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gutsby · 10 months

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I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh

Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.

“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”

Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.

It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’

In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.

Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“HEY BIG RED!”

A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.

“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.

Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.

“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.

You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.

Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.

The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.

In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.

You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,

“Call me, daddy!”

The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.

“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”

You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,

“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”

Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.

You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.

You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.

“Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.

Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.

The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.

Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.

Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.

“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.

That only prompted your group to take off running.

You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.

Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.

Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.

Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.

I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.

This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.

Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’

The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.

“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.

You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.

You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.

To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.

“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.

His gaze darted back to you in an instant.

You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.

Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.

Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,

“I said don’t move!”

You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.

Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.

Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:

“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”

At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.

“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”

When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.

“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”

Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.

The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.

“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.

You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.

You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.

“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.

His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.

“Bitch bit me,” he spat.

You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.

“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.

At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.

“Quit squirmin’, girl.”

“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”

“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.

You decided to try your luck anyway.

“Make me, pussy.”

The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.

“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”

“Shane—”

Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.

“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”

“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.

“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.

You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.

“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.

“Fuck what Dixon said!”

“You cain’t just— you got no right—”

“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”

Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,

“You fucked up.”

You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.

Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,

“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”

“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.

“Huh?”

“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”

Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.

“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”

“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.

It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.

“Well who’ve we got here?”

Shit.

You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.

“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”

“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.

“Bit me, too.”

You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.

“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.

You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.

You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Daryl?!”

This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.

Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.

It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.

“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.

And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.

For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.

“You know this little hellion, Detective?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”

“No shit?”

The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.

“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.

Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.

He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.

“You got rabies or anything?” Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.

You rolled your eyes.

“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”

Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.

“Alri—”

“What?” you cried, “For what?!”

You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.

Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.

The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.

Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.

“C’mon now,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”

Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.

“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”

When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.

“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”

You watched him reach for you again.

Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.

You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.

Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.

Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.

Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.

“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.

Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.

“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”

“Like four people saw us.”

In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.

“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.

“We were drunk!” you cried.

You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.

“So?”

“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.

“Oh?”

You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.

“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.

“That was yer room?” he winced.

“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”

“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”

You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.

“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”

“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.

Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.

“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”

“Really, pig?” you sneered.

“Yeah, slut.”

Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.

“What did you just call me?”

“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.

Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,

“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”

You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.

“Excuse m—”

“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”

“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.

“Oh, believe me, we will.”

Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?

Presently, you looked out the window.

Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?

Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?

You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.

The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.

You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?

There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?

You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.

Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”

Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.

“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.

You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.

“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

You shook your head no.

“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”

You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.

“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”

You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.

“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.

You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.

Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.

He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.

“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.

You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.

“To Shane,” Daryl added.

Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.

You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:

“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”

Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.

And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.

Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.

“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”

At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.

They were there to fuck you, not fight you.

At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.

And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.

“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.

“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.

You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.

Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.

“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.

“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.

“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.

“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”

Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”

This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.

You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.

“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”

All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.

“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.

Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.

Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.

Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.

“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.

“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.

Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.

You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.

All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.

Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.

You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.

Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.

“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”

You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.

Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.

You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.

You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.

Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.

When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.

“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”

That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.

You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.

You clawed at his wrist.

“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.

Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.

Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.

“How bad?” he asked.

“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.

Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.

Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.

“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.

Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.

“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.

Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.

You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.

Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.

“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”

You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.

It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.

Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.

“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.

“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”

You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.

Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.

Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.

The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.

Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.

Shane clenched his jaw.

“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.

He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.

“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.

Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.

“Have you?”

You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.

“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.

You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.

Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.

The three of them had you circled in an instant.

Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.

He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.

When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.

“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.

You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.

At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.

You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.

You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.

You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.

The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.

Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Give her a minute,” he muttered.

Shane scoffed, shaking him off.

“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.

Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.

“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”

Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.

That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.

You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.

You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.

Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.

You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.

With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.

There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.

Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.

“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”

You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.

You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.

“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.

In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.

You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.

“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.

You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.

“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.

You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.

When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.

Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.

“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.

“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”

“Fuck,” Rick hissed.

You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.

Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.

Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.

“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.

“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.

Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.

Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.

A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.

You blinked and watched him closer.

As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.

Your eyes widened.

Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.

“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”

Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.

Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.

Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.

And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.

Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.

“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”

All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.

“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”

“Shit!” Rick hissed.

“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”

“Is tha’—” Daryl started.

“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.

Another voice broke out over the line,

“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”

Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.

“What’s—”

��I’ll explain on the way.”

For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #rick grimes smut #shane walsh smut #rickyl

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renthony · 3 months

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Hope in the Hellfire: Revisiting Fahrenheit 451 in 2024

by Ren Basel renbasel.com

When I first read Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, I wasn’t much younger than seventeen-year-old Clarisse McClellan, one of the novel’s major characters. In many ways I was like her: disgruntled with classmates who found me off-putting, eager to talk to adults who would entertain my unusual questions, and constantly off exploring the woods. I was a bookish loner who struggled socially. I proudly read banned books, and carried around my mom’s paperback copy of Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land—a book formally banned from inclusion in my high school’s library or curriculum—as a passive challenge for adults to try and confiscate it. None ever tried, but I sure was prepared to raise hell.

