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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

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if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

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blackwoolncrown · 5 years ago

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”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

not

fucking

talk

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

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Dream SMP Recap (May 19/2021) - Heads of DreamXD

Foolish hires Punz to help find Snowchester’s missing nuke, DreamXD arrives at L’Sandburg to smite people and drop some heads, and the Badlands gather to discuss war on Foolish but end up smoking “weednip” with him instead.

Never a dull day at Foolish’s summer home.

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VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Ranboo

Awesamdude

Badboyhalo

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- Foolish works on building a giant pyramid at his summer home

- Punz logs on and Foolish tells him he has a task for him that he will pay highly for

- Foolish meets Punz in the Nether and Punz takes out his blue shulker to show it off. They go to the summer home

- Foolish tells him that there is something very dangerous missing, and Punz can’t tell anyone about this. Snowchester lost something that rhymes with “buke.” However, this might be too dangerous for Punz to handle

- He tells Punz that if he finds the “buke,” to eat it. Foolish finally gives in and tells Punz that it’s a nuke, and they need to find it

- Punz agrees to the task and asks for Foolish’s shulker as collateral, but Foolish refuses. Then Punz asks to own a building at the summer home. Foolish offers to build something

- Punz kills Foolish’s pet cat for calling him an idiot, then asks for a giant chain, then a giant tower with a chain on it. Punz says goodbye and leaves

- Antfrost later arrives at the summer home to tell Foolish that L’Sandburg is not being given up no matter what Bad said. It is now unsold

- Foolish offers to pay Antfrost diamonds for L’Sandburg. Antfrost refuses, saying perhaps Foolish could help him with the animal sanctuary builds. Foolish offers catnip but Antfrost already has some, throwing him some “weednip”

- Ant suggests Foolish gives the weednip a try. It may or may not be an illegal substance on the SMP, and Foolish threatens to report Ant to the higher authorities

- Ant takes some weednip and his eyes turn red. Foolish asks if he was ever even under the Egg’s influence at all, or just baked out of his mind. To which Ant responds, maybe both

- They then start making fun of Punz and discuss his Soundcloud rap career

- Later, Bad and Foolish squabble with each other in game chat for a bit

- Foolish meets Bad at the L’Sandburg tower and Bad asks for a diamond block as a toll. Foolish refuses and they argue with each other about the toll. Foolish tries to argue that he shouldn’t have to pay as summer home owner

- Bad jumps down from the tower and starts building a stone tollgate across the road. Foolish gets mad, saying Bad is violating their agreement

- Bad gets angry and goes over to a nearby small, empty island away from the main area and places a sign claiming it for L’Sandburg, titling it the L’Sandburg Nature Repository. Foolish insists it belongs to him too, but Bad says the first block placed there was his

Foolish: “Anywhere the sand touches the sea is mine!”

...

Foolish: “Bad, I have never so desperately wanted to kill someone in a long time.”

- DreamXD logs on and appears before them at the island. Foolish orders him to smite Bad. Bad and Foolish start battling while DreamXD flies away

- They go over to L’Sandburg to find that DreamXD has made a crevice at the border of it going all the way down. XD soon seals it up

- Bad and Foolish start throwing chicken and steak to DreamXD as an offering, telling him to smite the other. Lightning strikes where XD stands. They wonder whether it was Bad’s food or Foolish’s that gained his favor

- DreamXD starts smiting Bad with lightning and Bad runs away

- Foolish asks DreamXD to destroy L’Sandburg

Foolish: “Dream, you have to understand, on my own land he started building, and now he’s trying to conquer more land. I think -- right, Dream? You would understand! Dream, right? You’d understand! You don’t like when people take your own land, right? That’s ridiculous!”

- DreamXD gets rid of the entire tower for a moment but puts it back

- Foolish asks for a second shulker box and DreamXD smites him. Foolish quickly takes it back

- DreamXD then places a block of bedrock at L’Sandburg’s base, then gets rid of it

- Bad runs back to the island and DreamXD strikes him repeatedly with lightning, then showers him and Foolish with experience bottles

Bad: “Hey Dream. DreamXD, I just noticed something. Look at all the monuments to different deities he’s got around here...I don’t see any monuments to you. Hmmm...interesting.”

- DreamXD flies around the Temple of Undying while Foolish hurriedly tries to explain that he has a spot prepared for a DreamXD statue. Bad says the other day, Foolish told him he was going to build a different statue there

- They return to L’Sandburg and all of a sudden, DreamXD places down a green head -- his own head -- on the ground. Foolish and Bad race to pick it up and Foolish gets it

- Foolish puts the head in his Ender Chest and DreamXD places down a second head. This time, it’s Skeppy. Bad warns him not to take it or else. They fight and Bad grabs it

- The next head DreamXD puts down is Foolish’s. Foolish quickly takes that one. Then Bad’s head is placed down and they argue over who should get it, but DreamXD breaks it. Bad is sad

- Sam’s head is placed down and Foolish gets it. He boasts, and Bad says at least he got the only head that’s important to him

- DreamXD puts on Bad’s head, then places it down. This time, Bad threatens to set off TNT, but Foolish breaks the head and gets it. Bad is outraged that Foolish stole his head.

- Next is Karl’s head, and Bad gets that one

- Skeppy calls Bad and Bad tells him he’s in the middle of trying to get heads. Skeppy logs on and joins the call, shouting that he’s being held hostage. Foolish picks up Antfrost’s head

- Foolish tells Skeppy the walls are already gone and Skeppy arrives at L’Sandburg

- Foolish gets Dream’s head. They run all over the temple and Foolish grabs Puffy’s as well. Bad threatens him with TNT again. The next head to be summoned is Tommy’s

- Skeppy gets it, and Foolish starts all-out attacking him with an axe to kill him, but Skeppy puts it in the Ender Chest and Foolish stops hitting him

- Skeppy then puts on Tommy’s head and Foolish tries to bargain with them like the heads are trading cards before DreamXD summons Wilbur’s head and flies away. He comes back to tell them that he hid Wilbur’s head somewhere around the temple.

- Bad says he found it, but DreamXD starts smiting him and he admits he didn’t actually. They continue looking until Foolish finds the head. Bad has to go, but they can negotiate over the head trades later

- Foolish feels like he has won. He puts down the shulker and takes out the sandstone inside so he can store the heads away. While he’s distracted, Bad logs on, takes the shulker and logs off

- Foolish is shocked. It takes him a moment, but he remembers the deal. Bad didn’t steal from him, he stole from Ranboo. Hearing this, Bad logs back on and throws Foolish the shulker

- As a token of gratitude, Foolish gives Bad’s head back, and they part on good terms

- Sam works on building the bank

- Bad wants to set up a death trap to eliminate some of their competition. He meets Sam. Antfrost logs on to ask about it. Bad says he sent Ant a parrot with the message.

- Bad and Ant meet at L’Sandburg. Bad shows Ant the heads and tells him about DreamXD appearing. As Bad tells Ant about the heads they have, Sam arrives as well

Sam: “The Badlands, back together!”

- Sam asks why Ant’s eyes are red and Ant hands him some weednip

- Bad starts explaining the L’Sandburg deal, how he wants to turn it into a Badlands embassy. Bad tries getting the weed from Ant and Sam but it’s no use. He gives up and tells them they need to plan the war, Ant and Sam still distracted

- Ant and Sam make boxes to do weednip in. Bad explodes their boxes, then Sam and Ant go over to the tall cactus and hug it

- Next, Bad shows them the national park of L’Sandburg. Sam sees the giant pyramid Foolish is building and they swim over to it. Bad gets some weed and pushes them off the top

- Skeppy logs on and says he has a gift for Sam. Bad goes to meet him and Skeppy gives Bad Mr. Pointy back. Skeppy leaves and Bad keeps the trident for himself

- All three of them hide in a whole while Foolish logs on. Bad scolds them for using the weednip while they’re supposed to be preparing for war

- Bad climbs out of the hole and comes face to face with Foolish...but Foolish is high on weednip too. Foolish asks if this is a drug war

- Foolish greets them. His voice is echoey and he sniffed some pufferfish

- They all go over to the pyramid again

- When they get back, Bad, annoyed, throws a slowness potion on all of them. Sam gives Bad weednip and gets him to hold it in both hands, but he burns the weednip

- Bad gets all three of them into a hole in the ground and chases them through tunnels

- While Bad is in a dungeon, Skeppy calls him. Foolish says goodbye and heads off

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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azritesx3 · 4 years ago

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First Real Friend - LM & F!Reader

Description: These common white sterile walls just became a bit brighter, thanks to the Devil.

Rating: G

Warnings: None

AN: A request from a friend of a friend! Hope you feel better soon, darling! Hospitals ain't no fun! Hopefully this 'lil Lucifer fic helps you out! PS: Sorry it’s so late!!!

Request: “...something fluffy, like the reader is in the hospital and she basically lives there because of a long term illness...Lucifer comes into her room by mistake once, while looking for Chloe’s room...he looks around and sees personal items in reader’s room and realizes she’s been there for quite a while, alone, her family isn’t great, and to her surprise he starts coming everyday. He brings her little gifts and sneaks in her favorite food, and basically he just makes her feel like someone cares about, but he learns that her own family doesn’t even come to see her.”

AO3 /// Wattpad

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Lucifer strolls through the hospital doors with a large bouquet of various flowers and a confident smile on his face. He feels...good. He's never had a feeling like this before, though he supposes saving a human life would be fairly different than any erratic drug or sex. This is a soul after all, and he's just so used to torturing and using souls.

He strolls down the halls and opens the door he was looking for--

And stops.

He's not in the Detective's room, that's for sure. Her room is a plain old boring hospital room. The room he's currently standing in the doorframe of almost looks like a normal bedroom.

The patient of the room looks up from their position on a large bean bag. She cocks an eyebrow up and marks the page she left on in her book with her finger:

"Wrong room?"

"Uh…" Lucifer is baffled for a quick moment before regaining his composure, "Yes! Terribly sorry!"

The patient smiles and returns to her book, which Lucifer takes as his leave. The next room he opens is the correct one this time. He places his superior flowers with the rest of the others, then sits in the uncomfortable metal chair next to the Detective's bed side.

Lucifer watches the Detective's peaceful sleeping face, thinking back on the short time they spent together. Soon the Detective stirs awake, the two have a short talk, and Lucifer leaves before catching a serious case of IBS at the family scene playing before him.

Before leaving the hospital he stops for a minute in front of the mysterious patient's room that he intruded upon. He peeks through the slightly open blinds, taking in once more a room that looks more like a well lived in bedroom than a hospital room. He spots the patient now on her bed, sleeping. Peaceful...but…

"Hmm…"

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

Three days later

You sit at your mini dining table, eating a hearty breakfast while watching some game show entertainment. Your hospital door opens while in the middle of a bite. You look up and stop chewing at the sight of the same strange man that opened your door by mistake a few days ago.

"Lost again, pal?" You ask after swallowing. Your face has an amused look again like before.

"No. I'm here to see you, in fact." The British man smiles, holding a similar looking bouquet as he had days ago.

"Um," You're not sure what to think, "Why?"

The man huffs a laugh before strolling into the room, shutting the door behind him, "You've been on my mind for the past couple days, darling. Curiosity catches the Devil."

He places his flowers on top of a small dresser of yours nearest the window, then comes to stand next to you. He holds out his hand and smiles down at you, "Lucifer Morningstar, a pleasure."

You shake his warm hand with a smile of your own and introduce yourself. You motion to the chair across from you and he sits, "So, why is lil old me on your mind Mr. Morningstar?"

