#he should’ve have been a father and told corny jokes and be happy!!!

[kiwi-the-first]

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower. 

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded. 

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love. 

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

--

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore. 

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

--

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

 He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze. 

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today". 

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

--

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too" 

Huh?

Oh- 

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would. 

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself. 

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

--

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since. 

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his. 

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth. 

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies. 

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you. 

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

:)

[kikilefangirl]

New Light

Barry Allen x Reader

(Quick Note: Happy Inauguration Day! After all the craziness and stress four years in the making, I wanted to write someone as kindhearted and sweet as Barry Allen.)

(Word Count: 1837)

“I’m on my way, Felicity, my train was running late—“

A hard shoulder slamming into your chest cut you off mid sentence and knocked you all the way to the hard ground.

Between the roar of trains coming in and out of the platform, shuffling footsteps, and your friend’s worried yelling through the phone, disoriented was a nice way of putting it. Your still head was spinning as you stumbled to your feet.

“Oh my, oh my god, I am so sorry—let me, uh— and you’re...already...up.” He rambled.

So it was a man who ran into you. And he was going on and on nervously as he picked up your fallen items. He had a thin build and dark hair, but you could only focus on his clumsy hands and apologetic eyes.

“It’s totally fine, just be careful next time.” You joked and pushed your braids away from your face.

The man rose to his feet and held your phone and purse out towards you. As you took them and gave him your best smile. There was something about his absentmindedness that was kind of charming and intriguing.

“I, uh, um...Barry Allen. I’m Barry Allen....Barry is my name.” He said.

You held in your laugh for fear of flustering him more and settled on a curious gaze. Barry wiped a hand on his back pocket and offered it to you.

“Nice to meet you, Barry. I’m Y/N.” You replied as you shook his hand.

You decided to omit the Queen part of your name, for now. Barry seemed sweet and genuinely interested in you. Having a dead father, a brother back from the dead, an out of control sister, and a mother on trial for mass murder tended to scare away any potential partners. You shifted your weight.

You had to get going sooner rather than later, but not wanting to let Barry go just yet, you took out a pen out of your purse and wrote your number on his palm.

“Try not to mow anyone else down today, and maybe give me a call if you're still in town, Barry.” You told him.

He stuttered through a response and turned a bright pink. You nodded with a smile and promptly walked off to your awaiting car.

“Barry Allen.” You repeated his name out loud once inside and heat built up in your cheeks. You hoped he’d call.

...

Oliver was waiting in his office for you when you walked up to the entrance of Queen Consolidated.

Pushing through the glass doors, you didn’t spare a second thought on the curious stares people sent you, you had spent your whole life getting them. A ping on your phone made you smile as soon as you saw it.

Sorry I ran you over earlier...I don’t really know places to go out here, but I could find somewhere if you still wanted to go out with me?—Barry Allen (from the train station, sorry again!)

A warm, bubbly feeling took over your whole body. Barry gave you a feeling you had rarely experienced: he was genuinely good. You needed some positivity in the midst of your chaotic life.

Before you could reply back, a woman’s voice and body stood in your way. You had only made it to the front desk.

“Excuse me—“

“No unauthorized personnel, here.” She explained.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you looked up from your phone. Tons of other people were free and clear to pass by, but of course you, the black girl was stopped. Clicking your tongue, you tried to move past her.

“Do you have an ID for Queen Consolidated? If you don’t I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police.” She said.

Bullshit.

“My name is Y/N Queen. Move.” You sniped. You were already running late as it was, but today of all days a white girl just had to try you.

“I’ve never heard of you. I’m calling the police.” She threatened. Her hand was already on the buttons. You huffed. What had started as an annoyance had escalated into full blown danger.

You quickly dialed your brother’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

“You’re late, Y/N.” Oliver chastised from the other end.

“Actually, I’m downstairs being blocked from the elevator, in a building we own, and a company we have shares in. Get down here, now.”

For a few tortuous minutes, you stood there waiting at a stalemate. The security was bounding down the steps; they were big men in dark suits and earpieces.

You ran your tongue on the roof of your mouth, a mix of anger and fear and shame. Oliver wasn’t supposed to bail you out. You were just as much a Queen as he was and should’ve had the same access as he did. You ground your teeth and folded your arms.

You were relieved when the elevator dinged and Oliver stepped out of it.

His eyes widened in surprise for a split second, before the realization of what was happening sunk in. To anyone that didn’t know him, Oliver might have looked calm. But the clenched jaw, pulled back lip corners and the way he furled and unfurled his hands as he adjusted his suit said otherwise.

“Who told you that you could physically block and try to remove my sister from the area?” He said with a straight face, staring directly at the woman.

You smirked as she stumbled through a range of bullshit excuses and ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Queen’ over and over again to no avail.

Oliver protectively ushered you into the elevator, but before the doors could close you yelled, “Might wanna see who’s hiring!”

On the way up, you brushed off Oliver’s questions and concerns. You had lived your entire life black, this was nothing new to you. But after five years away, it probably was to him. You weren’t a teenager standing by his or your dad’s side anymore.

“I’m fine, Ollie. Drop it, please.” You pleaded.

“That woman was going to call the police on you, Y/N.” He continued, still bewildered.

“I get that being on that island wasn’t your fault, but I’ve held my own as a black woman for five years without you or dad. Things like that are just a part of the package.” You explained.

As the two of you stepped off the elevator, you softened when he gave you a long hug. It was his apology, and you leaned in, accepting it. Five years was a long time away.

“I only came by to check in on you. With the break in and all, plus Mom’s party tonight...” You trailed off.

Oliver offered a small smile as the two of you rounded the corner. You blinked in surprise when you saw none other than Barry Allen talking to Felicity. Your mood instantly brightened.

“Barry!” You called out. At the sound of his name, he saw you and fell flat on his face. Clumsiness was becoming a theme between you two. You hurried over and helped him up.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, but Barry stared at you, confused. You held Barry’s full attention as if no one else was in the room. It was refreshing, really.

“Hi-hi again, Y/N...What are you doing h-here?” He asked. You held Barry’s full attention as if no one else was in the room. It was refreshing, really. Too bad Oliver had to ruin it.

“Barry, how do you know my little sister?” He said it, more than asked it.

Oliver gave Barry an icy glare. The threat in his voice may have had an effect on everyone else, but it made you roll your eyes in annoyance. He just had to add the little sister part. Barry straightened up and swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the process.

Damn it, Oliver. You two were very hot and cold lately and it bothered you to no end.