Revisiting Fahrenheit 451 in 2024 is a strange experience, not just because of the book’s political commentary. In 2024 I am 30 years old—the same age as Guy Montag, the protagonist. It is easy to put myself in his shoes now, the way I once put myself in Clarisse’s.

Montag is a fireman in a world where every house is fireproof. Instead of extinguishing fires, Bradbury’s firemen collect and burn books. Without books, the population is ignorant and complacent, kept busy with mindless screen entertainment.

Like Montag, I live in a world where books are targeted by a hostile government. In 2024 I live in Florida, where Governor Ron DeSantis makes regular headlines for his crusades against public education, libraries, and books. Many an op-ed has been written about the relevance of Fahrenheit 451 in our times, and it almost feels cliché as an anti-censorship advocate to list it as one of my favorites.

Cliché or not, I can’t help it. Fahrenheit 451 is a warning against censorship, yes; it is a pointed exploration of 1950s American social anxieties, yes; it is a well-written piece of fiction containing rich descriptions of exciting events, yes; but more than that? Fahrenheit 451 is one of my favorite novels because it leaves me feeling hopeful in the midst of social upheaval.

After stealing and reading forbidden books, Montag’s life spirals out of control. His wife sells him out to the authorities, he kills a former colleague in self-defense, he is pursued in a televised government manhunt, and before the story ends he watches bombs reduce his former home to rubble. Montag survives, but he doesn’t fix the world. He is not the victorious hero of a glorious rebellion. Many, many books get burned, and people die. Yet still, there is hope, because Montag finds community. He finds a way to help preserve the books’ contents so they can be passed down to later generations.

In 2024, Fahrenheit 451’s message is important not only because it warns against censorship, but because it reminds us that even if the road ahead is difficult, even if things get worse before they can get better, even if some stories are lost, there are still countless unnamed, unnoticed people fighting to preserve and share knowledge.

The best part is that any of us can join them.

Written on commission, using the prompt, “500 words about your favorite pre-1960s Sci-Fi.”

Lovingly dedicated to the Queer Liberation Library (on tumblr as @queerliblib!) for their ongoing mission to make queer eBooks accessible. Check them out at queerliberationlibrary.org!

Like this essay? Tip me on Ko-Fi, pledge to my Patreon, or commission an essay on the topic of your choice!

#original post #original essays #fahrenheit 451 #ray bradbury

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luffysscraps · 8 months

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So hybrid AU’s kinda popping off-👀

Already working on a Zoro and Sanji one

Here’s the main guys animals if you’re curious

Luffy- Dog hybrid: Greyhound Mutt. I feel like Luffy would be a Mutt because of just how different he is and how his family is mainly a mystery. I added a Greyhound element because of how much energy they have and how boundless their affection is. Just like Luffy!

Zoro- Tiger hybrid: It’s a no brainer, this man just has big cat energy. Naps all day, while being the fierce king of the jungle. His intimation goes hand and hand with them, they only attack when provoked or threaten. Translate that to Zoro and he’s the same intimating, big softy once you get to know him. Just now he has tiger ears and a tail.

Sanji- Goat hybrid: So Sanji was kinda hard to figure out- at first I was going to make him a secretary bird since they’re known for their powerful kicks and they have that elegance and class. A kangaroo also came to mind since their kicks are strong as well but- I then realized everyone basically sees him as a goat so I went with that instead! It oddly fits him, only thing is that goats rather head butt than kick but ehh. I think Sanji with horns and a little goat tail is the cutest thing ever so we’re rolling with it.

Ace- Dog hybrid: Dalmatian Mutt: Just like Luffy I don’t think many people would think much of him at first glance so I made him a mutt. The Dalmatian side was mainly picked because of the firemen thing and Ace’s power and the spot pattern being adorable! I feel like some of his other mutt genes would be wolf, and Rottweiler. Making him strong, fearless and a good leader.

Sabo- Dog hybrid: Golden Retriever: The classic good boy. Come on what else could Sabo be. It’s another no brainer, they’re very obedient and affectionate just like Sabo. The man was made with Golden Retriever energy. Just hearing his name makes his tail wag in happiness. Need I say more?

Law- Snow leopard hybrid: Law is another person who gives off big cat energy. And I made him a snow leopard mostly because of his spot like clothing choices and fits. But I can also see Law as a person who loves the cold and the snow. He has a freaking polar bear how could he not love the snow? Snow leopards are very calm and timid just like Law from a far but if you get in his way he’ll fuck you up. Plus giant cat ears and a large fluffy tail on law? Oh god I’m melting.

Kid- Honey Badger hybrid: Okay so hear me out. I was thinking about Kid and got stuck- like for the most part I find him annoying? But in a good way- I was going to make him a patriot but then I was like what is the most annoying animal that doesn’t give a fuck and I came up with a Honey Badger. They generally don’t care about other predators size or number and will jump into battle at any time anywhere. They’re really reckless and very strong so I thought it was perfect for an idiot like Kid <3

And that’s as far as I got for now- more headcanons coming soon- maybe-

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tkachuktkaching · 2 months

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Tkachuk has ‘really special’ day bringing Stanley Cup home to St. Louis

Panthers forward visits first responders, children’s hospital with famed trophy

ST. LOUIS -- Matthew Tkachuk remembers visiting family in Boston, the first stop usually being the North End fire department where his grandfather, John Tkachuk, was the chief.

