dean asks Cas when they’re in bed that night, Cas tracing the freckles on Dean’s skin with his long fingers.

“No, I just planted the seed. Mentioned to Mary and Ellen that you might like a birthday party.”

Dean listens to the trees rustle outside their window for a while, trying to find the words.

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know you’ve never really been able to celebrate you, any milestones, any accomplishments. It’s not a hunter’s life. It’s not that I knew you wanted it, it’s that I wanted that for you. You deserve it.”

Dean closes his eyes at the words, letting them wash over him like a warm shower. He had never really thought he deserved anything, but he was starting to understand that, whether he deserved the party or the family and friends he had, he might, just maybe, deserve Cas.

“I want to give you a birthday party.”

Cas laughs, pressing his lips to Dean’s hair.

“I’m many millennia old, I don’t think I ever had a date assigned.”

“Pick one, then.”

Cas considers for a while, hands still running along Dean’s skin.

“September 22, the fall equinox.”

Dean doesn’t question it, just leans up to press his lips to Cas’.

“I’ll start planning,” he pauses again, steeling himself to find the right words, “Thank you. For today. I love you.”

“Of course. And I you.”

Dean falls asleep that night dreaming of Cas, of birthday pie, and of fall birthday parties. He learns to let Sam be, to be his own person, to celebrate himself, for a change.

#my writing #supernatural #spn #destiel #spn ficlet #dean #dean winchester

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rotzaprachim · 3 years

Text

i realised i probably will never get here in in painter’s light so enjoy this my favorite fandom crossover/easter egg i’ve ever written:

(It’s from an au where declan stayed with his mother ergo canon + dialect differences)

6. Washington DC

Age twenty, he gets a business call from a woman who has a statue to sell. Normally he doesn’t take these kinds of calls anymore, the ones that are meant to go straight to his mother’s number, but this woman sounds desperate in the way that has him thinking it’s better if he handles it than one of his mother’s hands in the city, so he buys two Amtrack tickets, and north he goes. Matthew gets sick after eating a microwaveable, foil-wrapped train burger from the snack car.

He installs Matthew in the Met while he meets his contact. An old school deli, one of the kind that’s apparently disappearing fast, an endangered species, and she’s probably a local so it’ll be annoying or pretentious anyway, but she refused any of his options for fancier, more expensive wine-and-dine locations anyway so deli it is. He gets a lox bagel and a coffee and two black-and-whites in a bag to split with Matthew later while he sizes her up. She keeps looking at her hands but she’s calm with the person she called in from Boudicca, has something steely about her, like she’s dealt with bigger fish before and isn’t scared. There’s something about her that’s like him, he knows, thought they don’t say the magic word at all. He thinks she’s maybe thirty.

“In the interest of not beating around the bush further, as it’s clear that’s what neither of us is here to do, let’s move on to the real action item.”

“I have a statue to sell.”

She shows him photos. The camera resolution isn’t quite what he needs to appraise it seriously, but he can see how shockingly life-like it is already.

“How much d’you want for it?”

“Fifty thousand.”

He almost coughs up his coffee.

“You haven’t been playing this game for long.”

She doesn't’ say anything.

“Fifty thousand, take it or leave it.”

“What’s the material?”

“Marble.”

He considers. If it’s good up close he could probably resell it for four or five times that to some collector interested in neo-hellenic stuff. Not many people making original marble statuary these days compared to the market of the super-rich looking for shit to decorate their back gardens.

“Can you show me?”

Declan calls Matthew to tell him to go back to the hotel and get takeaway without him and follows the woman uptown on the bus. They get off in Spanish Harlem, a world away from the shiny robot skyscrapers downtown. She lives on the fourth floor of her building, in a narrow apartment somewhat rank with the smell of body odour and spilled beer, although she throws the windows open and has loads of potted plants about, like she’s trying very hard to get rid of the smell.

“There.”

The sculpture is unmissable. Life size and astonishingly, terribly ugly. Truly incredible in it’s attention to awful detail. A middle aged, balding, short man with a fan of cards in one hand and a beer swinging from the other, positioned exactly as if he’s just got up from sitting. Mouth opened, soundlessly screaming his head off. Declan sees it and flinches without even meaning too. His mother’s not had many men, but she had a few, when she was younger. But it’s just a statue. Just a statue.

Still one of the weirdest goddamn things he’s ever fucking seen, and that’s saying something.

Authentic marble though.

“Formal education? Apprenticed to someone?”

“Take it or leave it. Fifty thousand.”

No more information. He knows exactly why she called him. He’s the kind of man you call when you don’t have information about the life-sized sculpture of a man in your sitting room and no information to give about how you made it, in the same year you report your husband missing to the police. When to the untrained eye, the two look identical. He’s that kind of man.

He gets her three million USD for it.

It’s all through an official channel so it’s harder to launder, get it looking legal. A million upfront, the rest leaked in increments over the next ten years. All shiny, all legal, all IRS-signed off. He personally takes out fifty thousand and puts it in a manila envelope for when he meets her a few blocks off central station, an hour before his train’s scheduled to leave. He gives her the envelope. She gives him a white paper bag containing only blue sweets. It looks like a proper pick-n-mix haul, something he didn’t even think the States had. Whoppers, sour strings, taffy, gum, gummy sharks. He eats a sweet and sour wind-up before being able to stop himself, the sweet-sour crystals on his fingers like being a kid again.

“You’re so young,” she says finally, like this didn’t occur to her the entire time he was selling what was probably her husband’s dead body.

He shrugs, but he’s smiling. “But I got your done.” She can’t be more than ten years older than him, anyway, and most of her jobs have been harder. You don’t tell art world undergrounders your personal life, anyway, but he noticed all of the accoutrements of a maybe secondary-school aged kid lurking around her flat, Lucky Charms, mud scuffs on the floor in strange places, football jerseys in the hamper. She’d tried to hide the obvious things, no photos on the fridge or skateboard leaning against the door frame, but he had an eye for those kinds of details like other people had a head for figures, and he recognised the detritus of a teenager well, because he’d been one recently and he had one.

She appraises him for a second. Her eyes are large and very dark brown, and they don’t let anything go. “Zeus?” she finally says, like she’s been thinking it for a long time, testing the waters. “Hera?”

“Like the Greek gods?”

He went through his greek mythology phase, for sure. Half of decoding what posh people write seems to be about knowing the ins and outs of the soap operatic turns of events people told each other for fun two thousand years ago, which is then called Classics.

She looks at him longer, considers him.

“Lugh, then? Bridgid?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

She nods. “Sorry if- nevermind. Thank you for selling my statue.”

“I hope you do well with it. With your… artistic career. Now, and I don’t fucking care if you blow throught he money in a year, never call me again. Never call this number again. Never call any number related to it. If your money never comes through do fine with a million and don’t go looking. Never.” They shake hands and part ways, and he never sees her again, but he does think about her a lot afterwards anyway, parsing their conversation out. No gods and no God either, as far as he knows. Strange fucking thing to ask.

He’s learned enough by how Matthew is on trains - and on ferries, it transpires, and in strange taxis, and he doesn’t want to fucking think about the transatlantic flight he’s planning at some point - not to let him eat much before the train back to DC, for which he feels bad. While they were in New York he let Matthew choose a show and dutifully got some last minute Dear Evan Hansen tickets off a third party seller, got the good seats and the playbill they got signed after by the cast, Declan knows who to talk to for these kinds of things.

#my writing #crossover time.#in painter's light #declan lynch #and i won't... say who else #but after i saw posts about this online i was like of course. of course

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