"Lucifer is fine, darling." He folds his hands together on your little eating table, "I've never seen a hospital room look like a bedroom before. Makes me think that you've been here for quite a while, and that's such a shame for such a beautiful young woman."

You sigh, like this is some kind of usual nuance for you, "Alright. Just tell me what article you're for and I'll answer your questions."

"Pardon?" Lucifer asks, confused.

"Your article?" You say pointedly, "Or whichever company my adoptive parents are trying to get in the good graces with?" When Lucifer continues to look at you puzzled, you stare at him quizzically, "That...is why you're really here isn't it? No one just decides to talk to some random hospital patient for fun."

"Well, I'm definitely not no one. I'm the Devil. Completely different spectrum."

"Uh huh...ok...totally not weird at all," you say skeptically, "So, why are you here, Lucifer?"

"Like I said before, curiosity. Is that...all right?"

You stare him in the eyes, and the man looks genuine enough. Weird, but genuine.

"Sure, I guess. Not like I'm doing anything else."

"Wonderful!" Lucifer's face instantly brightens up, and you can't help but notice his excitement and joy is contagious, "So, tell me about yourself darling, and I'll do the same!"

So, talk and talk you two did. All the way until visiting hours were long since over, and he was here in the morning!

You give him your background, a sad sap of a story. You're an abandoned baby. Left on the doorsteps of an orphanage. No information on your real parents or family. As you grew up the caretakers noticed how often you'd get sick, and how easy it was for you to get hurt. After many tests you're diagnosed with numerous things, causing a very weak immune system and fragile bones. Your caretakers believed no one would take you and you'd be stuck at the home forever. Fortunately for them, a rich couple came by and took pity on you. You thought you'd actually get a family, but that wasn't the case. This couple took you in to further increase their financing in their businesses and lives by using you as a charity. They taught you how to act and talk for the cameras and reporters, and you picked up on it quickly.

Yeah, it wasn't the best kind of life. You didn't have a normal family, but at least you were alive. The loneliness sucked at times, but you figured that's a small price to pay for staying alive and having some kind of life. It's not like your rich parents didn't do anything with you. They cared, just...not in the normal sense.

Lucifer gave you his story too. His insane story. God, angels, wars, becoming the Devil. You were starting to think he was some preacher, who just really believed. But you humored him, for he and his stories were incredibly entertaining. And who knows, maybe it was all real.

Suffice to say after that first day together, you two became fast friends and Lucifer became a very frequent visitor. Sneaking in a variety of your favorite things, some...illegal things, and even just sneaking you out for a night on the town.

Your first real friend, and you his.

#Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer netflix #lucifer #azritesx3 #azookiex3

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rent-a-bat · 4 years ago

Text

Drabble #3

Promt: #1 “You don’t have to do this alone”

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

A/N: Aaaaaand it's done!! I really liked writing this one, it made me soft all over. I really hope you like it!! There was a dialog I really wanted to include but didn't really know how, let's see if you can find it. Enjoy!

Requests open

The first time it happened, it took you by surprise.

He arrived with a crash, falling from the ceiling, and getting straight into action. The way he moved, how he fought, everything he did was calculated, yet it flowed so easily like a second nature to him. If Batman was all brawl, Nightwing was all movement, he moved like he was giving a show, one you couldn't help but watch. Nothing like the clumsiness you moved with, relieved if only a little that your lack of any formal training could be helped by your abilities.

The warehouse you were in was one of the many you’ve been taking down for a while, a place where people gathered for illegal purposes, too small for the big guys to notice, which meant it was a job for you, nothing unusual, except for the number of people you were not ready for.

A job that should have been easy but escalated as more people started to come. He arrived just as a jab had you on the floor, not before you took out the one responsible, if he was surprised at the number of bodies already taken out, he didn't show it. The moment you realized who he was had you hiding as fast as you could, careful not to be seen and happy to let him finish with the rest.

You watched him fight until the last one fell unconscious. He lingered for a while after that, making a call to what you guessed was the GCPD, looking around as he did so, like waiting for you to come out and then, just as fast as he came, he was gone. You stayed hiding even after he left, you were sure he hadn't seen you, but one can never be too sure, so you waited, in case he wanted to come back. Minutes passed but he never came. Before you knew it the sounds of sirens surprised you, the police were getting closer, which meant you also had to go.

Gotham was your home, born and raised, and like many who did so, you were used to its antics but cared for the city nonetheless, even when this city was a danger to people like you, people with abilities that will have them either fighting for you or trying to kill you, if you were not with them you were against them, something they needed to get rid of.

You knew you were different from a young age. After your parents died you went into the system, a place that's not easy on those who've lost it all, where the first lesson you learned was that in order to survive, you had to fight for everything, literally. And the more you fought, the easier it was to see what made you different.

Your abilities were far from super, but where enough. Just fast enough to dodge a bullet, just strong enough to lift a car, just invulnerable enough to keep going, just enough to save a life, to help those who needed it, to keep the weak safe. And that's what you did.

It took you time to be ready, training yourself to control your power. Too much force might break them, too fast and you’d be doing more damage. Your suit was easier, something light so you could move freely, but strong enough not to break. All black to hide yourself at night, your hair neatly pinned down and a hood to cover yourself, attaching to mask that hid half of your face. It was a long way, but when you were finally ready, you took it to the streets.

While the big ones took out big organizations or fought against the ever-growing list of rouges, you helped the ones that thought were lost, that thought they weren’t important enough to be saved. A girl trying to get home safe, a student getting mugged, doing the little things, because you knew that helping the people of Gotham was the real change.

Trying to go unnoticed in the city where the greatest detective resided was a feat in itself, but you had managed to do it so far, until the little problems you were trying to fix got bigger.

The second time it happened you were expecting it, still, you couldn't hold your surprise when you saw him appear.

A growing number of disappearances and a little digging through the streets of Gotham had you at the docks. Turns out, the warehouses you had been taking down were part of a larger operation, still small, but if left alone it could grow into something much more troublesome, which explains why Nightwing appeared that night and how your chances of staying anonymous were closing to zero.

He arrived just like the first time, so when he landed on the floor and all eyes were on him, you took it as your queue to go, freeing the people your top priority.

The Intel you had was scarce, rumors here and there, bits of information you heard passing by, so you weren't sure how much you could trust it. Luckily for you, that information proved to be true. The area you were headed remained heavily guarded, even with all the commotion on the other side.

Deciding it was now or never, you charged. Taking advantage of your speed, you made your way to the farthest corner of the warehouse, to some merely a blur, a well-placed hit taking them down, but even then you weren't invisible, the moment they saw what was happening they began to shoot. Bullets grazing you as you made your way to the container where they kept them, the hits weren't strong enough to pierce but they still hurt, leaving bruises and scratches on your skin. Moving through the pain you kept going, until you took down each of them, clearing the area enough to check on the people while Nightwing continued fighting with the rest.

The container was chained close, nothing a good pull from you couldn't break, but before you could do anything else, a quick glance to the other side made you stop. Nightwing was a good fighter, you could tell that from the last time you almost met, but they were closing in on him, you could see he was getting tired, his body losing the previous easiness he had, there were more than last time, and he was fighting alone.

You had to make a choice, taking the chance, and freeing the people now, leaving him to his luck, or risk everything you've worked on remaining invisible and help him. Letting out a groan, you moved before you could regret it further, hurrying to meet him in the middle, knocking out a guy as you reached him. He paused for a moment to look at you, smiling a little before he went back to fighting.

You worked in tandem. He moved with you. Every open you had, he covered it, the ones you fought, he made sure they stayed down sending some your way so you could do the same. It felt like dancing.

The both of you working together managed to take them all in no time. You hurried to check on the people, making sure everyone was okay and no one was hurt, confirming they were the ones that'd been reported missing. Leaving the rest to him you quickly made your way out, before being stopped just as you crossed the door.

"Hey! Wait!" He grabbed you from the arm, his grip firm but soft. A little tug had you turning around to look at him, his face flushed from the fighting, smiling from ear to ear.

You looked down to the hand that was still holding you, following your gaze he let you go, holding up his hands as a sign of peace. You rubbed at the spot his hand left, it felt warm.

"What?" You said, not trying to hide how much you did not want to have this conversation. You had done enough showing yourself like that when you helped him, talking was another mistake you didn't want to add for tonight.

"I saw what you did back there. You handled yourself well." He kept smiling, ignoring the sharpness in your voice.

You remained silent, eyes locked on him. Seeing nothing else was coming from you at the moment, he kept talking.

"You're welcome, by the way" you laughed at that. His smile grew as he looked at you, making you do the same.

"Cocky much?" The question leaving your mouth before you could think

"Some might say that." He winked, getting another laugh from you.

“I could've handled it on my own.”

“I know you would.”

“I would! I ha- I had a plan.” Your emotions were getting the best of you. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “I didn't need help.”

“I know.”

“Don't be condescending.” Now was his turn to laugh. You glared at him, his laugh making you feel things you were not in the mood to acknowledge.

“I'm not! You seem more than capable enough to me, but I can't help saving someone so clearly in distress.”

“I'm not some ‘lady in distress’ for you to come and save me or whatever it is that you do”

“Are you sure?” he was having fun, if the amusement and the ever-growing smile on his face were any indication, and you were in no shape, physically or mentally, to keep up with his games.

“Dick.” you huffed, no malice in your voice as you said it.

“At your service.” he said with a wink. Was it a habit of his?

"I'm Nightwing." He introduced himself as if he wasn't one the most famous vigilantes in Gotham, extending his hand towards you, expecting.

You looked at his hand for a moment, thinking what it would mean to take it.

"And I'm leaving." You finally said, turning around as you began to walk, leaving your speed for when you were further away from him, hurrying to leave before the GCPD could arrive.

"I didn't hear your name." His shout making you pause for a moment. "It'd be nice to have a name for the mask."

You thought about it for a moment, how fast were you to change your mind for someone you'd just met, but he had something that made you want to open up and break your own rules, something that made you want to reach out.

"I'm Nobody!" You shouted without turning back. Your name was a little play on words. If they say nobody is going to save you, you could at least give nobody a body to do so.

"See you around, Nobody!" You could hear the smile in his voice as he shouted back.

You walked a little more before breaking into a run. Your conversation leaving a warm feeling in your chest.

A third time became a fourth, and a fifth, and before you knew it you began to wait for him to come and vice versa, working together on the case and sometimes more. Keeping each other company on patrol in the nights where you could barely catch your breath and the ones where all you did was talk. He became your friend, someone you could rely on, who you could talk and tell things no one else would be able to understand. The life of a vigilante was lonely, you both knew that well, but the nights you spent together made you feel otherwise.

The night you finally decided to reveal your identity was one you'll never forget. After years of being almost invisible, of not daring to appear, fearing who might find you what they'd do if they knew about you, the time spent with him had you tossing all of them away. And when you finally did, taking down your hood and removing your mask, your heart roaring in your ears as you looked at him, waiting. The joy, the calm, everything you felt when his hand went to his own mask revealing his face, his permanent smile and his beautiful eyes for you to see, where nothing you'll ever be able to describe.

“I’m Dick.” he extended his hand to you, much like the first time he did so, only this time, you took it, no longer afraid of the meaning.

“And I’m y/n.”

The more involved you became with him, it was a matter of time before you finally met the big guy. Batman was imposing, but you could see why Dick respected him so much. He welcomed you, offered help, if you needed. The rest of the group was just as welcoming, chatting and joking with them. Dick was more than happy by your interaction, beaming as he looked at you. Here, with these people, you felt welcomed, safe, all thanks to him.