“We’d ride the pole, try the hat on, sometimes we’d go for a ride even though I don’t know if that’s allowed,” the Florida Panthers forward said with a laugh on Thursday. “It was super cool and anytime I see firemen, on duty or off, I always make sure to go say ‘Hi’.”

And when Tkachuk had his day with the Stanley Cup on Thursday, the Brentwood Fire Department, located about 15 minutes west of his hometown of St. Louis in Brentwood, Missouri, was one of the stops he definitely had to make.

It was an enjoyable day for Tkachuk, who had 61 points (24 goals, 37 assists) in 71 regular-season games and 22 points (six goals, 16 assists) in 24 Stanley Cup Playoff games to help the Panthers win their first Cup championship last month.

His time with the Cup actually began Wednesday, when he took it to lunch at Grassi’s Ristorante in Frontenac, Missouri, about 15 minutes west of St. Louis.

On Thursday he brought the Cup to his elementary school, Villa Duchesne in St. Louis, the St. Louis Children’s Hospital and the Brentwood police and fire departments.

“It’s been amazing," he said. "I’m trying to have that little mix of fitting everything I want possible in, but also want to enjoy it with those who are close to me. It’s been awesome so far and I’m sure the day’s going to continue to be awesome.”

There was no riding on the pole at the fire department this time, but Tkachuk did try on a fireman’s hat, saying that “it was a little snug. I’ve got a big head, but it was good.” He also took photos with the firemen and their families, displaying the Cup in the department and outside in front of one of the fire trucks.

Brentwood assistant fire chief Ed Beirne said when he told his staff that Tkachuk would be coming by with the Cup, “I didn’t think their eyes and mouths could open any wider.

“It’s an honor for us to actually be considered,” said Beirne, whose grandson, Faris, was placed in the Cup for one of the photos.

“Although we know the Tkachuk family is part of Brentwood, growing up around here, this is a massive effort to win the Cup. For them to remember and humble us by sharing his day with the Cup, I know he gets it for a short amount of time, but to share that time with us and then bring a lot of joy to the staff and family we were able to assemble, that is what’s really special about public safety and the NHL in general. It’s a family sport. All of us have played it, it’s a family, and this is a testament to that.”

When Tkachuk brought the Cup to the police department, he was joined by his immediate family, including brother Brady, captain of the Ottawa Senators, and father Keith, the former NHL forward who had 1,065 points (538 goals, 527 assists) in 1,201 games with the Winnipeg Jets, Phoenix Coyotes, Atlanta Thrashers and St. Louis Blues.

Brady was catching up with Matthew after some early-morning training.

“I can’t just be riding his coattails. Have to prepare for next season,” Brady said with a laugh.

“This is our childhood dream, just to see it up close and personal, to see how happy and genuinely excited and fulfilled and satisfied Matthew is, it’s amazing to see. It’s been awesome to see, and it’s definitely created that burning desire for me to provide that for my family and friends, too.”

Matthew took photos with individual officers and staff members, who were hesitant as they approached the Cup.

“Anybody that knows anything about hockey knows the Cup is sacred, so we’re scared to touch it,” Brentwood police chief Joseph Spiess Jr. said.

“The Tkachuk family has a strong presence in Brentwood. Not only do we get to protect them, but we get to share in their celebration, so it’s cool for us. Most of the people in this building are huge fans, sports generally, but hockey in particular.”

When the Vegas Golden Knights won the Cup in 2023, it marked the first time that names were engraved on the Cup prior to players and staff getting their respective days with it. It was something Matthew appreciated.

“It’s really special for my family. Years and years and years of hockey in our blood and for grandparents and extended family that come to my house and see that Tkachuk name on the Cup there, it’s truly such a special thing,” Matthew said.

The family had its own time with the Cup by midday Thursday. After bringing home some barbecue, Brady and Keith, along with Matthew’s sister, Taryn, mom Chantal and his fiancée, Ellie Connell, took turns taking a sip of beer out of it.

Tkachuk had already spent some quality time with the Cup. He and a few Panthers teammates brought it to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, on June 25, the day after they defeated the Edmonton Oilers 2-1 in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final. That day, they brought it to the Elbo Room, a bar near the beach, and Tkachuk carried the Cup into the Atlantic Ocean.

But there’s something special about bringing it back to your hometown.

“It hasn’t sunk in,” Keith said. “It’s been so much fun watching Matthew with the Cup with other people. That means more than winning, so it’s so cool. We’re pretty proud. He’s been around, grew up here, wants to be a part of it and he took it everywhere. Everybody’s loving it. We’re loving it.”

via nhl.com

Photos © Tracey Myers

#matthew tkachuk #florida panthers #nhl #source nhl.com #chucky quotes #quotes on chucky #stanley cup cellies #st louis #brady tkachuk #chantal tkachuk #keith tkachuk #taryn tkachuk #ellie connell #a tkachuk takeover

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razorblade180 · 3 months

Text

Random MHA chapter 427 thoughts (spoilers duh)

Midoriya is a better man than me because I’m not getting called a murderer hatefully by someone who worshiped The Hero Killer. Sir, your idol tried to kill my friend’s brother who’s just a nice person.