“I met him this morning, Ollie, mind your business.” You snapped. You turned back to Barry and smiled.

“There’s a party at our house tonight, you should drop by if my idiot brother doesn’t kill you first. Text me for the address.” You declared. Your eyes burned with defiance as you stormed off, matching Oliver’s mood. You guessed you really were siblings.

As you left, you hoped Barry would show.

...

The annual Queen family Christmas party was honestly, the most awkward two hours of your life.

You, Moira, Thea, and Oliver stood in an almost empty living room. The only guests seemed to be the caterers. Barry hadn’t texted you, either.

“Maybe...people got lost on the way.” You offered. Moira smiled at you and patted your shoulder.

“Thank you, dear, but we all know the real reason. Nobody wants to be seen with the likes of me.” She said. She was right. You shot her an apologetic look and handed her another drink.

Oliver took the opportunity to whisk you away from your mother and sister, “Y/N, help me with the drinks, please.”

You obliged without protest. You had already been stood up by half the city and Barry. Family really was all you had.

“What, Ollie?” You asked in an exasperated tone.

“I know that you took on a lot, while I was on the island. And I know that being the oldest wasn’t easy, especially for you in the public eye. I read the tabloids.”

Oliver’s admission made you a little teary eyed. He was the first person in the family to truly consider you family. He was your big brother. He caught up on all of the horrible headlines and rumors that swirled about you after the news broke about the Queen’s Gambit.

“Which is why I invited someone special, tonight. For you.” Oliver said. You raised a brow in confusion.

“I’m not that great over text.” You turned around and your mouth dropped open a little. It was Barry, in a really nice suit looking finer than ever. You gave him a hug and he took your hand.

“I’m also not a great dancer, I’ll try not to step on your toes.” He admitted. You led him to the dance floor and nodded to the musicians.

“Don’t worry about it. There isn’t much of a crowd to judge you.” You joked.

You and Barry swayed to the music, talking and laughing the whole way through. Barry Allen, you found, really was the ray of light you needed in the moment. The past few months were some of the hardest in your life, filled with dark moments and uncertainty.

As Barry held you and told you corny science jokes and yes, stepped on your toes once or twice, you realized you had never met anyone as sweet and as kind as him.

When the night was over, you couldn’t help but look forward to the next time you saw him.

[laketaj24]

Toss a Coin II: Valley of Plenty

Author’s Note: It was supposed to be a one shot and of course, as usual I couldn’t make it a one shot. I hope you enjoy! My taglist is open! Requests open! I got this idea from a request so send them!If I missed you on the taglist add your name HERE please!! If your name appears Twice could you go in the taglist and take it off! lol Hope you enjoy! (The taglist is almost longer than my fic, I’m flattered)

Warnings: Smut

Pairings: Geralt x Reader

Requested: Hey! Can you please write Geralt falling in love with a reader who already has a kid? Thank ya! - ANON`       

Masterlist (Has Previous Part)

“Who are you?” The small voice said from the side of the bed.

Geralt could only see eyes, the green eyes of the small brown-haired boy staring at Geralt. Geralt’s legs tangled in yours, but luckily the blanket covered everything. His head hummed with the onslaught of a headache, and he was tired. You had quite the appetite. “Fu-.” He hesitated before completing his thought.

“Are you a witcher!” His voice was curious. “Mom. Is he a witcher?”

Mom. He looked over to you, your arms draped across his chest, and the soft snores were a clear indication you were sound asleep. Geralt sighed and looked at the girl. “Who are you?”

“I’m Talstyn.” He beamed. “My mom said today I could pick the eggs today. Will you come?”

Geralt tried to process it, but the kid was adorable. “Talstyn.” He smirked. “You should ask your mother.”

“I am asking you.”

“Hmmm.” He laughed. “I will if you ask her.”

“Do you kill monsters?”

“When I need to.” Geralt's eyes were soft. “What do you do?”

“I help feed the chickens, and sometimes I get to help my Uncle Roth in Tameria with his doctor things.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“I guess.” He perched himself on the end of the bed and picked up the dark elixir from the table. “Is this your medicine?”

“It is.”

“Drink it.”

Geralt’s laugh makes your eyes flicker open. “Not right now, I don’t see any monsters.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You heard your son talking and Geralt looking down at him with more patience than he had the one day you’ve known him. You spring up from the bed, pulling the blanket to cover your breast. “Talstyn. What did I tell you about sneaking into places?”

“The door was open.” He protested, standing from the floor. “Geralt is my friend.”

“Talstyn.”

“Can he go with us to the chicken coop?” He asked in a rush blaze of words. “Please! Please!”

You chuckled, “Certainly, only if Geralt wants to join us. Go back into the tavern, and I will come to get you.” He happily jumped three feet off the ground, and his hair whipped back, revealing the little pointed ears. Then he was gone. You cleared your throat. “I am sorry about that. Talstyn usually does as he is told.”

Geralt says nothing at first, but his eyes are soft as you climb from the bed and slip into your dress. “You have a child?”

“Talstyn.” You smiled as his name floated from your lips. “He’s seven, a little rowdy at times, but he’s my heart. You were not supposed to meet him,” You paused. “So, you should consider yourself lucky.”

“I do,  the four minutes, I have met him I can tell that he's a great kid.” He sighed. “He’s half-elf?”

You swallowed. “That’s between us, and yes.” You two dress in silence, but you can feel the eyes of Geralt wandering over your body as you do so.  He tossed you the small brown bag of orens, and you smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.:

You winked at him and pecked his cheek. “It was a good time.”

“Is this goodbye? I seem to recall an invitation to a chicken coop?”

“You want to join us?”

“I would like to if that’s okay?”

“Great, I’d like that.”

  What was happening? One night you were being fucked by a renowned witcher, HE EVEN PAID!!!! And you were taking him to fetch eggs with your kid. Talstyn was ecstatic; he clung to Geralt as if he’d known him his entire life, and in a way he might have, the tune about him was catchy. He sang it often. Geralt did not protest his clinginess; he walked beside Roach with Talstyn on his leg as if he weighed nothing. It broke your back sometimes just to allow him on your hip, and yes, he was too large for it, but he was your baby.

“What’s his name?” Talstyn asked.

“Roach.”

“I don’t like that name.”

“It’s okay; he’s not your horse.” Geralt teased.

“I would’ve named him Beleg.”