Today was one of the few nights where Gotham was calm, it wasn't like nothing happened, but it was slow enough that you could still rest and take your time. You were sitting with Dick on a rooftop, enjoying each other’s company in silence, you always felt comfortable with him, that's why you took it as a now or never.

“Hey, Dick?”

“What is it y/n.” the way he said your name leaving goosebumps all over.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You took a deep breath. You could do it.

“I wasn't the best with you at first, and you didn't know me, we were strangers. So why keep coming back?” You finally asked the one question that’d been rounding your head from the beginning. He remained silent for a while before he could answer, his cheeks and ears getting redder with every second.

“We, uh, heard from you a long ago.” he started to say, visibly flustered. “Nothing specific, just that there was someone helping out in the streets.” he glanced at you as he rushed through his words.

“Batman let it pass because it wasn't anything dangerous and it was pretty on the low, we actually lost track of you a couple of times.” he smiled, “That was quite impressive, you were really good at that.”

“That was the point.” you blushed at his admission, not that you weren't as invisible as you thought, but that he was still impressed that you managed it, if even a few times. He left out a chuckle, low enough to for you to miss if you weren't by his side, his sight lost in the horizon like lost in thought.

“But then, we found each other that first night, you had taken out half of them already, I was impressed. I couldn't see you, but I knew you were there, that's why I stayed, I wanted to talk.” he looked at you once more, his sight fixed on you as he continued. “Then I thought that if you were trying so hard to cover your tracks then you'd show yourself when you were ready, so I left, but the feeling lingered.” you felt his hand on yours. Not daring to look down, you took it and held it firmly, relishing the warmth it gave you.

“I guess, what I wanted to say that night was that, you don't have to do this alone.” your heart clenched, tears threatening to come out as his words echoed in your head.

“That's why I kept showing up. I wanted to support you, let you know in a way that there are people you could count on. That you could count on me.” he was the first to look away, taking both your hands in his as he waited for you.

You knew words wouldn’t be enough to convey what you felt, not enough to thank him for what he did, of how he did that and more, the lump in your throat not helping either. He gave you a place to come back, someone to trust. So, you did the only thing close to that. You took your hands away from his, ignoring the question that flashed through his eyes, placing them on his face, holding it carefully as you pulled him down to you, hoping he could feel everything you did as your lips touched. He let out a surprised gasp, before he took your face and deepened the kiss, his mouth moving with yours like an answer, that he understood. Tears freely flowed down your face, not touching the ground as he wiped them away with his thumb, caressing your cheek. When you finally broke apart, foreheads touching while you caught your breath, you smiled, a laugh passing between the two. You held each other after that, holding closer as you enjoyed the night. The start of many to come.

#nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing imagine #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #batfamily #dc comics #dc #dc imagine #batman #dick grayson

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thenakedgingerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Gullible Mike

AN: I’ve had a few prompts on my notepad for years that I haven’t fleshed out and finally got into a creative and horny mood today. Prompt below. I welcome any other authors to take it and run with it to make their own variation on the simple idea. I ended up having the POV be the controller but I think my original prompt idea was that the POV would be controlled. If you use the prompt shoot me a message so I can enjoy your mischievous minds :)

Prompt: “Photo or video gets found of a friend and he has to convince his friend it’s not him by getting naked.”

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

The hypnosis show me and some buddies went to a few weeks ago was pretty fun. A few of us had been called up on stage and while it didn’t appear to work on a few invited volunteers, it had certainly worked on Mike.

His instruction was pretty simple: to be incredibly gullible. The hypnotist lady had then gotten him into a number of funny situations by proving just how gullible he was. He had offered a bunch of money to random members of the audience since it was obviously illegal to have more than $2 in your wallet at any time. He talked like a baby to anyone who claimed they were a parent because that was the polite thing to do. And lastly, he had taken off his jeans because the hypnotist thought they were on fire!

The show wasn’t x-rated or anything, so it stopped there, but it was pretty funny to see Mike hopping around on stage in his boxer briefs and polo. The audience’s wolf whistles agreed. Before a heckler’s shout of “I think your underwear’s on fire too!” she had put him back under.

It wasn’t until a few days later that it became apparent to me that Mike was still under this ‘gullible’ command. We had been hanging out just the two of us and watching the Packers v. Steelers game and he was going on and on about how Roethlisberger was going to wipe the field with my team. I jokingly said something like “since you’re clearly in love with him, a good luck kiss might go a long way.”

He somewhat seriously asked me, “you think so?” I figured we were still just razzing each other and so I responded, “Oh for sure. If you plant a big one on the TV when he’s on screen I’m positive that’ll make sure the Steelers win.”

Mike just sat there with a curious face as we continued to watch the game. I thought it was just a weird interaction until the camera zoomed in on Roethlisberger between downs. Mike nearly sprinted to the TV and kissed the image of Ben. “Good luck Ben!” he said, somewhat seductively.

I burst out laughing thinking he was still just trying to be funny. He looked back at me and said, “we’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the game.”

I rolled my eyes and got us another round of beers, but these bizarre actions continued. All through the game anytime Ben was shown on screen, Mike would run up and kiss the TV. Luckily we were at his place so I didn’t care about the lip marks and saliva streaks on the screen but I was flabbergasted. What the fuck was wrong with him?

And then I remembered the hypnotist.

It clicked that Mike was clearly still under the command she had given him. I wasn’t sure what to do about it though. I remembered the bar she had performed at so maybe I could call them to get in contact with her and have her reverse this thing.

Then the Steelers scored and he gloated to me that my team was gonna lose because I didn’t have as much team spirit and loyalty like he did.

“You haven’t kissed Rodgers once and you call yourself a fan? You should be ashamed.”

Really, Mike? That’s how you’re gonna act?

“Well at least I’m not kissing him wrong unlike you. What you’re doing is far more disrespectful. I bet they lose the game since you’re doing it so wrong.”

Mike looked worried, “what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows you don’t fucking kiss the quarterback like it’s your grandma or something. I haven’t seen tongue once this whole game. And your silent ass kiss is probably gonna make him miss every throw from this point on.”

Mike was wide eyed. I wagered that in his warped mind now he thought HE would be responsible if they lost. He looked to the TV in terror. Serendipitously, he actually did botch the pass in the next play. Honestly it was more good defense from the Packers end and less-so a poor throw from Roethlisberger but to Mike, that was the confirmation he needed.

The camera zoomed in on Ben cursing inaudibly and Mike went to work. He was fucking making out with the screen, tongue and all, and moaning a ton. He even ran one of his hands up the screen like he was caressing the dude.

I was filled with mixed emotions. I felt bad that I was taking advantage of the situation, I felt ecstatic because this shit was hilarious and I couldn’t wait to tell the guys, and, scarily, I felt turned on watching him make out with 2D Ben Roethlisberger and moaning louder and louder.

The tent in my gym shorts told me I was feeling the third emotion more than anything else.

We were close to the end of the game and I wasn’t pleased that the Packers had lost but for the first time in my life I didn’t care. The day had made a turn and seeing Mike in this way was a treat I didn’t know I wanted.

He continued to berate me for not caring about the Packers as much as he cared about the Steelers which was an argument I let him win. I was still a bit in a state of shock.

I finished my beer and needed to get home. As I was getting ready to leave, I decided to try something. It was dumb, but at that point I was still thinking with the hard dick in my shorts.

“Alright, Mike, I need to head out.”

“Sounds good Matt. Sorry, I made your team lose. Not!”

I rolled my eyes again, “yeah, well maybe next time I’ll try my own good luck charm.”

He raised his eyes, “What’s that!?”

“Well I’m not going to give you any secrets to let your team keep winning against mine.”

“Ah, fuck you Matt. We’ll win no matter what.”

“Sure, sure. Anyway, should we do the kiss now?”

He looked at me confused and took a step back. “The what now?”

“You know, the goodbye kiss.”

He still looked at me like I was crazy. I started to get nervous but doubled down, hoping it would work.

“When two friends watch a game together, they have to kiss after it’s over to show there’s no hard feelings. Have you honestly never heard of that rule?”

He shook his head, “No I… I guess I haven’t. I’m sorry, Matt.”

“Shit, I hope you haven’t pissed off any of your other friends.”

I could see panic in his eyes as he thought through how many times he had botched this gentleman’s rule before.

“It’s probably fine, Mike,” I assured him. “You didn’t know. I’m sure no harm done.”

“Fuck. I hope so.” He looked up at me, “Well I won’t fuck up from now on, that’s for sure!”

He walked up to me and kissed me.

It was so quick and I was on cloud nine with the realization that it had worked that I just stood there for a second.

He looked at me curiously and asked, “We good?” I blinked away my shock to continue the game, “Is that how you kissed Roethlisberger? I thought we were actually friends, dude.”

“Oh, shit sorry!”

I didn’t even need to coach him on what I wanted. He leaned back in and planted his lips on mine but this time, began to invade my mouth with his tongue. As he did he rubbed my back and began to moan. This time, I kissed back.

My arms also stroked up and down the small of his back and I even risked a single rub down onto his butt. Man, was it hot. If he felt my boner pressing up against his thigh, Mike didn’t say anything.

We kissed hot and heavy like this for a good 30 seconds before he broke away.

“Sorry, Matt. I’ll be sure to give a proper kiss moving forward.”

“Yeah… Yeah.”

I was at a loss for words.

I should leave.

I should.

I didn’t.

I’m not sure why it came to mind but I was running on autopilot at this stage controlled entirely by the dick in my shorts. I wouldn’t identify as gay or really even bi, but I had been curious for a bit what it would be like to be with another guy. Mostly like a morbid curiosity or something, but now that there was a real opportunity on the table, with someone I trusted and who was pretty freaking hot, I couldn’t resist the temptation to get it out of my system.

“Oh fuck, dude.”

I looked down at my phone as I exclaimed that.

Mike looked at me, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I think your ex leaked dick pics of you.”

“What?!” Mike shouted and ran over to my phone to try and get a look.

I hid my phone from him quickly and covered myself by saying “wait, Mike. You don’t want to look at these in case it’s not actually your dick. That would make you gay if you did.”

He quickly backed off, “I’m not gay!”

“Right, right. Me either. But I didn’t have a choice, I had to look at them but you don’t have to.”

“Okay, yeah. How the fuck would she have done that though? I don’t remember her even taking them!”

“I’m not sure, Mike,” I said. “Maybe she took them when you weren’t paying attention.”

“Fuck, are you sure it’s me?” he asked nervously.

Gotcha.

“Well, I’m not sure. The only way I could know for sure would be to see your dick to compare.”

Mike looked confused, “Well that would be pretty gay dude. I don’t want you looking at my junk and I’m sure you don’t either.”

“Well of course not, but chances are I’m already looking at it right now. But I’m willing to do this as a friend, and that wouldn’t be gay. And if it’s not actually your dick then you don’t have to worry. If it is, we should report them and try and get them taken down.”

“Fuck. Fuck! I don’t want dick pics of me out there on the internet!”

“I know! Think about if your work found them, or your family! That would be so embarrassing!”

“Shit shit shit.” Mike was freaking out. “Okay… Okay, are you sure you don’t mind helping me out?”

“As a friend, I have to do everything in my power to confirm whether these pics are of you or not.”

“You’re such a good friend, Matt. I’m sorry you’re in this position though.”

Oh, no worries.

Mike hesitantly started to undo the button on his cargo shorts. He didn’t strip in any sort of sexy way but a second later his cargo shorts hit the ground. I was staring at a similar image as last week: Mike standing there with nothing but a shirt and underwear. This time though, his hands were reaching for the waistband.

“I’m sorry,” he said to me one more time.