“You should make it a comic” is unironically a really cold response. That’s crazy.

It makes complete sense society does not give a fuck about Tomura. There’s a difference between sympathy and empathy; even if they learned everything, it’s a hard sell to make people care about someone who took their sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, etc.

I do find it a little obtuse to pin society for people like Tomura and Dabi specifically when the main reason they were such a problem is literally because the personification of evil (AFO) was plotting on these for decades. Yeah Endeavor is major key for Dabi but that boy would’ve burned to death as a child or been found by his dad/firemen if AFO wasn’t being unhinged. Honestly if we’re talking about Hero Society failing anyone specifically by its structure, it’s Toga cause not having any solution for child development regarding taboo quirks like hers is insane. Spinner’s issue essentially racism and that’s a complex problem before hero society. That’s just a societal problem in general! I personally can’t pin that blame on hero society specifically.

I see so many people hating on Deku after reading this and I just don’t get it. The 15 year old boy literally did everything he could and gave up everything but his life for a person who by no means was going to turn over a new leaf and did not feel bad about his actions.

Overhaul has been nothing but a mentally broken/unstable double amputee that’s been in confinement ever since he lost. Don’t really understand why there’s a need to kick this guy more since the villain he was has been dead forever. He’s also objectively done less atrocities and yet nobody seems to feel bad for him. Dude was also an orphan taken in by organized crime too but since he abused a child we got to learn about he deserves no sympathy? Okay. Oh we’re supposed to feel absolutely devastated by Tomura though? Pfft, I’m not. “You should feel bad about Eri forever.” Okay, but can you he do that with prosthetics and a mental institution since Y’know… he doesn’t have a quirk.

Seriously, if the message is “society should do better when it comes to how villains happen” then at least give Overhaul the ability to eat without help. I agree with the idea of Eri not seeing him but like… that dude could rebuild Japan quickly with his quirk. That MF could probably fix Dabi if he tried. Maybe I’m not hero material cause with Eri’s consent, I would’ve negotiated giving his arms back so he could fix grandpa; but before he gets to save grandpa he fixes the country and gravely injured heroes. Does it cheapen some events? Perhaps. Do I want Bakugo and Deku to not have medical problems at 22? Also yes. I’m typically not big on undoing lots of things but it’s not like the heroes didn’t earn a portion of their life back. You can spin it positively. If Endeavor isn’t in a wheel chair, then nobody has to aid him cause I’m pretty sure his wife and Todoroki are just nice enough to wheel him around but they could be doing better things.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha spoilers #razor rambles #izuku midoriya #shigaraki tomura #overhaul #all for one #toga himiko #mha spinner

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yes-i-write-fanfiction · 2 months

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What if in TFA holoforms were a thing and the Bots were able to use them?

What would the teams look like and how would they choose to use them?

-Optimus' holoform looks pretty similar to his human form from the episode Human Error. The difference is that his holoform has short, dark brown, curly hair that looks incredibly soft and freckles. His eyes are also brown and he's got those long eyelashes that models would kill for. His holoform wears pants similar to those belonging to firemen, complete with suspenders. He wears a simple, form fitting black t-shirt and big black boots.

As for what he would use it for, Optimus would use it to better help normal humans. Not everyone trusts or feel comfortable being handled by a cybertronian but someone that looks like a fellow human being? Yeah, it makes his work much easier.

-Ratchet's holoform got shoulder length white hair held back by a low ponytail and he's got a goatee. Like his human appearance in Human Error, he has a scar except this scar starts right above his eyebrow and disappears in his hairline. In holoform, he wears small, rectangular glasses, a red turtleneck, a white doctor's coat, beige khaki pants and brown leather shoes.

Similar to Optimus, Ratchet uses his holoform to better help humans. While he's not a human doctor, he still knows the basics and it's just easier to treat an injury when your fingers are not the size of your patient's limbs.

-Bumblebee's holoform looks to be about the same age as Sari after her upgrade. Other than that, he actually looks pretty much the same as his appearance in Human Error, thinking that his color scheme and general appearance is too iconic to change. He's got a lot of ear piercings though.

Bumblebee uses his holoform to goof off and have fun. There are some things he can't do in his true form, since everything on Earth was made for humans, but thanks to his holoform he can now access them. Things like theme parks and arcades.

-Bulkhead's holoform is 6'5 and built like a brick. But he's got the kindest eyes and a button nose. He's also got red, curly hair and freckles. His clothes consist of a green turtleneck with rolled up sleeves and brown suspender-pants, covered in paint stains.

Like Bumblebee, Bulkhead uses his holoform to have fun in ways that he couldn't as a bot, at least not without causing some major destruction on accident. But he also uses it to visit places and do stuff that he was always to nervous to do before, like visit museums and art galleries.