The thud of your heart flooded you, Beleg the Wise, his father was his favorite name for everything. He got a dog and named him Beleg, a cat, a chicken, the neighbor's cow, all Beleg. It was soothing to know that he loved his father, but every time you heard the name, your heart sunk for a moment, and you remembered him. It was always a good thing, the blue of his irises or the bolstering laugh — the good stuff.

The chickens were already out, pecking at the grains and furling their wings. The small village did not seem like much to your some, but for you, it had an air of reclusiveness, and given the state of things with Queen Calanthe and her elven raids, the caution was needed. You didn’t want him in any danger, and you for sure didn’t want an inkling of danger near Talstyn. You all reached the coop in minutes, and immediately Talstyn sprinted to he coop.

It was the first time you were alone the entire walk. “Why'd you want to come out here?”

“Well,”  he paused. “I am here for a few days. I figured it would be nice to have someone to talk to for once.”

“You’re usually alone?”

“Sometimes.” He brushed his hand down Roach’s coat. “I have Roach.”

“I’m sure he’s a great company.”

“You failed to mention him last night.”

“Oh, I apologize. I should’ve started it like this; I have a kid, wanna fuck?”

“Not what I meant.” He chuckled. “We talked last night; I figured he  might come up then.”

“No, I just keep him away from everything else, where he belongs.”

“Why chose…” He paused. “Chose this line of work?”

“Because I have no husband, and I own no land…. I have to provide and this allows me to be a mother and work while he sleeps.” Your face teamed with heat. No one ever cared how you had come to be a wench, just which room and how much. This was new. And the look on his chiseled face was genuine interest. “Though you think it’s a valley of plenty… I can assure you it is not for me.”

“I understand, finding work can be…” He paused. “Hard.”

You laughed at the unintended joke, and his pale face flushed red, “Good analogy there, witcher.”

“It was not what I meant.” His stone face was apologetic as he walked to the coop with Talstyn. He had six eggs in his basket and a grin. “What do you have there?”

“Breakfast!”

  You cooked for him, and breakfast turned into supper quicker than you expected. Talstyn was down, worn out from the day’s festivities, and for the moment, you were too. You cleared the plates from your table and poured him another glass of ale. “When are you leaving for your next adventure?” You sat across from him and gulp down on your ale.

“Kicking me out?” He cocked a brow.

“No.” You nearly choked laughing.

“Tomorrow morning.” He answered.

The room was quiet, but the tension was there. You’d been eyeing Geralt all-day, pangs of the pleasure from last night would hit you. Every time he growled or laughed, a part of you begged to hear him make other sounds. “So… it appears that we are near our farewells.”

“Pity…” Geralt moved from the table with his hand outstretched. “We should do it properly then.”

And there was no contest of his offer. You placed your hand in his, and he tugged you to his chest. The first kiss was euphoric, a burst of butterflies pushed through your body, and you were happy he’d stayed, glad that last night was not the first and last time you’d fucked the witcher. He cradled your face and stared at you once more.

“I know how to do that.” You pushed him against the wall, well he helped, there was no real way you could genuinely push the bulked man. You dropped to your knees, remembering how he seemed to like making you mewl. It was your turn now. He does not stop you from unzipping his pants a freeing his cock. Your eyes lit watching the thick veined cock; you gripped him feeling the large girth and the warmth in your hand.

“Are you scared of it?” He snickered.

But the snickered left once your mouth enveloped the crown of his cock, and your tongue swiped the salty precum that dripped out. There was a guttural moan that poured from him before you engulfed him all. His hands went flush against the wall as you started to move. You sucked, taking him to the back of your throat until he flinched and then stroked him. He tasted sweet and salty, a mixture you enjoyed.

His hands webbed your hair, guiding his cock further into your throat until you nearly gagged and then back out again. The pace was steady, deep strokes of winding hips, and you felt yourself growing wet from him. “Y/N.” He murmured.

You don’t answer, only pull him from your mouth with a popping sound and look up to him with lust-filled eyes.

“Fuck.” He groaned. What a sight? You wished you could see it yourself, you on your knees in front of the Witcher, basically begging to be fucked. It was a demand nearly the way your eyes pleaded to be fucked. Geralt lifted you from the ground and placed his lips on yours. “How do you want me?”

Your smile was wide as you slip from your dress and bend over, placing your hands on the bed. “Why are you over there?” You whispered.

“Just admiring, this plentiful valley.”

You burst into laughter. “That was corny, witcher.”

“Maybe.” The grin covered his face, and he took his shirt off and made his way over to you, and his hand slapped down on your ass, the hum of the sting makes your pussy clench. “Is this what you want?” He whispered as he dips a single finger into you.

You braced yourself for his intrusion, you would think after three rounds you’d be used to the feeling of being full of him, but you weren’t. He eased into you pushing your body forward, and you inhaled sharply, mouth open and eyes closed. He picked you up and started to fuck you. “Oh hell,” You rasped.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He murmured. His hips bounce from your ass with each stroke, and for some reason, he felt deeper every time he did. His hand wrapped around your waist and placed two fingers on your clit, causing you to fall on the bed with your ass arched and ready for him. He began to thrust quicker, barely controlling his chaotic state. “How you sound when I’m inside you…”

The words made you pussy clench, and then he stroked your clit again and pushed your legs farther apart. “Shit… Geralt.”

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbled against your back, and he slammed into you again. “Say my name again.” He commanded. The fresh air blew over your back as he stood and gripped your hips and pulled them to him. Your body jerked, the beginning of a feeling you’d grown to love. “Say.” He thrust into you, emphasizing the word. “It.”

“Geralt.”  You gripped the sheets, your head was light, and you were short of breath. He continued to fuck into you madly. ��Oh fuck, Geralt.”

The snap of his thurst filled the room, followed by the moving of the bed a foot and Geralt falling into you and going deeper.  So, fucking deep. You winded your hips coaxing him to fuck you slowly. You were shuddering.

“I could do this every day.” He whispered. Geralt rolled over staying inside of you and allowing your legs to drape over his, he laid back on the pillow, rubbing the swollen bud over and over. Then he starts again, a riveting pace. “Every morning, every fucking night.” He added. The words caused your heart to swell and perhaps triggered the flood of pleasure that coursed through your body.

 You weren’t going to sleep with him tonight. You needed to get home and back to Talstyn. You wait until he’s asleep and dress quietly. The day was fantastic, the first time you felt safe going places with Talstn, the first time you’d seen your son smile over someone that wasn’t his dead father. But reality had set in; everything was perfect. But that was not your life, and you had to go. You took the leather bag of orens from your belt and put it in his sack. Whatever this was, you refused to let it go further. In a few months, you’d have to move, start over, and it would be easier to not be with him.