I went to say ‘no problem’ but got caught off by the shucking of his boxer briefs. As he stood back up I finally got to see it. The whole package.

Mike clearly didn’t manscape much and honestly neither did I, but that didn’t hide what he was packing. His soft cock was cut like my own and pretty thick. I knew not to judge a guy based on his softie but wagered he was large. And as a double bonus the balls below, while tight to his body, looked pretty big too.

I stared.

“Well?” Mike asked me cautiously with his palms extended, miming ‘what do you think?’

“I… I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?” he asked me.

“Well, Mike, this is awkward… but the photos here are of a hard dick. It’s difficult to know for sure if this is you or not comparing the two.”

“Fuck man! What are we gonna do?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

I wanted him to come up with the solution. Somehow that made me feel less like a terrible person and friend.

“I hate to ask…” he started. “But, would you be willing to look at my stuff if I went and got a boner?”

“Man, Mike… I mean. Like I said, as a friend I basically have to. It’s my duty, as everyone knows. So yeah, I’ll compare your boner to the pictures.”

He sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Matt.”

He looked around, “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get it up though given the situation…”

Time to test this hypnosis. I planted a seed. “Well, I heard that in this situation I’m supposed to be the one to get you hard.”

“What? Where did you hear that?”

“Greg, my buddy from work, told me a year or so ago. This same thing had happened to a friend of his.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And I asked him if that was gay or anything.”

“That’s what I was wondering too.”

Mike was falling perfectly into my made up scenario. “Yeah, but Greg assured me that it isn’t. Literally anything I have to do to make sure you’re good isn’t gay. It’s just being a good friend. But he told me that his friend couldn’t get himself hard because boners look different when you get it up versus when someone else does.”

“Really, I’ve never noticed before.”

“Me either, but I guess that’s because I don’t really notice dicks, you know?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Right, right.”

“So, I guess, I’ll have to get you hard. That’s like the only way I’ll be able to tell for sure.”

“Damn. I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Honestly, don’t worry about apologizing. I’m just happy I can hopeful help to confirm you have nothing to worry about with these photos.”

“Thanks man!”

He looked around the room a bit awkwardly. “Should we uh.. Sit down or something?”

I pointed to the couch. “Yeah, why don’t you sit there.”

He did as instructed and spread his legs out. He hadn’t bothered to cover up at all this whole time and as he sat down and reclined a bit, his soft dick fell to one side of his thighs.

I timidly knelt down in front of him. He watched me. Now just inches from me was the first dick I had really ever seen up close besides my own. Gym showers don’t really count. This was entirely different.

I reached my hand out. I was no longer nervous that I would get caught or something because it was clear I could do anything with Gullible Mike at this point. I was just nervous about how much I was going to like this.

My fingers touched flesh. The soft skin of Mike’s cock was warm and spongey. I sort of just played with it in my finger tips for a few moments before palming it. As I started my slow strokes to bring Mike Jr. to life, I looked up at Mike Sr.

He was watching but was clearly embarrassed. He was blushing profusely. I probably could have spared him with some command, but I decided against it. It was fun to watch him squirm a bit.

He slowly began to inflate and as he did I took note of his balls with my other hand. They were indeed large. Larger than mine at least. Mike clearly didn’t shave them but there wasn’t much hair. Mostly up near where they met his body. I lightly massaged them, earning me the first moan from Mike.

He had leaned his head back, no longer watching the action. Perhaps he was imagining some girl doing this to him. Perhaps he was just enjoying the experience as much as I was.

My hand was now grasping onto firm meat. His cock was at full mast. Finally I had him beat somewhere. His dick was probably only about 6 inches hard, maybe a little smaller actually. However, he still had me beat in girth. I continued to stroke him for a bit when Mike finally spoke up.

“I think I’m fully hard now. Can you tell if the pics are of my dick or not?”

I pulled out my phone, letting his dick fall back onto his belly with an audible ‘smack.’ I pretended to compare the imaginary pics up against his dick.

“Hm, mind if I take some photos of the same angle so I can compare them side by side?”

“Umm…” he bit his lip.

“I’ll delete them obviously.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, that’s fine.”

I took a myriad of photos for my own personal entertainment. Some close up, some showing all of Mike including his face which was still flushed. I even took a secret video of me holding his dick upright and stroking it a bit.

“So, I’m feeling more confident that it may not be your dick.”

“Oh thank god!”

“But, there’s a few things that are still off.”

Mike was worried again, “like what?”

“Well… the photos of the dick are kind of… wet.”

“Wet?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Like, your ex had just given you a blowjob or something.”

“Fuck. Is there that much of a difference with a bit of saliva on it?”

“Surprisingly yeah. It’s hard for me to know for sure. Unless…”

“Unless you…?” He asked.

I feigned hesitation. “I think I have to blow you.”

“Matt, no, that’s too much. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Mike, you don’t have to. You’re one of my best friends.”

“Seriously, Matt. I’d rather just have my dick pics leaked. I would feel so bad asking you to do that for me.”

“No, I’ve made up my mind. This is for you, Mike!”

Without letting him try and talk me out of it, I brought his dick to my mouth.

“Oh fuck! Mmmm” Mike no longer protested.

Being the first blowjob I’d ever given, I didn’t get much in at first. Maybe two inches of his thick cock. But as I continued to bob on it, I got past the halfway point.

Mike’s dick tasted great. There was a fleshy, salty taste that I’d expect from skin like when I’ve licked my fingers in the past after getting food on them or something. But there was also an extra flavor that I realized must be his pre.

In under a minute, Mike was moaning loudly. He even placed a hand on the back of my head. Not forcing me down his dick or anything, but he kindly rubbed and played with my hair as I sucked him.

I hate to admit it, but I loved it. I don’t think I could say I wasn’t bi anymore.

I continued to nearly gag on his thick tool when he interrupted me to say, “Matt, I think you should stop. If you go any further I might fucking cum.”

I stopped to look up at him and deliver my last line, “I didn’t want to mention this, but the pics also had a video of the dick cumming. I think that’s the only way I’ll know for sure.”

“Matt…”

Mike was fully flushed both from the seemingly great blowjob I had been giving but also the idea that he was asking his friend to make him cum. He was so embarrassed.

“You don’t have to ask me, Mike. I want to. You’d make me into a bad friend if you didn’t let me.”

“Well, you are a great friend.”

“So it’s settled.”

I went back to work.

“Fuck, Matt…”

It honestly didn’t take long. I hadn’t gotten to the point where I could take his whole dick in my throat; I’m not sure how gay guys do it. But I got probably 4 or 5 inches down when I felt his ball sac start to tighten up.

“Matt, I’m gonna cum.”

I wanted to taste it but I also got a little gun shy and scared. This was maybe too much for my first gay experience. I released his dick from my mouth and began to stroke him instead. Eight strokes later, his thighs flexed and he grunted.

Mike wasn’t a shooter like myself but fuck did he cum a lot. The first spurt actually shot out a couple inches onto his abs. The next four were just gushes that flowed out and down his dick onto my hand but it was a ton. Then he dribbled more and more for a minute or so as I continued to stroke his slowly deflating cock.

“Wow, Mike. That’s a lot of cum.”

“Haha, thanks. I feel terrible for putting you through this though. I’m a fucking asshole.”

“No you’re not! And, now that I’ve seen you cum, I’m positive these dick pics aren’t of you.”

“Really?!”

He shot up in excitement which caused his semi-hard dick, covered in cum, hit me the face. I fell back in shock and he quickly knelt down to make sure I was okay.

“Shit, sorry Matt! Oh fuck, I got my cum on your face.”

I could feel the warm liquid on my cheek and bit on my mouth.

“Well you know what they say,” I said with a laugh.

“What?”

“You know, ‘if you get cum on a guy’s face, you have to clean it off with your tongue.’”

“Shit, I had no idea. Matt you seem to know so much.”

“Oh I do. I’ll be sure to keep teaching you.”

We shared a laugh before he leaned in.

#hypnosis #aware #tricked

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lunasphantom · 4 years ago

Text

Mission: Rise of Rivalries-Chapter 1

Synopsis: Phoenix, a top assassin from a very secret group, the definition of girlboss.gaslight.gatekeep.No one knows her name but they call them Raven. A very intelligent killer whose kills have been studied by many (some very entertaining by the way). Studied by people like Dream. Dream, a mysterious detective,works with the government. The only person who found Phoenix,she was hard to track but in the end he did find her. Now, these two establishments come together to take over a shared target, Sleepy Bois Inc. A family who has gotten into illegal business. How will these two sworn enemies, Dream and Phoenix, take over the most powerful family.

TW: blood,knives

taglist is open!!

masterlist

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After their first tension filled meeting Dream and Phoenix were ready to go on their first step of their mission. Mexico. Throughout the way to the airport and during their time in the airport Dream was acting nothing but like a child. Unlucky for him Phoenix knew exactly which points to push, which made the whole trip entertaining for her. However it wasn’t nice that he was also being mean to ones around him, leaving Phoenix with a lot of “Excuse me”’s. It was like apologizing for your dad's bad behaviour to service. It’s not like Niki or Puffy could give Phoenix a word of advice for handling him.The plane was lowering down, “Be an asshole to me stop being an asshole to a waitress you are starting to become a Karen.” Phoenix argued towards Dream. Dream didn’t acknowledge her at all but just kept “reading” the file for the mission. Phoenixs takes the file from his hands, harshly. “I was looking through that.” Dream says as he looks through Phoenix’s eyes for the first time. Phoenix takes a big inhale “No you weren’t you were just staring in the void.”

“I was thinking of ways to kill you.” Dream said with a smirk and Phoenix just rolled her eyes ``You are just begging to have your hands around my neck.'' It was Phoenix’s turn to smirk now. Dream got stiff over the change of subject. As the plane lowered down Dream's hand tightened on the seat. “Big man afraid of planes,” Phoenix said in a joking manner, hoping to Dream huffed “Haha very funny.” “Have we figured out our story yet.” “Story for what?” “Our couple story, how we met and stuff” Phoenix explained with a slight annoyance “It’s all written on the file” Dream turned to Phoenix. “But who likes going by the book? I’d say we met at a farm” Dream just rolled his eyes. His previous annoyance was replaced with a glint of playfulness “What if we used the real story of how we met?” Dream said wanting a payback over the mention of his hands on her neck. “Before or after you stabbed me” Phoenix asked not even lowering her voice down, earning an eerie look from the old lady beside her “You stabbed me first.” The bickering of who stabbed who first continued until the plane landed. They got their luggage called a cab to go to their hotel. Throughout all of this none of them said a word.

Their hotel room was nice and large enough for other things (knives,guns,computers) to fit in. “Oh you have got to be kidding me” Dream said as Phoenix was fascinated with the amount of food inside the mini fridge. “What happened?” Phoenix said as she opened a small bottle of vodka.Phoenix’s eyes scanned over the room to see that there is only one bed. “You” said Dream pointing at her “are sleeping on the couch.” “Huh no” “Oh yeah I think so.” “You know how my back gets” “Your back will be fine Y/- Phoenix” Dream spit out her name like venom. Unbothered by the sudden rise of emotions from Dream “Rock paper scissors.The one who reaches 3 wins” “We aren’t kids.” “Do you have any other ideas or are you just afraid of losing?” Dream thought for a minute and finally gave up. “Fine” He marched over her like a child. Both of them got into a sort of a stance position, it was a funny sight to see. Two kids fighting over the bed. The game was intense, especially the last round “Rock paper scissors shoot.” Both of them said at the same time. Dream won against Phoenix. As she was about to scream, Dream's phone rang, it was from George. “Did you two arrive?” “Yes we did.” “Okay put me on speaker I also need to talk to her.” Dream looked at Phoenix who was sitting down in defeat eyeing the couch, trying to seduce it to come to her. Dream put George on speaker “She can hear you know.” “Hey George!” Phoenix yelled since Dream was far away, she stood up and approached Dream so she could hear George. “Oh thank God you are alive.I don't have to get rid of any bodies.” “Not yet.” both of them said at the same time. “If I say please, will you not kill each other?” “If you get down on your knees, sure I’ll consider.” Phoenix replied with a smirk.