-Prowl's holoform is a tall and slim man with slicked back black hair. He's got a couple ear piercings and instead of his visor, he wears black pilot sunglasses instead. Prowl wears a fake leather jacket with gold detailing, a dark grey form fitting t-shirt underneath that in addition black jeans and combat boots.

As you might have expected, Prowl uses his holoform to better understand life on Earth and experience things in a way his true form does not allow. It allows him to gain a new perspective of things and better understand what it means to be a part of this planet.

#transformers imagine #transformers animated #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl

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anonymousewrites · 4 months

Text

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Fifteen

Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Fifteen: I Can't Stop Hurting People

Summary: Lucifer fights to find (Y/N), but the Apocalypse is not a force to be stopped.

Warning: Suicidal ideation and thoughts. It doesn't last long, but be aware of your own mental health.

Lucifer’s heart pounded in fear as he called Amenadiel.

“Luci, what’s up—”

“I’m texting you an address, get there now,” said Lucifer, doing so as he spoke.

Amenadiel heard his tone and turned serious. “What’s wrong?”

“(Y/N) is in danger,” said Lucifer.

That was all Amenadiel needed to here. “I’m coming.”

Lucifer hung up and stepped onto the terrace. His white wings extended, he took a deep breath, and he thought of (Y/N).

I’m coming.

Lucifer landed outside the prom venue. Just like in the phone call with Leon, he could hear the fire alarm inside the building. People in formal attire were outside, and firemen were showing up. However, no one was trying to get inside.

Lucifer frowned as he walked closer to the building. It seemed fine. Nothing was on fire, but that wasn’t a surprise since Lucifer knew it had to be a ruse to get people out if something was happening. That didn’t answer why people weren’t approaching.

Lucifer took a step into the building, and then he understood. Magic hung in the air, heavy and dark. A human would not be able to recognize it, only sense some sort of danger and back away. None of the people outside were aware there was danger, they just felt compelled to stay away.

That was better for Lucifer. Whatever had happened was bad if it generated this sort of energy.

Lucifer froze as he found the source of the energy. Cracks had exploded up the sides of the halls throughout the building, showing nothing but endless black within. Every few moments, the cracks splintered up new walls, and the light was swallowed within it, casting the entire building into shadow.

(Y/N)!

If (Y/N) was in the darkness, then they were in danger. They were hurt. It felt like danger, like the endless pain and cold and loneliness of hell, like a lack of anything. It was a void.

Lucifer wouldn’t stand for (Y/N) being harmed and left in that. He wouldn’t. So, despite his own instincts also disliking the sensation of approaching the nothingness that was swallowing the world around it, he did.

While Lucifer made his way to prom, the Apocalypse had truly begun, and no one engaged in the battle was backing down.

(M/N) had used up her bullets and pulled a blade of demon steel like (F/N), and she and her fucked-up husband were mercilessly attacking the Four Horsemen (Teenagers) of the Apocalypse

(F/N) stabbed at Marcel and Leon. Every time he swung at Marcel, Leon interceded to help Marcel. However, (F/N) was much larger and stronger than the teenagers, so he was able to shove both of them off each time they tried to take him down properly, and with the knife, it was difficult to get close. Fortunately, Marcel and Leon were not getting tired. Instead, as the apocalypse continued around them, they just started getting stronger—Famine and Pestilence were getting stronger.

Noa and Olive were dealing with (M/N). She was having the harder time between her and her husband. Her husband’s strength while Marcel and Leon’s was still growing allowed him to keep himself going. (M/N) was being worn down by Noa and Olive. Olive—War—had strength, and (M/N) had felt it when Olive managed to get a hold on her. It was only swinging her dagger and nearly stabbing Olive that let her escape. Unfortunately, War wasn’t backing down. Neither was Noa—Death. When (M/N) found herself nearer to Noa, she found her strength failing. That was the touch of Death.

And so, as the teenagers were growing stronger, (F/N) and (M/N) grew more desperate, more willing to stab and harm and cut the Four Horsemen. They even went for the defenseless, unconscious Em on the ground to throw the Four Horsemen off and force them to go into defense instead of offense.

While (M/N) and (F/N) battled the Four Horsemen, Michael took on (Y/N). He had an angelic sword in his hand and his wings extended. With every swing, he cut through shadows and approached (Y/N). As he attacked and their friends battled behind him, (Y/N)’s mind was thrown farther into the darkness swallowing them.

They had no thoughts left. They just wanted to hurt Michael, hurt their parents, hurt the world for threatening them, their friends, Em. The shadows around them clung to their body, and the cracks forming in the fabric of reality crawled over their arms. (Y/N)’s red wings, dripping in darkness, allowed them to lunge forward, and the shadows condensed to block Michael’s attacks. They were furious, and the red glow of their eyes was evidence of it as they tracked every one of Michael’s movements. (Y/N) was a predator; Michael was prey. They were the goddammed Antichrist, and they wouldn’t be stopped.

“Why my father would create a being such as you, I’ll never know!” said Michael, swinging through the next wave of shadows.