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[theartofbeinganerd]

prompt: it's really, really sad, but it got me thinking- daisy taking Evie in after FitzSimmons (oh god it hurts to say this) ...die? And Evie is a teenager, and loves science, but also loves field work (like a mini coulson) and Daisy trains her and the team looks after her? ugh it makes me sad but you could write it so well!

So writing this got me a bit Emotional and I really hope I did the idea justice - I wanted to try and show her relationships with the team while also showing that she’s healing, but it was getting loooong so...hopefully it’s okay?

(Also, as stated in the prompt, there’s obviously implied character death.)

(Ao3)

-

“Blow out the candle,Evelyn, you can do it!”

“See? Like this – it’seasy… Oops…”

“Ugh Fitz!”

“I’m sorry! We’ll justrelight…or Evie can tear into the cake, which she already seems to be doing.That’s my girl right there!”

Evelyn let out a watery laugh as the image on the screenshifted to show her one-year-old self with fistfuls of cake and a big,toothless grin on her icing-covered face. “Ohdear…” Her mother, lips pressed together in an attempt to hide heramusement, stepped into the frame then, a napkin at the ready, but then shesighed and let out a little laugh. “Well,I suppose it is her birthday.”

Her father appeared then as well, squatting until he waslevel with Evelyn’s highchair. “You gonnashare, Evie?” When she immediately squealed in delight and shoved a handfulof squashed cake into his face, a round of laughter went up in the backgroundof the video. “Ah yes, thank yousweetheart.”

“Well, you did ask forit,” her mother pointed out, not even trying to hold back her giggles asshe attempted to wipe away the mess on her father’s face.

Her parents began to playfully bicker then, and Evelyn neverused to think it was possible to feel simultaneously so warm and happy, and yetso broken and empty, but now it was a mixture of feeling she was intimatelyfamiliar with. In this video, they were all so carefree and happy and thingswere so good…

They’d had no idea that everything would end up going soterribly wrong in the future, that one day, Evelyn would be curled on her bed withonly videos and pictures left.

“Evelyn?”

Sniffling back her tears at the call from outside her door,Evelyn quickly paused the video and shut her laptop. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Daisy entered, a big smile on her face– but it faded at the sight of the drying tears on Evelyn’s cheeks, the laptopsitting in front of her. Sighing, she perched on the edge of the mattress,reaching out to thumb away the remaining tears. “Hey, no tears today, alright?It’s your sixteenth birthday! Aren’t you supposed to be bugging me to get yourlicense or something? I bet if you asked, Papa Phil would let you drive Lola.”

“I don’t want to,” Evelyn answered flatly, shaking her head.

Daisy was quiet a moment as she closed her eyes and took acouple of deep breaths. “Evie, I…I know your birthdays are…difficult for younow, but…I’m trying, okay? I knew your parents pretty well, and I know they’dwant me to make today as good for you as I possibly can, so that’s what I’m doing.But…but if you really want me to, I’ll send everyone home, and I’ll watch everysingle one of those old home videos with you and cry while we stuff our faceswith birthday cake.”

Finally, Evelyn cracked a smile, shaking her head to declinethe offer. “Thanks Aunt Daisy, but…Mum and Dad would hate that, wouldn’t they? Theywouldn’t want me to be sad on mybirthday…especially not about them. They’d getit, but they’d want more for me.”

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed softly, “they would.”

So, with that in mind, Evelyn quickly tamed her at timesunmanageable curls into a bun, and followed Daisy to where everyone wasapparently waiting on her in the common area of SHIELD’s main base, whereEvelyn spent most of her time these days.

“Oh, before I forget,” Daisy said as they headed through thehalls, “Jax wasn’t able to make it, but he says Happy Birthday.”

Evelyn fought down the surge of disappointment – if anyoneunderstood how she felt, it was Jaxon Johnson, Daisy’s adoptive son. His motherhad been on Daisy’s team of Secret Warriors years ago, but when a mission hadclaimed her life, she’d all-but begged Daisy on her death bed to take care ofJaxon. He’d been just four at the time, and Daisy had ended up raising him asher own until she’d felt he was ready to know about his mother’s painful story– it was how Evelyn and Jaxon had grown up almost like siblings.

However, he’d turned eighteen just a few months ago, and asper their agreement, Daisy had sent him to the Cocoon to receive and adapt tohis Inhuman powers. As such, they hadn’t seen each other since then, and it’dbeen hard not having him to talk to or lean on – especially now.

“But hey,” she went on brightly, elbowing Evelyn lightly inthe ribs, “Uncle Mack and tía Yo-Yo are here, so you’ve gotFrankie and Josie still.”

That brought a smile to Evelyn’sface; she wasn’t as close with Mack and Elena’s children, but she and Frankiewere only six months apart, so they’d been friends practically since they wereborn. “I hope Frankie knows that I’m gonna kick his ass at Mario Kart.”

Daisy snorted at that. “Honestly, thefact that they’re still making those games is completely ridiculous.” Theyreached the common area then, and she sobered, catching Evelyn’s elbow beforeshe could enter. “Just…do your best, okay? Today’s about you, not any of us.”

Evelyn took a deep breath, nodding inunderstanding and forcing a smile regardless as Daisy led the way into theroom.

The party had everything: cake andballoons and a pile of presents, Coulson’s corny jokes and May’s fondeye-rolls, Daisy’s contagious excitement, Mack’s bear hugs and Elena’s entertainingstories, Frankie’s quiet comfort and Josie’s childish giggles.

But, all Evelyn could seem to seewere the two people that should’ve been there more than anything else, and weren’t.

-

Having had enough celebrating for the day, Evelyn hadfinally managed to flee to the lab, and could breathe a sigh of relief once shewas in amongst the bubbling flasks and messily spread out blueprints. Shepulled her lab coat off its hook and slid it on, going straight to her assignedstation.

There had been much speculation while she’d been growing up onwhich area of science (if one at all) she’d specialize in. But, neither of herparents had been willing to give up pushing their own area of expertise, soEvelyn had ended up being something of a chameleon in the lab. She could easilyswitch between multiple projects, and even complete quite a few by herself; shewas well-versed in chemistry, physics, biology, technology, and a few otherodds and ends – there wasn’t one field she was more skilled in than others, andenjoyed each of them equally.

And much like her parents, the lab was her safe, happyplace. It was strange, because being there reminded her of her parents morethan any other place – but it was also where she felt most connected to them,so the ache in her chest was a…good one, in a way.