George laid out the plan for them. It was easy:

Do good in poker to gain Quackity’s attention (Dreams job.)

Talk with Karl enough to get to know him

Get a game with Quackity

Threaten

Get info

Run

Seemed easy and logical. A plan with 0 risk

Couple hours had passed, and Dream and Phoenix were getting ready. Dream wore a suit, a navy green suit while Phoenix wore a matching dress which suited her body elegantly. Dream also saw how this dress made her look beautiful, powerful, it was like the day they first met.

“You look rather lonely for someone this handsome.” Y/N approached Clay in a confident manner without a smirk, showing that she is quite the humble one when it came to her confidence. Clay chuckled while taking a sip from his drink “You look rather beautiful for someone who will be spending the night alone.” Clay said as he leaned down to her “or maybe I can change that.” Clay whispered into Y/N’s ear. It has been a while, a long while since Y/N had been affected by someone like that. Even though she looked powerful Clay could take her walls down with a simple touch, a whisper even just a look from day one. Y/N leaned in more, she tied her hands around his tie pulling him even more close. “Who said I was going to spend the night alone.” Y/N whispered back to Clay. Let his tie loose and walked over her next target.

“What were we threatening them with again?” Phoenix yelled from the bathroom, making a few last touches on her makeup. “You should know it by now, you will do it after all.” Dream said “Well you didn’t let me change our names and how we met, for the first time I am going by the rules. Might as well know it deeply.” Phoenix told Dream as she looked at him through the mirror “They betrayed SBI, released info apparently, almost causing the downfall of the company.” “Why don’t we just let them take down their own business then?” “People who have the information were killed so the family never found out about the betrayal.”

Y/N P.O.V

“Maybe you should do the talking.” I suggested as I walked towards Dream. “And why is that?” He was trying to tie his navy green tie which made his eyes shine through. “Let me do that,” I muttered to him. Seeming to hear it, he let go of his tie and turned towards me. He wore the same tie when we met. “You know betrayal better than I do.” “Phoenix not again.” Dream growled under his breath. “I am not wrong though. You used me to get to my organization. I read that report you know. Shame you didn’t mention our sex life as well, would’ve been more fun.” “You would’ve liked people to know how I fucked you” “Pretty sure we fucked each other Clay.” I said as I tightened his tie around his neck and he grabbed his knife. He pushed me against the wall, his knife was now on my neck and my hands magically didn’t let the tie slip. “Don’t call me Clay.” “Oooh are you mad that I made you realize you were a real person?” I mocked him. “I can kill you.” “Don’t say that to an assassin, we are way too creative.” His knife went in deeper to my neck, but not deep enough to cut it. He took a big breath in “I am not a traitor, you know that.” I looked into his eyes. One who knew him well would argue that Dream got colder after me. Dream got colder after “love” because he didn’t know how to handle it. I heard these arguments from his friends, these arguments over why he got “cold”. However “Eyes never lie chico.” His eyes were the real traitors for his emotions, which made me think back to everything. “You said you would never leave and you left.” I mumbled. He took a step back, confused by my answer. I let the tie loose, it fell to the floor. I took a deep breath, gained my composure back. “Now, let’s gamble shall we?You’ll be fine without the tie.”

I thought I had the toughest job but it turned out to be easy. Karl Jacobs was probably the nicest bartender/ I just watch people gamble so I can psychoanalyse man I’ve ever met in my entire life. Dream played well enough to impress Quackity and we both deserve an Oscar for our performance as a couple. This came naturally to us. Even before we were “dating”, before I knew about his plans of turning me in. I always blame Dream, but I wasn’t any different. We portrayed what we felt differently even though we were the same drug. Quackity bought our act as a couple and told us that he would love to play a card game together in his office, which was downstairs, and Karl would also be there.

We started going downstairs with Dream's hand on my back. The room wasn’t lit enough but I guess it’s to add to the tension. “Come on gentlemen and lady. Lets play, '' Quackity said with a smirk. I think this whole “come to my basement” was just to get money back from Dream cause that man actually knows how to play poker now. Karl laid out all the cards. “If you cheat I will catch you.” Karl said as he sat down comfortably on his chair. “We’ll see about that.” I said with a tight smile. The game was going on. Dream cheated two times but wasn’t caught. But guess who was….me. “No, give me the card back.” Quackity said sternly. “Oh come on you gamble and you cannot handle cheating.” “Cheating means dishonesty and that is a betrayal of my trust. That's important to me.” He said giving me the deadliest look, he fell right into the trap. “How did they react?” “How did who react?” he asked genuinely intrigued. “How did the SBI family react when they found out you released important information but was shit at covering it.” I said as I leaned over the desk to get closer to Quackity who was sitting in front of me. I heard Karl gulp, the smirk Quackity once carried fell from his face. I got up from the desk “I mean come on! Throwing them into the river.” I said as I traced my hand over Karl. I got a chance to look at Dream who wore a smug triumphant look.

“I can come up with more creative ideas, you know.” I said looking straight at Quackity ``And you both can be my little tests to see which one gets the job done faster and cleaner.” I said and finished it with a smile. “What do you want?” “Information.” Dream replied coldly “Why would we give it to you?” Karl asked “This family isn’t helping you, they are stopping you from growing your own company and you are basically their sl-” “One way or another we are going to get to that family Karl and Quackity.” I cut Dream off. “A family that doesn’t care if I kill you now or later. But I am sure they would be itching to kill you when they find out about the leak.” I leaned down to Quackity “I heard they are also very sensitive about this.” The next move came at a very vulnerable moment: Quackity pushed me against the wall and pulled out a knife and dragged the knife against my stomach. Not deep enough but still a wound that’s going to sting. Since I am used to pain, both internally and externally, I couldn’t show much reaction (which seemed to worry Quackity) “They are holding a ball on the 20th. It’s masked, you can go, I can arrange the invitations.” Quackity whipped his head around and took the knife out. “They are right Quackity we are literally slaves, this family needs to be taken down. You were talking about your own plans last night, this is your chance.” Karl pleaded. Quackity thought for a minute, looked at us “Go. Karl will give you the things you need tomorrow just come here.” he grumbled. That was our queue to leave.

When we arrived at our hotel room I was exhausted. I also lost the rock-paper-scissors game for the bath. Again. As Dream was showering I decided to change into more comfortable clothes. Through the adrenaline and stress I totally forgot about my wound. I was deeply staring into the wound trying to decide whether it’s deep or just a surface-level one. I was into thinkin that I didn’t feel Dream’s presence “Who did this to you?” he whispered. I turned around. He looked at it and touched it. I winced. His eyes were filled with worry “Sorry I-” “I know” I said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “It was that Quackity guy wasn’t it.” Dream said sternly. “It’s fine, it has happened before.” “Come here, let me fix it.” he said as he held my hand and dragged me to the bathroom so he could fix my wound.

He pulled out the med kit and cleaned up my wound. Every touch had an electrifying effect on my body. I was extremely tired but his touch seemed to give me back life.He didn’t look at the wound all that much, it was as if he was a pirate who already knew his way around the map, the map being my body. With every touch that could cause me to wince he would look up like a child. He finished it off and got up. Our position wasn’t much different from the one where he was pressing a knife to my neck. Well now it was minus the knife and I wasn’t pressed against a wall. “We can sleep together if you would like?” Dream offered his eyes softening. “I won't mind” I checked my bandage to make sure I didn’t start bleeding again. Dream had already gone inside the bed, I followed him and went on the other side. We didn’t talk after that, we were both silent as if his touch on my body had a silencing curse. After shifting a bit more I finally faced Dream again. “Stop shifting it will start to bleed again.” his eyes were closed “You will get away with my death if I just bleed to death” “The scar isn’t that deep” “You never know” I argued “You and I both know that.” “Fine whatever. You’ll clean up the mess when I die.” I said and turned my back to him “Just go to sleep before I regret taking care of you.” “Sweet dreams Dream” the smirk was lingering on my tone. I heard him chuckle but it was a very muffled chuckle “Good night Phoenix.”

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken #dream mcyt #dream x fem!reader #dream x y/n #mcyt x y/n #quackity x reader #sapnap #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound #mcyt au #dream au #georgenotfound x reader #sleepy bois inc #dream x you #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade

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onomonopetabread · 4 years ago

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Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

#felinette #felix x marinette #marinette x felix #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #declawing the cat #chapter 2 #PLEASE COMMENT AND INTERACT IM SO BORED

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rosebloodcat · 3 years ago

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Toonkind Storyline Idea

Not too long ago, I got an interesting idea for a DnD storyline thanks to some interesting spells I found in the Player’s Handbook. I’ve also been listening to the Toonkind DnD recordings as well. So, as one would expect, the two have been slowly melding together into (what I think) is a fun/interesting story that could be played.

The only awkward thing about it is that I’m not actually in the Toonkind Discord (I’ve got my eye out for the next invite link and I’m praying I’ll be online and aware enough to join in then), so I can’t really share the idea and see if anyone would be up for it. This awkwardness is only increased by the fact that a character I want to see/use for it is one that isn’t mine.

Because of that, this idea has just been festering in the back of my head for several days now and I just- Need to talk about it now.

Like, the fear of possible embarrassment is being replaced by the pure need to talk about this. It’ll probably just sit in my posts/notes forever and not get used, but I want to have it down and out there. (Keeping hopes/expectations low on that front.) I mean, what are the chances that, even if I At’d the players here on Tumblr, they would actually read through the idea? Or want to talk with me about it? Pretty low as far as I can tell.

So honestly, there’s nothing actually stopping me from just rambling into the aether about this. Might as well go for it.

Anyways, let’s get into the meat of this.

I’ll start off by telling people that I had been curious about spells to revive/bring back the dead because I was curious about how many there actually were.

Unsurprisingly, I found four spells that involved reviving/bringing back the dead.

Surprisingly, though, only three of those spells were necromancy spells! (Revivify, Resurrection, and True Resurrection.)

The Fourth spell was called Reincarnate and was a transmutation spell used/learnable by Druids. (If you’re curious about it, you can check out the exact details here! https://www.dndbeyond.com/spells/reincarnate )

A quick summary of it goes like this: If someone has been dead for less than 10 days, you can touch them (or a piece of them) and create a new body for that person and call their soul to it. The spell causes their race/subrace to change, and the new one can be decided by the DM or via Dice Roll. All their abilities and memories stay the same, but their racial stats/abilities are exchanged for ones matching their new race/subrace.

And I thought, “What if this spell (or a variant of it) was used on a character that died in one of the Toonkind games?”

(Also, I realize I should mention this before continuing, Spoiler Warning for anyone who’s never listened to the Taffy Train Saga and the Coup De Blues games? This involves characters from those.)

I can’t think of too many toonkind characters who are actually Dead-Dead, but I do have one that I have a little bit of a soft spot for. One who was killed in the very same game he was introduced in.

Victor Tim, the (very dead) accountant for Dodo Studios.

(Who has been played by both @modmad and @snailcomicz and I’m not sure which of them he actually belongs to, so I guess he just goes to both for now. I know he was presented as a tool/not very liked character, but I just found him weirdly charming. I can’t explain it if I tried.)