He gritted his teeth as he was pushed back, though. (Y/N) grew stronger as the world unraveled. He needed to push them into making a reckless mistake, needed to push them to fully destroy themself with their own power. And, seeing as Em hadn’t died yet and neither had the Four Horsemen, Michael would push them himself.

“You were a pathetic human, and you’re a monster now,” jeered Michael. “You are a flawed, evil creature, and you only bring ruin to the lives around you!”

In the midst of (Y/N)’s fury, their heart clenched, and their mindless state faltered. The shadows quivered before attacking Michael again. The darkness swirled around (Y/N), too, as if they were trying to comfort themself and fend off Michael’s words.

“Look at you! So desperate to do the right thing, but all you’re doing is destroying the world.” Michael scoffed. “You are the very root of evil. You are a flawed, pathetic creature that should never have been born. Unable to save the people you care about. The demon. The Horsemen. They’re going to die, and you can’t do anything because you just destroy.”

(Y/N)’s wings flapped, and they were on Michael in an instant. He grunted and was thrown back, but as (Y/N) flew in again, he swung at them. He was bleeding from the attack, but (Y/N) was forced to jump back to avoid his sword.

Michael stood and looked at (Y/N) with a sneer. “Lucifer was a fool to ever care about you. You’re going to destroy everything he cares about.” He scoffed. “And I doubt he’ll love you then.” He grinned. “No. I’m certain Lucifer won’t love you.”

Lucifer won’t love you. Lucifer won’t love you. Lucifer won’t love you. Luciferwontloveyouluciferwontloveyouluciferwontloveyou…

(Y/N) screamed, and shadows exploded outwards. Michael, Em’s body, the Horsemen, (M/N), and (F/N) were thrown back into the walls of the room. They cracked and broke, and the group fell into the rooms around them. In the center of the destruction, (Y/N) collapsed, the void opening around them. They floated amidst the darkness they’d created, and the cracks in their skin broke them apart as they squeezed their eyes shut and screamed. (Y/N) cried for all the pain they’d experienced. They cried for the people they’d lost. They cried the destruction they’d wrought.

And around them, the world splintered with their mind. (Y/N) couldn’t stop it. They were spiraling, chest heaving, breathing shallow, their body was breaking apart, their mind was fracturing, they were dying, dying with the world they were destroying.

Because you don’t deserve to be here, you don’t deserve to have people to love you, you’re a failure, pathetic, weak, a destroyer, a monster, abomination. Abomination. ABOMINATION!

“(Y/N)!”

The voice seemed far away, like they were underwater. (Y/N) squeezed their eyes shut tighter. They just wanted to disappear. They didn’t want to imagine that people were there to save them. They just wanted to leave, leave this world behind, leave their pathetic self behind, leave the people they cared about behind. They couldn’t help them. They were a monster.

ABOMINATION! ABOMINATION! ABOMINATION!

(Y/N) wanted to die.

“(Y/N)!”

Dad’s not here. The jeering voice in (Y/N)’s head wouldn’t shut up. He wouldn’t help you. You’re a monster now. You’re going to destroy your friends, your family, your world, everyone and everything he cares about. You’re nothing to him now. He knows you’re a monster.

(Y/N) felt the shadows around them tightening. All they had left was darkness, death. There was no point to continuing. No point to living…

“Amenadiel, stop those two fucks,” snapped Lucifer as he moved closer to (Y/N), heart breaking with fury at those who had caused this distress in his child and with terror at (Y/N)’s state of being.

Amenadiel, who had appeared beside Lucifer a moment before they had found the Apocalypse beginning, nodded. With a wave of his hand and a strength he hadn’t felt in so long, the world stopped around them. Time froze, and (M/N) and (F/N) froze from where they had stood and grabbed their daggers.

The Four Horsemen—Amenadiel sensed the truth the instant he saw them—looked at him in surprise.

“Are you alright?” he said to the four teenagers.

They nodded quickly.

“But Emeranne—they’re hurt,” said Noa, swallowing hard.

“We’ll help them,” said Amenadiel, carefully picking up Em’s body. He grimaced. There was still shallow breathing—demons could take a hit longer than humans—but the blood staining their dress was significant.

Michael stood and supported himself on a crumbling wall. “You can’t help the demon. The world is ending, and there’s no miracle that can stop it except for the Antichrist dying.”

Olive lunged for Michael, but Amenadiel grabbed her and held her back protectively. The four might be the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but Amenadiel recognized what he had seen in (Y/N) once he got to know them—they were just human. They were children. They should not be faulted for who they are.

“If you want to fight, Michael, then fight me,” said Amenadiel lowly. Michael was intentionally provoked the Apocalypse. He had put Amenadiel’s son in danger. Amenadiel wouldn’t forgive that.

Michael scoffed. “I have no interest in fighting you, Brother. I’ve got what I wanted. Dear old Luci will lose everything.”

“He won’t!” said Marcel, glaring.

Michael sneered. “The Antichrist must die.” He gestured to the walls being eaten away into nothing. “Or else reality will unravel.”

“Lucifer can help (Y/N),” said Leon, voice even as ever, no trepidation. “He will.”