In the lab, it was almost as though they were still therewith her, as silly (and logically impossible) as it sounded.

However, the happiness didn’t last long, given that she’dapparently been followed when she’d fled her party.

“Evelyn?”

Swearing under her breath, Evelyn released a sigh and liftedher safety goggles to the top of her head, turning on her stool to meetCoulson’s gaze. “Yeah?”

For a beat, he studied her, then he gave her a small smileand apologized, “I’m sorry if that was all a bit…much. Daisy was just excited.Sixteen’s a pretty big milestone, after all.”

“I know.” Against her will, her tone came out flat, and notwanting to make Coulson feel bad, she quickly forced cheer into her voice andsaid, “I just didn’t want to let my projects go by the wayside, even if it ismy birthday. The world isn’t gonna save itself, you know?”

He chuckled quietly and commented, “Well know, that allsounds pretty familiar.”

She was sure thathe’d meant to make her smile with the comparison drawn between her and herparents, but it immediately had tears springing up in her eyes. Hastily, tokeep him from seeing them, she bowed her head.

Coulson was pretty perceptive (decades as an agent and theformer director of SHIELD would do that), however. “Evelyn,” he promptedquietly.

She swallowed roughly, taking a moment to attempt to controlthe urge to cry before she lifted her head to show she was listening.

He reached out to clasp her shoulder, and told hersincerely, “I need you to know that I am sorry every single day for what happened with your parents. I will neverforgive myself for sending them out there, for putting them in that situation,and most importantly, for taking them from you.”

Evelyn tried, shereally did, but it only took moments for her walls to crumble, and then she wasbreaking down in sobs. Coulson quickly stepped forward to embrace her, and thetiny part of her that had resented the man she’d always considered like agrandfather finally began to heal.

-

Bright and early the a few days later, Evelyn, stillyawning, was summoned to the training room by May. There hadn’t been anyexplanation given (not that she’d expected one), but Evelyn figured that Maywas just using this opportunity to see how rusty she’d gotten since they’d lastsparred, and after taking some time to try and force the raw emotions back downfrom the surface now that her birthday was over, she was more than ready for adistraction.

Plus, she knew May was in for a surprise – Daisy had spenthours upon hours working with Evelyn onher training, sharpening her skills for the field. She felt that, maybe, shemight even be able to take down May herself now.

“Alright, I’m here,” Evelyn called, pressing the back of herhand against her mouth to smother another yawn. She’d always been a latesleeper (a trait given by her father, of course), but she also despised theidea of being anything but on time (like her mother). Unfortunately, the twotraits were often at odds with each other, like today. “We sparring?”

May was standing in the middle of the training mats, hairtied back and workout clothes on, so the question wasn’t exactly necessary.

Or perhaps, it was,given May’s answer.

“Daisy seems to think you’re ready to start in the field,”she explained, backing up a few steps until they were facing each other acrossthe mats. “But I told her I would be the judge of that.”

Evelyn arched her eyebrows in surprise, but she didn’t evenhave another moment to react before May had lunged at her. “Whoa!” she cried, leaping to the side toavoid being taken down. She sprung back up in an instant, ready this time tododge May’s punch, then the following roundhouse kick.

After years of training with Daisy (and occasionally withMay herself), Evelyn should’ve been able to hold her own – but it was onlyminutes later that she made the wrong move, tripped herself up, and then foundherself with her back pressed to the mat.

“You’re unfocused,” May stated plainly as she got back toher feet and held her hands up defensively, obviously preparing for anotherattack.

Evelyn, however, forced herself up into a sitting positionand curled her hands in frustrated fists. “Yeah, I know.”

“You won’t be allowed into the field in this shape.”

Inhaling a shuddery breath, Evelyn jumped back up, not waitinganother moment before rushing right at May. In the next moment, her back washitting the mats once more. Hard.

Evelyn laid there for a moment, her jaw quivering withpent-up emotion as she stared blankly at the ceiling above her. Then, May’sface came into her view as she squatted next to her. “Evelyn,” she said lowly,“you’ve been better trained than this.”

“I know,” she whispered, her bottom lip beginning to trembleas hot tears poured down the sides of her face. “I just…I’m not…I’m never goingto be what they were, you know? For SHIELD, or for any of you, and…and I justfeel like I’m this pale comparison and all you guys were left with but it’s notenough and – and I just wanna make them proud but –”

“And you do,” May interrupted, her tone firm and leaving noroom for arguments. “You don’t need to do a damn thing to make them proud,Evelyn. Your parents were proud of you from the moment you were born, andlikely even before that. Yes, they were some of the brightest minds SHIELD had,but though you could, no one expects youto take that place; we expect you to make your own.”

Evelyn let out a quiet, choked sob, her eyes slipping closedas she admitted softly, “I just missthem and…and I always feel lost and like I’m failing them and I don’t know whatto do to fix it… I don’t…I don’t think I canfix it.”

She didn’t respond at first, though knowing May, Evelynhalf-expected that there wouldn’t even bea response. Eventually, though, she started quietly, “I watched your parents gothrough hell, for years. There weretimes when they felt as you do now, felt that things were too awful, too brokento fix. But, every time, they managed to get through, to heal the wounds they’dbeen dealt, together.”

Of course Evelyn knew that her parents had been throughterrible things (though not in great detail, no matter how many times she’dpestered Daisy for the full story), but that was just the thing, wasn’t it?“Yeah, together. Me? I’m just…me,alone.”

May scoffed, and taken aback, Evelyn opened her eyes to findher arching a disbelieving eyebrow down at her. “If you truly believe you’realone, then I think you need to have another look around, Evelyn.”

-

Finally, after spending a bit of time working with May andeventually receiving her approval, Daisy had allowed Evelyn into the field withher on an “easy mission”. It was just a simple in-and-out, collecting an 084that was said to have destructive powers.

Of course, the local government wasn’t too keen to hand itover to SHIELD (their reputation had never fully healed from the HYDRAtakeover, nor the damage done during the Framework debacle), so Evelyn got toactually take down guys twice her size with Quake,an honest-to-god superhero.

But, while Daisy was preoccupied taking out their big guns,Evelyn saw an opportunity to slip through the defenses and retrieve the 084.Wanting to prove herself and make Daisy (and her parents) proud, she took theopportunity, disappearing while Daisy wasn’t looking.