Thus, the seed of an idea was planted in my brain.

What if Victor Tim was brought back from the dead by someone using a variation of this spell? Either as someone experimenting with magic or something. Heck, it could even be done with a machine instead of a spellcaster. (I’m not opposed to the “Illegal or at least Unethical Science” route for a villain. Seeing if they can expand the limit for how soon the spell can be used.)

I mean, considering the chaos brought by Dora Z Scale after the Taffy Train, would it really be so crazy to say that someone took advantage of it?

Someone could have noticed Dora robbing graveyards, seeing that the reports on it were few and far between, and decided to piggyback off her and snatch up remains in her wake. Get some free test subjects that didn’t need to sign waivers whilst everyone was focused on the Engineer and later Dora drama in the papers. Of course, they could have also been a bit more careful and waited until after Dora was captured/arrested before starting their experiments. To give more time for people to forget about them (if they had been spotted during that time) and let their focus be taken up by the former actress instead.

And it probably took a while before they got around to Vic, likely from how little they had of him due to Dora drinking a large portion of him. The Perp probably took their time refining their materials/process since they didn’t want to lose what little they had of him.

All things considered, the extra grave robber probably wasn’t noticed for a long time thanks to the sorting that needed to be done with Dora’s undead army. After figuring out who came from where and sending them back to their proper graves, I’m sure the police were very surprised to find that there were still a number of graves that remained empty.

That lovely little problem was probably kept buried to prevent the public from panicking/getting the police in even more trouble. Especially if The Engineer or Mrs. Tim found out that Vic’s remains were among those missing.

(Not to mention the field day the press would have about it. Like that one, very intrepid young reporter. The one with the dog, you know who.)

I’d say that Vic, when brought back, is still a toonkind but probably a different subrace. (Maybe a Frankenalie? Or a Warne? Unless Mod or Snail see this and think of something that would be more fun/interesting.)

He also probably has no idea what’s going on. Just that he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be dead but somehow he’s not and he’s stuck somewhere he doesn’t recognize and are both his eyes facing forward? And “Oh no this is bad. I’m pretty sure there is a bad thing happening and I’m alone with no help, oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Because definitely not-okay, illegal/unethical experiments tend to mean the “Subjects” are basically captives/prisoners of the person responsible and need to either be rescued or find a way to escape.

Both routes could go in fun/interesting directions.

Cause, on one hand, there’s the possibility of getting the info out and having Engie pulling/being part of a rescue mission, or at least someone from the studio/Taffy Train may want to check it out. (I mean, who fakes being a dead guy? That’s weird enough that someone would want to look into it.)

On the other hand, there’s also the fun of Vic managing to bust out with the help of other victims in the same situation. Which could actually be a cool set of stories/games to be played. (I’d- I’d actually love to make a character to play that out if I’m being completely honest here. I may have one slowly being drafted out in my head as I type this.)

There’s also the potential hitch of Vic having to try and convince people/prove that he really is Victor Tim, the guy who was murdered by Dora Z Scale. Or that Vic’s note/message really was from him. Even more so if Vic’s talking to people who actually knew him before. (Powerful potential Angst and feels right there if they don’t believe him. Or it could be really funny, depending on how it’s played.)

There are also some fun shenanigans that could happen too. Mostly from Vic trying to figure out how his new race/abilities work. Like (if he was a warne) accidentally using Expeditious Retreat and yeeting himself into a wall. Or (if he was a frankenalie) getting into a heated argument with an animal via Speak With Animals but not knowing it.

(“Uh, Vic?” “Wha- Oh! Sorry, I was caught up talking with this guy-” “Vic, you’re talking to a dog.” “...Oh. Suddenly this makes a lot more sense.”)

But- yeah. That’s my idea for a potential storyline for Toonkind DnD, Victor Tim brought back from the dead but not as a Yupyaen and all the possible chaos that could entail.

Honestly, I have more thoughts on the story, but it’s one of those things that would probably go better if I was able to talk with others about it.

This will probably sit in my posts for who knows how long and never actually get used/played, but I have said my piece now. Who knows, maybe I’ll use the initial idea in something and just remove Vic from the equation.

(... It would be cool if I actually got to use/play this in Toonkind though.)

#toonkind #toonkind dnd #victor tim #vic tim #rosie rambles #i mean #i'd actually really love to play this #especially if i got the chance to play with mod or snail #i really like the games they do #i'd love to be part of one

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chandelier-s-notebook · 4 years ago

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Doodlewash April 2021 prompt 11: Telephone

Tangentially related because communication.

I mention a character named Meri, that’s the name of LDShadowLady’s IRL dog, for the purposes of this storyline, Meri is her child.

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist of this Vigilante AU, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

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

5up finished up his last class of the day. He dropped his school things off in his bedroom. He grabbed his bright pink leather jacket faded from use and changed from dress pants into a worn pair of black jeans. The white masquerade mask with a leaf motif was taken from its place in the back of his closet and slipped it in the inner pocket of his jacket.

5up’s father may hate vigilantes with a passion, but the guy in charge of the security for their apartment was a fan. 5up’s father thought that vigilantes were a danger to society and that people just trust the system rather than some self-proclaimed public service helper. Another fact was that 5up’s father was too rich for crime against him to be worth it, and when things did happen to him, he could call up Hero HQ and let his reputation carry the weight necessary to get a hero rather quickly. But the people in the ground didn’t have that luxury, so even though 5up’s father asked for a report on what his son does, the security guys doesn’t only fail to mention the whole vigilante thing, he also loops the camera feed in case the man comes to take a look for himself.

5up chuckled sardonically. Who was he kidding? His father wouldn’t call Hero HQ; he goes to a kidnapped child ring to bet on the outcomes once a week.

5up decided that he should go get Elaina and DK on board first. xChocobars might need a little more time to process before agreeing.

5up dashed down the City sewer system. He threw down his skateboard and rolled through the tunnels to District 87. It was surprising how it was faster to get from his apartment complex in District 67 to the Sweet Shoppe and Bakery in District 87 by skateboarding through the sewers than catching the city bus.

5up rolled the skateboard to a stop below the grate in the back alley of the Sweet Shoppe & Bakery. 5up took the guitar strap out of his jacket pocket and attached it to the skateboard then tossed it over his shoulder. He climbed up the ladder and popped up in the back alley.

It was surprising that the stench from the sewers didn’t permeate into his clothing.

He slipped around and walked in the front door. “I’m back Niki and I’d like to buy a dozen cupcakes.”

“Hello 5up, and what brings you back down here?” She knew 5up’s order; he just wanted a random selection.

“I need to have a chat with Elaina Exe.”

“Elaina? Not Eret?” Niki asked conversationally.

5up shrugged. “You know how it is sometimes. Would you have an idea where she is right now?”

“She works at The Golden Bloom after school. This’ll be $27.”

“Thanks.” 5up pays in cash. “Where is that?”

“Just outside, turn left, cross three times, turn right, cross twice more, turn right and it’s the shop on the corner.”

“Thanks.”

5up opens the box and eats a cupcake as he follows Niki’s directions to The Golden Bloom.

- - -

Elaina is helping a customer in the succulent section of The Garden Bloom when the wind chimes over the door ring. She glances to the newcomer out of the corner of her eye; 5up. She smiles a little strained at the customer, and starts to speed up the process.

5up raises a hand in greeting and starts to skim the yellow flower section.

Elaina gets her other costumer paid and out the door. She walks over to 5up. “Alstroemeria,” she says approvingly.

“And in English?”

“Lily of the Incas.”

“Nice. Will they work as friendship flowers?”

“So you wanted friendship?” Elaina jokes. “I was going to ask if you had your eye on someone.”

“No. Just need to soften the blow of information.”

“Oh?”

“Stuff. Will we be eavesdropped on here?”

“No.”

5up nodded. “Could I have some of these?” He took out a cupcake and offered it to Elaina.

She snatched it. “Lemme finish this first. What did you want to talk about?”

“I was wondering if there were any children that had gone missing within the last couple of months.”

Elaina’s hands paused in the flowers. “Why?” Her head dropped forward and she laughed. “That sounded defensive.”

“No no don’t worry about it. Hafu found something and I was wondering how wide spread the problem was.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. One of those situations.”

Elaina’s hands found their movement and she sifted to find the best flowers and pulled them out. “A dozen?”

“Yes please.”

“Lizzie’s daughter Meri went missing three months ago. But that’s all I’ve heard.”

“So yes?”

“Yeah.” Elaina beckoned him over to the counter. “Why?”

“I might know where she is.”

“Really? Where?”

“Hafu found a child fighting ring in her patrol section. My father invited me to it, saw someone who’d gone missing seven months back.”

“Child fighting ring?”

“Illegal. Obviously. It’s a betting thing.”

“Have I ever told you that your father is a bad person?”

“Not you specifically, but I have been told that.”

“Good. Don’t be like him.”

“I won’t. That doesn’t sound fun.”

“No.” Elaina shook her head and laughed. “$25.” She wrapped the bundle in paper while 5up fished out the cash. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Would you be willing to come to Hafu’s tomorrow at 9pm to advice us on how to proceed?”

“Me? Me? You don’t want Eret for that? Illegal children fighting ring of kidnapped kids sounds like an Eret thing.”

“It also sounds like a file report to Hero HQ.”

“Uhm…. Yeah?”

“Hafu and I estimated 200 children, you remember the School Exploder.”

Elaina smiled fondly. “I had a test postponed because of that.”

“Exe.”

“Right right. Yeah. Hero HQ isn’t going to be quick or efficient enough.”

“They would be, but more than one hero is gonna need to work together,” 5up trailed off.

“If there were a hundred then we could trust SBI to do it,” Elaina continued his thought process. “But there are too many kids for just of three of them.”

“And we don’t know how many criminals there are to round up.”

Elaina dropped her head in her hands. “So I’m the second best option.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Captain Sparklez hero knowledge would be invaluable, but Eret is a little too close for this project.”

5up nodded sagely, finally picking up his flowers. “Hafu’s, 9pm tomorror?”

“I’ll be there.”

The door chimed.

“One second.” She turned back to 5up. “I’ll see you around.”

“Wait until we have a game plan before you tell Eret.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

- - -

5up was rolling down the sewers to DK’s Dojo up in District 37; he had his mask donned; cupcake box in one hand; and flowers for xChocobars in the other.

It was really nice that DK had an elevator directly to the sewers, it was so nice not having to climb up a ladder with all the stuff he had to carry.

5up drifted from the elevator to the front desk. “Hi, is Dakotaz in?”

The receptionist didn’t look up from their screen. “No.”

5up placed a cupcake on the counted. “Ahem.”

The receptionist looked up.

“And what about for me?”

They noticed the jacket and white leaf mask and started apologizing,. “I’m so sorry 5up, I thought you were literally anyone else. Yeah. DK’s sparing with Dumbdog in his private room.”

“No worries. Thanks.”

5up swiveled his board around and propelled himself to the back room.

“Cupcakes!”

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Rich Boy.”

“Cupcakes?”Dumbdog took DK out of the headlock and leaped over. “Yes. Oh my goodness. The Sweet Shoppe and Bakery makes the best cupcakes.”

“Geez Dog, have some class.” DK picks himself off the ground. “Yo bro? Can I have one?”

5up handed one of DumbDog and held out another for DK. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No why?”

“Think you have time to stop by Hafu’s at 9pm tomorrow to discuss something?”

“Yeah sure. What’s up?”

“We found some missing children and need a munitions expert.”

DumbDog raised his cupcake in toast to DK. “Do you need me?”

5up turned it over in his head. “If you’re available.”