“I will,” said Lucifer, standing on the edge of the void and gazing at his child huddled within it.

“And be the first to die,” said Michael.

Lucifer whirled, grabbed Michael, and slammed him into the wall savagely. Michael hadn’t expected the furious, rash movement, neither had anyone else, and he groaned as his head spun.

“I will deal with you after I help my child,” hissed Lucifer.

Amenadiel and the Four Horsemen shivered at the tone. That was the Devil. That was the being that ruled Hell, that organized the torture of human souls, the punisher of evil. Whatever Lucifer planned for Michael, it would be agonizing.

But Lucifer was a father before he was the Devil. And so, he turned to the void, extended his wings, and stepped into it. Amenadiel, Marcel, Leon, Olive, and Noa watched worriedly as he stepped through the shadows towards (Y/N).

Lucifer felt the cool chill of the darkness as it swirled up around him. He could feel it tested him to see if it could eat him away into nothing. Fortunately, as a Celestial, he could continue through it. But he felt the destruction eating away at the world.

Lucifer didn’t care about that. He cared about (Y/N). His eyes were focused on them, and his heart broke more. (Y/N)’s beautiful, ruby wings were heavy with shadows, obscuring the golden shine of their feathers. Their arms were covered in black markings, and the cracks extended up their neck. The worst part was their body language—they were sobbing. They were curled up, head buried in their knees, and shaking with helpless cries.

“(Y/N),” said Lucifer again. “(Y/N).”

Upon hearing his voice, (Y/N) flinched. This was their imagination still. He wasn’t here, no one was there to help them, they were a monster, no one helped a monster.

Lucifer’s eyes softened with worry as (Y/N) flinched. “(Y/N), look at me.”

(Y/N) raised their head slightly, and their glowing red eyes met Lucifer’s. His white wings stood out against the darkness, and he was truly an angel in that moment. But (Y/N) couldn’t see an angel willing to save them. They were an abomination. Around them, the world was destroying itself. They were destroying the world. An angel would never help them. An angel would protect their world—by destroying the evil—the abomination, the Antichrist—that threatened it.

“(Y/N), it’s alright,” said Lucifer gently, approaching them.

“Go away.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened as (Y/N) spoke. Their voice was soft with pain and fear, but it carried the shadows itself in it, power.

“I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you.” They pulled their legs closer to themself. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop hurting people.”

“You haven’t hurt anyone. Everyone is fine,” said Lucifer softly, kneeling. “None of this is your fault.”

“I’m the Antichrist. I’m destroying everything. Em is dying. I’m going to hurt you and everyone else because I’m a monster.” (Y/N) sobbed.

“You are not a monster,” said Lucifer, barely containing his fury at Michael for making (Y/N) think that about themself.

“I am a monster!” cried (Y/N). They squeezed their eyes shut. “Just leave me here. I don’t—I can’t hurt you. Please, Dad.” They sobbed. “Just let me die.”

Lucifer’s heart broke into a million pieces, and he reached out and took (Y/N)’s hands. They flinched and tried to pull away, scared the darkness would take him, take him away from them, take what little good they had left inn their life, but Lucifer held on tight.

“I am never letting you die,” said Lucifer. “I am never letting you go. You are my child. I’m your father.” He held their hands firmly, even as the cool touch of darkness sent shivers over him. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

(Y/N) shook their head frantically. “I’m going to hurt you! I don’t want to hurt you! But I can’t—I can’t stop it! I’m—I’m the Antichrist. I’m an abomination.”

“You are not,” said Lucifer. “I know who you are, and that is not it.”

(Y/N) whimpered and shook their head. Lucifer’s eyes widened as they spiraled, and the darkness splintered up their neck, their powers breaking them as the Apocalypse continued to circle like the storm in their mind.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” Lucifer reached out and held their cheeks. “I do not lie, you know that. Right?” (Y/N) hiccupped and nodded. “Then you know I’m telling the truth. I know who you are.”

(Y/N) trembled and sobbed. Here it was. He was seeing them for the monster they were. It didn’t matter that he said they weren’t an abomination. He could see the world being eaten away by them, he could see their skin peeling back to reveal the pure evil within. Lucifer was going to leave them.

“You are (Y/N) Morningstar.”

The whole world stopped, and the shadows froze. The cracks splintering up the walls paused, and the void hung around them as if hesitating. (Y/N) raised their eyes and looked at Lucifer. He gazed at them with pure care and love.

“You are (Y/N) Morningstar,” repeated Lucifer. “You are my child, the light in my life.” He smiled. “You have never been a monster or evil or anything dark. You are all that is good. You are my child. And I love you.” He pulled (Y/N) to him. “I love you so, so much, my Morningstar.”

“Dad.”

The word was soft, hiccupping as (Y/N) sobbed, but it was there. No echo of power in their voice, no rage. Just (Y/N). Lucifer smiled and held them tighter.

“(Y/N),” he said softly.

(Y/N)’s hands went to his jacket, and they clutched him tightly as he held them. “Dad. Dad. Dad, dad, dad.” They sobbed the world as if holding onto the truth of it—that Lucifer was their father, and he loved them, and he didn’t think of them as a monster.