Keeping her ICER at the ready, Evelyn dashed through thedarkened factory the soldiers had been protecting, until she caught sight of aneerie orange light in the back of the building and headed straight for it. The084 was surprisingly small for the amount of damage it had reportedly done,oval-shaped and made of a reddish metal.

She couldn’t waitto figure out how it worked.

But, first, she laid her ICER aside and pulled on a pair ofgloves before carefully wrapping the 084 up in a protective cloth, just placingthe object in her backpack when she heard it.

“Put your hands up!” a heavily-accented voice cried, and asEvelyn automatically complied, she twisted around to find a trio of gunspointed right at her.

Oh bloody hell.

If there had been only one of them, she’d maybe have been able to take him outwithout risking getting shot, but three?She wasn’t May!

The sound of guns cocking had her squeezing her eyes shut,but a moment later, the room echoed with theirscreams and her eyes flew back open. She found Daisy, hand up and eyes narrowedas she glowered at the men, now crumpled in a heap up against the wall.

“Thanks,” Evelyn breathed in relief, taking a couple ofmoments to calm the rapid beat of her heart, then finished placing the 084 inher backpack and shouldering it.

Daisy was suspiciously quiet as they fled the factory, andonce they’d returned to their quinjet, Evelyn opened her mouth to ask if shewas alright – but before she got the chance, Daisy answered the question forher.

“Evelyn Margaret Fitzsimmons!” She was visibly shaking,though Evelyn couldn’t tell if it was leftover concern, or a hell of a lot ofanger. “I can’t believe you’d…” Thenshe hissed out a sharp breath and muttered, “Actually, of course I believe you’d sacrifice yourself like that. It’s whatyour parents always did, isn’t it? God!”

She dragged a hand over her face, and Evelyn winced,shifting awkwardly. Daisy hadn’t ever really had much reason or need to bestern with her, continuing to stay more like an aunt even after her parents haddied – seeing her angry was new and strange and frankly terrifying.

When Daisy dropped her hand, her eyes were narrowed, buttellingly watery. “I lost thembecause of their goddamn martyr complexes, Evelyn. I can’t lose you to it too,okay? They trusted me to take care of you, and I won’t fail them again.”

It was at that moment that Evelyn finally realized that she wasn’t the only person who missed herparents fiercely, who felt as though she was constantly failing them, as thoughshe wasn’t quite living up to their memory.

The guilt hit her hard,like a brick settling low in her stomach, and she wondered why it had neveroccurred to her before now.

As she wordlessly strode across the space between them towrap Daisy up in a tight hug, Evelyn told herself that it was time. She neededto finally deal with the pain and the anger and grief and try to move on,before all of it consumed her and she lost herself in it.

-

Some weeks later, the lab had been abandoned for the day,the chemicals and supplies had been put away and the lights turned off – but itwasn’t quite empty yet.

Up against the wall, nearly hidden among the lab benches andshelves, Evelyn was curled up around her folded legs. Being in the lab atnight…it was different than being there during the day, when everyone wasbustling around and there was always work to be done. At night, she could sitthere and squint and try to imagine what it’d looked like when her parents hadbeen alive. She could try to picture them working side-by-side at one of thebenches, or bickering steadily as they moved about the room, or sharing thoseloving smiles they’d only had for each other from their separate work stations.

For a moment, a smile ticked up her lips at the corners –

But then the images faded, to be replaced with a cold, emptylab and an equally empty heart.

“Evie?”

Startled, Evelyn wiped away the few tears that had fallen,glancing up to find Jaxon standing in the doorway of the lab, his hair shaggierand the muscles of his arms more defined than they had been the last time she’dseen him.

“Jax?” she greeted in surprise, giving a disbelieving laugh.“What are you doing here? Aunt Daisy didn’t say anything about you coming hometonight.”

“I just got in,” he admitted, then nodded at the floorbeside her. “Room for one more?”

“Yeah, of course.” She quickly scooted over to make moreroom for him, and Jaxon sat down with a sigh, resting his forearms on his bentknees. “Sorry I couldn’t be here for…”

Evelyn shrugged, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears shewas tired of shedding and playfully nudging his shoulder with hers. “It’salright ‘cause you’re here now.”

Jaxon smiled warmly, nudging her shoulder in return, beforehe asked gently, “What’s on your mind, Evie? When I came in, you seemed amillion miles away.”

She released a heavy sigh, her shoulders rising and fallingwith it. “The usual, I suppose. I don’t know, I just…I feel like the more timepasses, I’m just going to…to start forgetting them, you know? I mean, I’mtrying so hard to move on and healand live my life but…but I can’t if that means forgetting them and leaving themin the past. I can’t do that, Jax.”

“No one’s saying you have to,” he insisted softly. “Yourparents are a part of you, of who you are, and that’s not ever going to change,is it?” When Evelyn gave a small shake of her head, he went on, “You have fourteen years of memories with them,and that’s more than a lot of people get – and if I know you, you’re gonnatreasure every one of them for the rest of your life.”

Evelyn cracked a tiny smile, dropping her head back gentlyto rest against the wall. “Yeah, I know. I just…I’d like just one more memory, I guess. I don’t wantto imagine that those fourteen years…that that’s all I’m ever going to get andit’s just all behind me now. I suppose it’s silly, isn’t it?”

“Naw, I don’t think so.” Jaxon went quiet for a moment, thenhe turned one of his hands over and held it out to her, palm-up. “Hey, I’ve gotsomething to show you.”

Frowning, Evelyn lifted her head to peer at his offeredhand, then his sincere expression. “What?” she asked warily.

“Aren’t you at all curious?” he asked, a grin playing on hislips. “I was at the Cocoon for months.”

“Your powers!” shegasped as she finally got it; she’d been so caught up in the fear of losingwhat she had left of her parents if she moved on, that she’d all-but forgotten why Jaxon hadn’t been home. “Of courseI’m curious! What are they?”

Instead of offering a verbal answer, Jaxon just arched aneyebrow and waved his open hand a bit. Rolling her eyes fondly, Evelyn sighedin exaggerated exasperation and placed her hand within his. His fingers curledmore tightly around her hand, and he requested softly, “Close your eyes.”

Evelyn shot him a curious look, but she trusted him, so shedid as he asked. For a moment, nothing happened, and she shifted slightly,about to accuse him of playing a joke on her. But, then, suddenly the darknessbehind her eyelids was replaced with the crystal-clear image of a tiny, darkroom with a screen on the back wall, and in front of it was…

Her parents.