- - -

xChocobars was sitting on the roof of a building keeping watch of the streets below. There was a meeting between the City’s two biggest gangs. They always met up in this square of District 66.

She saw other vigilantes of the roof around the square and a little ways down the road where the cars were sitting. Someone dropped next to her. “Cupcake.”

“Of course.”

The leaders shook hands and headed their separate ways. xChocobars kept watch as the gang members and other vigilantes disappeared into the shadows back to their home districts. “Hello 5up.” Flowers were thrust into her hands. “Oh?”

“I found your twin sister.”

xChocobars eyes hardened behind her mask. “Oh?”

“We can’t go in guns blazing though.”

She gestured to the flowers. “I figured.”

“She’s ‘fine.’ Not really.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say that there are other people who got shorter sticks.”

“Stop softening the blow.”

“Your sister’s kidnappers are forcing her to fight and people like my father bet on the outcome.”

xChocobars dropped flowers. They fell soundlessly into her lap. “Oh?”

“She was one of the less bruised and was winning.”

“Good for her,” xChocobars said. “Bad for others.”

“Bad for others,” 5up agreed. “We’re going to Hafu’s 9pm tomorrow to plan an escape.”

“Good. I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Go home 5up.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

- - -

“Hello Hafu.”

Hafu startled from where she was sitting on her fire escape. “Hello 5up.”

“I have six cupcakes left.”

“Oooh. Gimme.”

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow? I told people to come at 9pm.”

“We’ll talk over dinner about how to approach this.”

“Mhm. You, me, Elaina, DK, DumbDog, and xChocobars.”

“Good team. We’ll need to expand.” Hafu popped a cupcake in her mouth. “Think you can do some recon?”

“Yeah. I’m sure my father would love to spend some time with me.”

#5up #Hafu #ElainaExe #DK #DumbDog #xChocobars #Plushys #Vigilante AU #DoodlewashApril2021

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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The third man (2) - The brand-new toy

Summary: You and Bucky rule the underworld of the whole of New York, always grasping for more. When your eyes land on a brand-new toy, you can’t resist. Will the golden boy, New York’s highly decorated Detective fall for you and the games you play?

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader, Cop!Steve x Mobster!Reader, possible Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader x Cop!Steve

Characters: Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, mobster business, illegal activities, foul language, seduction, lies, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of sexual intercourse (implied), voyeurism, jealousy, masturbation

A/N: Please be aware this series has nothing to do with the movie “the third man”. The title will make sense in later chapters. 😉

A/N2: Divider by @firefly-graphics

“What did Tony bear say?” Giggling you run your foot over Bucky’s chest, a dirty grin on your lips when he grabs your foot to suckle at your toes.

Water splashes out of the bathtub, but you don’t care. Not when your husband rubs around your bundle of nerves. “Bucky…god, you are insatiable…”

“Only with you, doll. Now back to business…” Disappointed you purse your lips when Bucky tries to talk to you about business instead of fucking you.

“No! I want to ride you while you tell me everything Tony said. Be my good husband and I’ll let you do the thing with thing you like so much.” Snickering you straddle Bucky’s lap. “Look who’s hard for his wife.”

His hands press against your lower back, just resting them there while you raise your hips to line his cock up with your entrance. “Baby doll, don’t make me go crazy…”

“Would never dream off doing so.” Being the devil in disguise again you painfully slowly sink down his length. “Feels so good Buck’, maybe I forget about Rogers?”

“No, you won’t, dirty girl. In a week you’ll beg me to help you corrupt the poor guy. I bet he will be putty in your greedy hands.” You rock your hips slowly, savoring the way Bucky fills you perfectly.

“You’re still the best…” Moans fill the room, along with the sound of water splashing out of the bathtub when you move faster on top of your husband. “The only one holding my heart…”

“I know you want Rogers but be careful this time. Rumlow was easy to get rid of. He was a small-town gangster.” Humming you wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck to hold tight onto him when your husband starts to fuck up into you.

“Oh-right there, baby. Don’t stop…don’t…fuck…fuck…” Your teeth sink into your lower lip feeling your high ripple through your body. “Love it when you cum inside of me.”

“Love to cum inside of you…” You peck his neck, just holding Bucky pressed to your body. “Love you…”

“Love you too. It’s just... Why can’t I stop playing?” Bucky falls silent before he clears his throat.

“We are kinky?” Your husband offers and you nod silently. “I don’t know, doll. It makes me go crazy seeing someone else touch you but at the same time, it makes me rock-hard. Do you want to fuck Rogers or just play with him?”

“Rumlow was a toy to play with and Tony, well he was fun for a while and a great investment. He’s still my Tony bear.” Laughing Bucky presses his lips to your neck. “I only love you, Buck…”

“I know you do, doll.” For a while, you just stay like that. Tangled in each other you let the minutes tick by. “Tony said Rogers believes I hurt you. He also said we can play with Steve, but not harm him.”

“I don’t want to harm him, Bucky. He’s just so shiny and new. I want to make him dirty and rotten. When I am done with him, he’ll yearn for me in a way Stevie will never understand.” Bucky loves your evil way to get what you want.

“You didn’t hurt Tony. He’s a cop too, Y/N.”

“Tony was never a problem, baby. He’s hopelessly in love with my cunt. One snap of my fingers and he is my good boy…and yours…” Bucky smirks, remembering Tony’s submissive side.

“Tony is reliable, not a liability as Brock was. That drooling bastard never knew his place.” Hissing at your failure’s name you look at your husband.

“It was my fault, Bucky. I was the one choosing the wrong guy. He was my first after we had fun with Wanda.”

You still remember the wild nights with Wanda and Natasha. It was a natural connection drawing you to them. “Pity they married and want an ‘ordinary’ life…”

“I missed them too…especially the thing they did with you when I was only allowed to watch,” Bucky smirks when you start to squirm in his lap. “I enjoyed it, tho.”

“I did too, baby. Now, tell me about Tony and his weekly report.”

“Looks good. The clubs are still profitable and the deal with Thor went smooth. Still, I miss Loki and his bad jokes.”

Poking Bucky’s biceps you give him a dirty grin. “I mean, he was a snake, but reliable. A pity Rogers brought him down six months ago.” Glancing at the papers in Bucky’s hands you sigh.

“You hated Loki. Thor is the better partner and not interested in killing us. Loki was always one step from shooting you, Bucky.” Nodding your husband closes the folder.

“Tony likes Rogers. I don’t know if we should involve him with your game this time. What if Tony decides your cute ass ain’t worth Roger's downfall?” For the first time, you worry about your plan.

Tony was an easy prey. He always had a thing for you and Bucky. One thing led to another and you ended up in a ménage a Trois for a while until you decided he’s better off with Pepper Potts.

“Let me sleep about it, baby. Maybe you are right, and Tony won’t keep his mouth shut but I’d like to play with Rogers. Stevie looked like a kicked puppy when I left him.”

“Boss, do I have permission to investigate the club and Barnes activities? I don’t want to cross a line, but apparently, he’s hurting his wife.” Steve insists. “If I can get her on my side…”

Tony chuckles, not knowing how to explain that Bucky would never dare to lay a finger on you.

“Listen, that’s a game they play. Y/N Barnes may be a lot of things, but she’s no damsel in distress. She’s as dangerous as her husband. I highly recommend not to get involved with her. Whatever you believe you saw or heard, it’s untrue…”

Tony swallows thickly, remembering the way you wrapped him around your pinkie. “I made the same mistake, Rogers. I tried to save her only to fall for her lies. It’s too late for me to stop them, but you can still make it.”

“I don’t understand, Sir. You fell for her…oh-I get it.” Steve stammers realizing his boss was sinfully involved with you. “What about her husband?”

“You see…we got drunk, there was a whirlpool and…well…things happened. One thing led to another and…” Tony’s flushed face tells Steve there was more than a bit skinny dipping. “If you tell anyone what I said, you are fired.”

“Boss, your privacy is important to me. I would never do anything to damage your reputation.” Steve is not used to talking to his boss about sex, so he clears his throat and tries to change the subject. “You think she wants to do the same to me?”

“Oh-she does it good…so good. I never…” Tony groans, almost vibrating when he remembers the nights, he spent with you and Bucky. “Y/N is a force of nature. Wild, and dangerous. Unleashed she can rip you apart and put you back together…”

“I’ll pass, Sir.”

“Tony was silent today. I got the feeling he was hiding something from me.” Nipping at your drink you sigh deeply. “I think he’s no longer reliable, Bucky…”

“Why’d you say that? Didn’t he give you enough attention?” Your slap to his cheek stings, but Bucky knows, he deserved it.

“It’s not about giving me attention, James.” His full name leaving your lips stings even more. “You know, last time he was all cheery to see me instead of you, and today he dismissed me like I am a random bitch in heat…”

“What exactly makes you think your Tony bear is hiding shit from us?” Bucky slides his fingers over your thigh, a smirk on his lips. “Did he say something wrong?”

“It was rather the things he did not say, Buck. We talked about business, his engagement with Pepper, hell even the weather but not a single word about Steve Rogers. I think Tony is not on our side any longer.”

“He’s playing with fire then…” Leaning against the counter Bucky chews on a toothpick. You hate his habit but remain silent tonight. “If Stark is not on our side, he’s an enemy and we take enemies down.”

“We can’t, baby. If Tony told Rogers anything about our arrangement or what we did behind closed doors, he’ll go after us when Tony disappears or falls victim to an accident.”

You mirror Bucky’s posture, letting your eyes wander around the crowded club. “Speaking of the devil.”

“I thought he’s the golden boy, doll,” Bucky smirks, riling you up for fun. “Do you still want to play with him?”

Meeting your husband’s eyes, you shrug before you turn your attention toward your drink.

“I will let him come to me, baby. Anything else would make him suspiciously. It’s his decision to play with fire, not mine…”

Steve hides in the darkest corner to watch you and your husband. He can see Bucky’s hand trail down your back and wishes it was his. When Bucky places a soft kiss to your neck Steve imagines you whisper his name.

There is a dark side in Steve wanting to break through seeing you with your husband. Never before did he feel a stronger pull toward a woman, another man’s girl.

“Anything I can do for you?” Liliane purrs but Steve dismisses her with a wave of his hand. Only taking the drink the waitress brought he trains his eyes on Bucky who slides his fingers over your exposed thigh.

Moments later you leave the crowded room to rush toward your husband’s office. Steve almost drops his drink to follow you close behind, forgetting you could see him.

Your mouth seals Bucky’s in front of his office and Steve can feel his pants tighten watching you palm your husband’s cock.

“Fuck me, baby. Please…I need you.” Your needy voice let a choked groan escape Steve’s throat as he must watch you push your husband into his office only to slam the door shut.

A heartbeat later you moan Bucky’s name and to his shame, Steve walks toward the office to press his ear to the door. He’s grasping the door handle, silently opening the door.

Throat dry Steve looks at the scene, not missing the way you react to your husband’s touch. Now he knows what Tony was talking about. He’s mesmerized by the beauty of your bodies moving in sync.

Bucky moans your name, gripping your thighs tightly as you slide your fingers through his hair. Your legs wrap around your husband’s waist and you are too lost in pleasure to recognize the man watching you and Bucky with darkened eyes.

Moan, grunts and the sound of your bodies collide fill the office. Eyes closed shut you cry out with every hard thrust while Bucky urges you on to come for him. “I love you, doll. No one else can have you…”

“Yours…only yours…” Right at that moment, you mean it as you always do. You play with other people, but your heart, body, and soul only belong to Bucky, your sworn partner in crime. “I love you…”

Steve silently closes the door, knowing he’ll never forget the way you writhed underneath your husband. He’s pressing his forehead and palm against the door when a cry of pleasure erupts from your throat.