They looked far younger than she remembered them, almostlike how they looked in all of Daisy’s old pictures, except this wasn’t apicture – they were talking in Daisy had always lovingly referred to as“science speak”, something about an audio file…?

“What is happening?”Evelyn hissed to Jaxon, too afraid to open her eyes and allow the image to fade,but in desperate need of answers.

“I collect memories,” he explained in a whisper, “and then Ican project them. Mom’s excited about the field prospects, but we both agreedthat there were other important uses.”

“Then these are…”

“Mom’s memories, yeah, from the moment they met. Ever wantedto watch your parents fall in love?”

Evelyn gave a little laugh, wetness already gathering alongthe rims of her closed eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, squeezing his hand inoverwhelming gratitude as she watched her parents with the first working prototypeof what they’d then called ‘the Night-Night Gun’.

And even as the tears fell steadily down her cheeks, therewas a brilliant smile on Evelyn’s face as she was given her parents back, ifonly for a little bit.

[whatsgodgottodowithreligion-blog]

Behind Blue Eyes

As anyone who has read my book, What’s GOD Got To Do With It? knows, I am an abuse survivor. While I don’t go into specific detail about that inside those pages, I have dealt with and struggled with the ramifications of this abuse (physical, verbal, sexual) for the majority of my adult life. In fact, one of the more painful sidebars that came with my decision to not self-medicate with alcohol in 1995 was that I had to address the post-traumatic stress this abuse was plaguing me with, even after years of therapy which allowed me to see clearly the emotional and psychological impact this had on me as an adult.

For years, I wondered (or rather, looked for a logical explanation) as to why, out of seven offspring, my Dad was particularly mean and cruel to me - why he seemed to single me out for a lot of his rage and anger from as early on as I can remember. One day, during my teens, a seemingly innocent trip down memory lane served to provide that missing piece of the puzzle. My brothers, sister and me were looking at photos in the family album, taken during our younger years. I remember looking at a picture of me taken in kindergarten, all happy and smiles (thanks to the photographer telling me corny jokes while he shot the images) in my houndstooth blazer, white dress shirt and tie, when my sister remarked “You think that’s a cute picture of you - you should’ve seen yourself as a baby.......you had the cutest blue eyes!”

Now I know, there’s a common belief that all kids are born with blue eyes (and most eye color changes in the weeks after birth), but apparently, that blue eye gene did not show up in the six siblings which preceded me, nor in my kid brother who was born a year later. What’s more, it was several months before my eye color did indeed change from blue to brown. This would seem like a minuscule and trivial detail, except for one thing: my Dad, who was a simple Southern man with less than a fifth grade education (he had to drop out of school to tend chores on his grandmother’s farm after his birth mother abandoned him) was not educated enough to understand the dynamics of recessive gene traits. Put another way - if you were a country bumpkin, and five of your kids had your eye color, but the sixth child came out with blue eyes, what would you likely conclude?

Unlike anyone else in my family, I realized the conclusion that my Dad had to have drawn was completely logical, in absence of any evidence refuting it - that is, that I was not his biological son. Worse, it meant that he was staring into the eyes of his wife’s adulterous behavior. Nevermind the fact that my Dad wasn’t exactly faithful to my mom, he had to be worried that if anyone noticed the discrepancy in eye color, they too, would draw the conclusion that ‘his woman’ was a two-timing whore. To this day, I’m not entirely sure he ever believed that I was ‘of his loins’, a fact reinforced by the multiple times he said “You’re no son of mine!” to me, and only to me, even as a brown-eyed teenager and adult.

This meant that even within the family dynamic I was born into, I was left with the feeling that I was different - that I was not like my other siblings. Indeed, not only that, but that I did not belong, that I was an intruder, or in the eyes of my father, I represented a significant threat to his manhood, and by extension, his self concept. So before I ever learned that my skin color would be looked upon with the same level of distrust and suspicion, I was subjected to unjust ostracizing in an environment where I should have felt loved, appreciated and protected.

In elementary school,  I always looked forward to “career day” - when adults of various professions would come in and talk to us about the jobs they did, why they did them, and what they enjoyed about them. This included, without fail, a visit from both a fireman and a policeman. At least in my day, kids (especially boys) looked up to both cops and firemen as heroes - brave guys who risked their lives to save others, keep the communities they served safe and protected, and got to wear cool uniforms that elicited both admiration, awe and respect. The message (or should I say slogan) that we were told repeatedly was “Remember kids - the policeman is your friend. So always be polite and respectful, and always obey what an officer tells you to do.”

And so, while I had my sights set on riding a red fire engine and having a cute Dalmatian by my side, I did believe what I was told, and learned to respect the police, and had the mindset that the policeman was indeed a friend I could trust and turn to. But something happened along the way between the ages of sixteen and onward that sent a very distinct counter-message that while I may believe the policeman was my friend, he had an entirely different view of me.

The first significant episode happened to me when I was in my twenties: I was hanging out in the lobby of a movie theatre, talking with my friend Howard, when suddenly, three cops burst in with steadfast intent. While standing there with my friend, the three cops suddenly advanced on us (or more accurately, advanced upon me), and proceeded to throw me up against the wall dividing the lobby seats, with two of the officers frisking me while the other stood by. No advance warnings were given, nor was there any explanation as to why I was being ‘singled out’ over my white companion beside me. I calmly and respectfully asked (repeatedly) what I did wrong, and why I was being searched - the one answer I got was “Be quiet” as they continued patting me down, in search of what I had no idea. A few minutes into this episode, an elderly woman entered the theatre - she noticed what was going on, and noticed me being frisked. It was only until the woman remarked to the cops “No.....that’s not him” that the cops stopped their frisking/detaining of me and let me go. They then proceeded to exit the theatre with the old lady in tow.

Without explaining why they did what they did. Without so much as an apology for frisking “the wrong man.” I was humiliated in front of my friend, and had my dignity stripped from me, but I did not deserve any apology in their eyes. When I have recalled this episode in the past, many folks responded (or should I say rationalized) this intrusion with, “Well, they were just doing their job.” An unidentified black man likely snatched an old white lady’s purse, so the police went into the first place they surmised he would likely hide, and decided to frisk whatever black males they encountered inside the premises. Seems perfectly logical to me. What doesn’t seem logical is the fact that we, as a society act as if the police can never be wrong, never make a mistake, or ever have anything to be apologetic for. That demoralizing episode became a rude awakening to me that 1. The policeman is not my friend - he considers me an adversary/suspect guilty until proven innocent, and 2. I can be as respectful and compliant as I was taught to be in school, but I would still be treated as a second-class citizen, and should expect as much whenever I am in the presence of law enforcement.

There’s been a lot of discussion lately about racial bias, police brutality and excessive, deadly force. Those who protest the disparity in how blacks and whites are treated by police are all too often met with derision and criticism. When the Black Lives Matter movement began as a response to unexplained instances of why unarmed black men were being shot to death by policemen who suffered no outside investigations or repercussions, the phrase “Black Lives Matter” was rebutted with “Blue Lives Matter” - as if the two were somehow in conflict with each other. Whatever I may think about the radicalization within BLM, or how their message has become distorted by the extremist voices coming from inside that protest group, the fact is it’s hard to believe that black lives really do matter in the eyes of many, though not all in law enforcement.

But even more disturbing than that is the emergence of black conservative voices who seek to justify racial profiling and excessive force as being necessary elements in the ever-increasing dangerousness of being a cop these days. To rationalize the death of an unarmed black man being shot in the back and killed by a policeman with “Well, he shouldn’t have been running away” or “If he wasn’t guilty of something, he would have listened and obeyed orders” is sad and distorted enough coming from the mouths of clueless Caucasians, but to have black conservatives echo the same sentiments is chilling. When San Francisco quarterback Colin Kaepernick decided to “take a knee” during the National Anthem as a sign of silent protest, the blowback was disproportionately hostile: hearing people like CRTV’s Dineen Borelli and The Blacksphere’s Kevin Jackson (above) attack Kaepernick for his righteous anger over racism and police brutality I find particularly disturbing. Jackson has gone one step further: producing a documentary entitled Bleeding Blue: Behind The Badge, Under The Gun, whose objective is to shed light on both how dangerous it is for cops out there on the street, and how the “leftist media” continues to fan the flames of racial discord, instead of holding the black community accountable for the lawless criminals that are being coddled as “victims of their environment.”

No one would argue that the police have it tough out there, and that being a policeman is one of the most dangerous occupations one could have, but it was tough being a cop when I was in grade school - so what exactly has changed? More criminals with guns? Stronger narcotics on the streets and in the veins of those committing crimes? Public apathy? I’m not sure that things have changed in terms of danger to policemen as much as our 24/7, as-it-happens news cycle has been feeding us a daily diet of crime and punishment. When the average white person watches the news, and sees the majority of crimes being committed by blacks - specifically black men, what underlying message is implanted inside their minds? If racial bias exists within society (which it does), it must certainly manifest itself among police officers - but officers are (or should be) trained to discern what is reasonable suspicion and what is a knee-jerk reaction to the presence of black men on their beat.

And when excessive force is used, there needs to be accountability, period. Every time a cop is caught on camera using excessive, unnecessary force (which results in the death of a black man), and an internal review exonerates the policeman of any wrongdoing, you are reinforcing the idea that black lives do not matter. Black conservatives want to cloak themselves in the misguided belief that only “thugs” have deadly encounters with police, and so whatever fate befalls them is justified and of their own making. This conveniently ignores the fact that there are countless incidents where armed white men brandishing deadly weapons manage to be peacefully apprehended by law enforcement, and do not result in the use of excessive force or the death of a suspect. So why is it okay for an unarmed man to be shot in the back and killed? How can one watch videos on the news or Youtube of unarmed black men being shot like wild dogs and not feel a tinge of horror? Why do we hold the police to a higher standard, even when that trust is betrayed by their actions? Why no outrage over the increased militarization (and combat mindset) of law enforcement, which perpetuates an “us versus them” mentality, presuming all suspects guilty without benefit of due process?

Finally, how did we get to a place where respect for law enforcement means looking the other way when rouge cops act more like vigilantes than peace officers? Frank Serpico was more than the subject of a 1973 Sidney Lumet film starring Al Pacino: he was a living, breathing embodiment of a “good cop.’ When Serpico witnessed corruption and law breaking among his fellow officers, he did not look the other way - he spoke up. You would think all good cops would have his back and support his efforts to expose the bad apples inside the NYPD, but you’d be dead wrong. The “blue wall of silence” was erected almost immediately, and Serpico was subjected to retaliatory behavior, both from his superiors and from fellow cops on the force. During his testimony before the Mayor Lindsay-appointed Knapp Commission in 1971, Serpico said:

“The problem is that the atmosphere does not yet exist, in which an honest police officer can act... without fear of ridicule or reprisal from fellow officers. Police corruption cannot exist unless it is at least tolerated. Therefore, the most important result that can come from these hearings... is a conviction by police officers that the department will change.”

Serpico retired from the force a month after receiving The Medal Of Honor in June of 1972, and has been an outspoken advocate for police accountability to this day. Serpico’s bravery is, unfortunately, eclipsed by the fact that such courage is rarely acknowledged or validated by the world in which we live - indeed, the “blue wall of silence” continues to infect police departments across America, where good cops look the other way, when they should be speaking out. Even when a fellow officer uses excessive force; even when an officer taunts or harasses a suspect, barely containing their racially-motivated contempt. Even when an officer ramps up a situation to a deadly conclusion, that should have been de-escalated to a peaceful apprehension of the suspect. Even when a shooting is not justified, under any circumstances, given the particular circumstances of that incident.

When my Dad would beat me, he’d often yell, “You need to respect me, boy!” Sometimes, I would have the temerity to respond, “That respect has to be earned”, either internally or out loud. Blind respect to authority serves no one, especially if such authority is misapplied, abused or otherwise diminished by a lack of compassion, fairness or justice. Black conservatives and self-righteous white folk can look upon all suspects as “guilty as charged” (as the majority of comment threads on social media platforms would suggest), and psychologically distance themselves from  the criminal ‘other’, but the presumption of innocence and the tenets of due process are vital parts of a civilized society. In his book, The Divide, investigative journalist Matt Tiabbi exposed the fact that cops in New York City were arresting young black males for “jaywalking” as a way to preemptively instill them into the criminal justice system - the presumption being that sooner or later they’d end up breaking some significant law, and that this tactic was an effective way of streamlining that process. Were all males, regardless of race being arrested in this manner? No. 

Sometimes, I think about how different the world would be if I could view it from a ‘lighter perspective’ - alas, such daydreaming is futile. Like it or not, God brought me into the world as a brown-skinned black man, and this world has separate and unequal guidelines on how I should be perceived and treated. Black conservatives can delude themselves into thinking such prejudice or brutality only comes to those “who deserve it”, but from personal experience. I know better. “No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man, to be the sad man” better than I.