“Let’s forget about that guy, Rogers. We don’t need him, baby. I only want to feel you buried inside of me. No more fooling around. It was nice to imagine having him but I don’t think he wants me enough to stay…”

“He’s a fool…” Bucky moans your name, shuddering as his high makes him buck into you repeatedly. “We could’ve given him the world…you…”

The cold shower doesn’t help to wash away the shame and the need Steve feels. His hand harshly fists his cock, imagining it’s you touch him the way he wants to.

For the first time in his life, Steve is losing control over his emotions and he doesn’t know if you will become his toy or the other way around…

#The third man Masterlist #smut #mobster au #MOBSTER!AU #mobster!bucky #mobster!Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mobster!bucky x mobster!reader #mobster!bucky barnes #Cop!Steve Rogers #Cop!Steve Rogers x Reader #steve rogers #cop!steve x reader #Cop!Steve x Mobster!Reader #The third man - Part 2 - The brand-new toy

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chamerionwrites · 5 years ago

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“We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

--“Confessions of a Former Bastard Cop”

#police abolition #prison abolition #politics

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helisol · 4 years ago

Note

Wait so.. link to this quodo fic you mentioned in your tags?? I’m intrigued :DD

its only an idea but i will HAPPILY ramble about it in detail under this read more because i never finish writing fics but i do love sharing my notes.

they get Pretty Extensive considering this clocked in at 2k words. so strap in.

tl;dr: karaoke night gone wild leads to garashir and quodo setting each other up for holodeck shenanigans

so basically quark has acquired a karaoke program. everyone on ds9 is going mad about it and it's keeping the holosuites booked out for weeks

the main squad decides to try it out and they just jam to a mix of human, klingon and bajoran music. but lets be real it's mostly human music because i have a mighty need to see captain benjamin sisko tear up the dancefloor to Earth Wind & Fire’s September. so sue me.

anyway everyone has to sing, even odo, even garak and they all have a blast. the only person who is notably absent is Quark because Quark has a bar to run and Quark can't indulge in mindless fun activities when he has money to make.

Unless… Odo challenges him and he has to prove that Odo is wrong.

so yeah quark checks on the gang to see how they like this “Hooman Kara-oke” and if he can sell them some drinks and everyone is like “hey you should sing. just one song. we won't even laugh about your bad ferengi singing! we promise!"

and quark is about to say "ferengi voices arent that bad. im still not gonna sing tho."

but odo is ahead of the game and insults his grating voice and how it could only be worse in song. and because this is quark he’s like “actually fuck you. now I WILL sing.”

so he snatches the mic from whoever was about to go next and fucking Crushes It.

while odo starts Looking Respectfully everyone else is just going "woooooo! go quark!" which makes quark just get even more into it

Takes His Jacket Off, Drops It On The Floor, Dances With The Microphone Stand. The Works. and he's also enjoying himself like "haha! suck it odo! i'm a good performer, it's how I make money!"

until he actually looks at Odo and Odo is Looking Back and then he’s like “wait what the fuck why is he looking at me” and Promptly Messes Up A Step And Falls Off The Stage-

so now quark has a twisted ankle and julian has to take him to the infirmary, which bums out quite literally Everyone and the gathering disperses, leaving only Garak and Odo.

garak as we know is but a simple tailor, but he’s Observant and his little lizard eyes did spy odo looking at quark and making the soup-version of heart eyes. we also know he is the gayest bicth on this station so of course he’s going to poke and prod at odo to see how he reacts.

garak waits until everyone is out of the room and asks odo if he can walk the dear constable home to the ol’ bucket. because odo looked a little melty during quark’s performance, y’know. it’d be bad if he turned into soup on the promenade.

odo denies this, of course, so garak is like “oh great then we can have a Chat :)”

and odo goes "wait no i hate talking” but then they’re in garaks shop and drinking kanar and garak is getting drunk off his lizard ass and talking about Julian because, again, he IS THAT BITCH!

meanwhile in the infirmary, Julian is trying to take care of quark’s ankle, but since he’s nosy and kinda Knows that quark wouldn’t just mess up his steps for no reason he asks about that.

and quark loudly goes “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS JUST FIX MY DAMN ANKLE-”

which of course turns the nosyness up to 11 and has julian going 👀

"no i mean uh- i was distracted" "distracted? by what?" "nothing" "distracted by nothing?" "FIX. MY. ANKLE."

so julian sits him down on a biobed and gets whatever medical thingie fixes ankles in the 24th century. and while he does that he offers quark some wine to loosen the tongue about what made him slip.

anyway one thing leads to another and before you know it quark and julian are wine-drunk sitting on the infirmary floor and talking about garak. which suits quark just fine because it means he doesn’t have to admit he fell because odo was looking at him like he just revealed all the secrets of the universe along with his bare arms when he took off his jacket.

so we have two sets of gay idiots getting drunk in two locations and the next morning two sets of gay idiots have hangovers. yes odo gets a hangover. being soup does not exempt him from it.

julian and odo do the right, logical thing and take some meds to go to work and be productive and garak shows up in the bar to fight fire with fire and finds quark Already Doing That.

so they just sit next to each other, beating their hangovers with more alcohol, and they get to talking.

garak goes on about how he took odo home and pretty much only talked about julian all night and quark is like “wow what a coincidence, the doctor and i only talked about you all night.”

and it's all downhill from there because basically quark and garak just figured out that the garashir pining is Mutual.

"wait, julian was looking at me???" "yes." "AND I WAS LOOKING AT JULIAN-" "Yes."

and then they hash out this elaborate scheme to trap julian and garak in one of the Spy holosuite programs until they make out. this is garak and quark planning. how could they NOT make an elaborate scheme involving holosuites.

anyway i promised quodo so i will keep the ‘garashir makes out in the holosuite’ section a lil more brief

so within the next two days these two gay bitches whip up a new “The Adventures Of Agent Bashir” program, but quark has ‘adjusted’ the program a little so that it only ends when the main characters kiss. fun stuff.

garak and julian go through the program, havin a blast being spies, but at the end garak’s character gets “shot”, and they are so immersed in the story that julian is Actually Concerned and garak Actually Acts like he's in pain.

they kiss, the program ends, and garak- not actually shot- goes “haha gotcha, you wanted to kiss me before i died”

so they walk out the holosuite one hour after their time is already up with a lot of hickeys and untied bowties. hooray.

But That’s Not What We’re Here For.

after garak and julian come down from the high of getting together julian asks Just How and Why quark would agree to help with this. quark Never helps Unless he’s helping himself.

and they realised Quark Has Played Them Like Cheap Kazoos. he just wanted to take attention away from himself and the unanswered question of why he suddenly fell off the stage.

so they go "wait, if odo and quark were both lying and obscuring facts and being weird about this, doesn't that mean- ohhh"

and it boils down to them deciding to help those poor fuckers because they are apparently off even worse than they were in terms of mutual pining.

they also hash out an elaborate scheme. this time it involves odo’s never ending hard on for finding reasons to throw quark into jail.

since quark technically violated the holosuite rules by locking garak and julian in there garak goes over to odo to report the “Crime”

after some back and forth about Why In The World Garak, Friend And Tailor, would report a crime to odo that doesn’t affect anyone’s safety Odo heads to the bar to investigate the holosuites and if there really was criminal activity.

he doesn’t ask quark for permission, mostly because he’d never ask permission to snoop around in quark’s property but also because quark is actually not there at the moment. for Some Reason he’s being held up in the infirmary. Weird.

so odo is looking through the holosuite recordings of the last few days, and he runs through what garak said was the illegal activity of locking them in there and just goes "Ah, alright, i can throw him in a holding cell for that.” but then he sees a message left by garak.

it was apparently left there today so garak must have prepared this which means something is afoot. and the message just reads "the karaoke session was recorded and you might wanna check what Actually™ made quark trip :)"

to which odo reacts with "hmph. why should i care. maybe hes just messing with me and quark tripped over a cable." but Odo looks at it anyway. respectfully.

and he watches the whole performance up until the point where quark falls. Multiple Times. until he remembers that this is a criminal investigation and he finally looks at the part where he falls from quark’s perspective, which is the important one.

and he just. looks right at himself. looking at quark.

and holy shit. he looked at him like he was going to shove him against a wall, not to beat him up, but to make out with him. he straight up looked like he was going to mess him up but not with his fists.

so he stands right in front of quark and replays that moment to see quark’s reaction and analyse how he fell. and sure enough quark Saw Him and his knees gave out.

after that he really just wants to walk out and spend the next 30 hours as a houseplant to cleanse his mind of any quark-related thoughts but uh oh. when he opens the holosuite door Quark Is Right There.

and odo panics and just pulls him inside, accidentally re-initiating the spy program.

“But how did Quark happen to be there at just the right time?” i hear you ask well it was OUR MAN BASHIR

while garak was at odos place telling him to investigate quark’s wrongdoings, quark himself got called to the infirmary for a check-up on his twisted ankle.

and julian kept him there, examining his ankle over and over, until garak came in to Insinuate that Someone is snooping around in the holosuites.

so quark, yelling "NO COPS IN MY BAR", hurries over to the holosuites on his totally fine ankle and bada bing bada boom, here we are.

with two idiots stuck in a locked holosuite.

odo is like "QUARK WTF" meanwhile quark is like "ODO WTF"

"YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" "NO YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" ”well it was you who pulled me in here" "but it was you who designed it like this"

anyway to get out they have to go through the program somehow. quark and garak programmed this very carefully. unless they follow the general story, there’s no way out.

and at first quark says "listen, its okay, we just have to kiss" to which odo replies with that kinda look you’d get from someone if you told them to swallow a cactus whole, for fun.

"you heard me" "quark if this is a joke-" "its not. i made rom pull an all nighter to put in the new sensors." "you paid him for this???" "no." "right of course."

and after a very quick cheek kiss doesn’t end up doing the trick the two actually go through the program properly. except quark knows the script, cheats a little, takes shortcuts and totally doesnt impress odo by shooting a few hologram guards on the way.

so they get to the end, where they believe odo is supposed to get “shot”, but turns out they mixed up the roles and quark is the one who gets shot.

And Odo Doesn’t Know. The Safeties. Are. On.

so he tearfully goes "WAIT NO- QUARK!" and quark is like "odo...odo come closer..."

"yes, quark?"

"kiss me"

"quark please dont die i'll kiss you and we'll beam you straight to the infirmary and-" "ODO JUST KISS ME"

and then they kiss. the holosuite controls unlock and quark thinks ‘oh great, now we can leave-’ but odo doesnt stop kissing him

and he doesn’t Stop kissing him until quark actually speaks up and has to go "HEY IF THIS WERE REAL I’D BE DYING BY NOW-"

"what?" "the safeties are on. I didn’t get shot. you just had to kiss me to unlock the controls-"

and odo is like "QUARK"

and quark is like "ODO"

and then odo gets up and is very convinced that he Must Turn Into A Houseplant For A Ferengi Lifespan To Atone For His Sins.

but quark says “no, wait. can you do it again?”

"yelling at you?" "kissing me."

anyway odo finally gets to fulfill his fantasy of pushing quark against a wall and quark finally gets kissed by odo like hes dreamed of for like 15 years or however long ago it was that they were first on terok nor together during the cardassian occupation.

the end.

#quodo #ds9 #deep space nine #look if anyone reads this whole thing. please talk to me about it. this is my pepe silvia.#ALSO IF SOMEONE WANTS TO *WRITE THIS*#GO AHEAD

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