(Y/N) buried their head in his chest as they cried, and Lucifer held onto them fiercely, protectively.

Around them, the cracks in reality began to heal. The void receded, leaving behind exposed insulation and broken walls, but no darkness. The shadows pulled back, leaving the world free of destruction, ending in (Y/N). The shadows over their wings drained away, letting the gold highlights of their red wings shine once more. When they opened their eyes to look at Lucifer’s smiling face, their eyes were no longer red. And, finally, the cracks in (Y/N)’s skin receded, leaving only subtle shadows down their arms and peeking out from their collar. The Apocalypse had left its mark on them, but they were alive. They were whole.

“There you are, my Morningstar,” said Lucifer, kissing their forehead.

“You came,” said (Y/N), still sniffling.

Lucifer smiled and wiped their tears. “Of course I did. I’m your father.” And he held them tightly as if he could force the truth into them from a single hug.

“(Y/N)!”

A pile of four teenagers jumped into the hug. Marcel, Leon, Olive, and Noa joined the group hug, and (Y/N) let out another sob with a smile at the love from their friends.

Amenadiel smiled in relief. Em stirred in his arms, and he gently sat them down and supported them as they stood. They were conscious, forcing themself to stay so. She took a shaky step towards the group hug.

“Birdie.”

(Y/N)’s head jerked up, and their eyes widened. “Em!”

The blood was still staining Em’s side, and it was indubitable that she needed a hospital soon, but that didn’t stop them from stumbled into (Y/N)’s arms. Lucifer smiled and hugged both, and the Four Horsemen joined once more. Even Amenadiel patted (Y/N)’s shoulder (they were in the middle of a giant hug, so he couldn’t hug them himself).

(Y/N) sniffled and tried to avoid crying again, but their friends were alright. Em was alright—or they were going to be. Lucifer still loved them. The world wasn’t being destroyed by them.

“No!”

The moment was broken as Michael stood and clutched his sword and glared at the group. Instantly, (Y/N) held Em protectively, and Lucifer pushed them both behind him.

“What the fuck?” hissed Michael. “You were supposed to die, you were supposed to finally ruin all of Lucifer ridiculous fucking luck at getting everything he wants!”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped towards Michael. “That’s what this was about? You threatened my child over your own petty jealousy?!”

“You’ve gone too far, Michael,” said Amenadiel.

Michael scoffed. “Oh, please, they’re the Antichrist. They were going to crack at some point and destroy the world. That’s the whole point of them.”

Lucifer’s wings extended fully. “Do not speak about my child that way!” He was fully prepared for a fight.

Michael sneered. “Make me.”

“Dad—” said (Y/N) worriedly as Lucifer took a step forward.

“I’m going to rip your feathers out of your wings and—”

“That’s enough!”

A booming voice echoed through the room, and everyone froze at the commanding tone. A bright light illuminated the rubble and debris, and the group squinted. They all turned to the source, and Amenadiel, Michael, and Lucifer’s eyes widened.

“Dad,” said Lucifer softly, shakily.

The light dimmed, and a tall, imposing man stood in a cream sweater before them. “Children.”

Oh, God.

Literally.

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 4 months

Text

I've never watched, but Is there ever a scene in ATLA or LOK where we see Benders using their powers for domestic purposes- (Other than making tea, or delivering mail) or for non-traditional purposes?

Like WaterBenders power washing their house, or Earthbenders doing something similar by having the dirt jump off of whatever they're cleaning?

Metal Bender Construction Crews that work Faster and does Better than everyone else, whose buildings last lifetimes.

Or Metalbenders running Wires throughout buildings.

Water benders finding leaks in pipes.

Firefighter Firebenders that call the flames away, or cordon them off to sections of building or forests wherever they may be.

Airbenders making the capes on kid's costumes billow heroically in the wind, or selling their services to be a walking fan at a convention hall, or just in general during the summer.

Bloodbending Doctors that preform perfect amputations with minimal blood loss.

LightningBenders that handle live electrical wires in case it can't be shut off immediately.

Waterbender lifeguards. That just makes sense.

Metal Benders that drive Maglevs, because they just make the metal repel itself, like that mail system with the basic earthbender techniques.

Fire Bender train conductors/engineers/firemen that know exactly how much fuel is needed at the moment.

Is there anything like that? There should be.

#avatar the last airbender #avatar #legend of korra #atla

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wuxiaphoenix · 2 days

Text

Worldbuilding: Elected Dogcatcher

We joke about it now, but when there was no rabies vaccine - and for a significantly long time after, when vaccinating pets and livestock was not as common - dogcatcher used to be a job that required not just gloves and a net, but steady nerves, common sense, a willingness to take some physical risks and a drive to make sure those risks did not put the rest of the community in danger. You might not need a dogcatcher every day, but when you did, you needed them. People wanted to be sure their dogcatcher was up to the job. So in some places, they were indeed elected.

It’s not something that comes up in fantastic worlds much, but it occurred to me, in such a setting, who would you want to be a dogcatcher? Though it probably wouldn’t be dogs specifically, but troublesome animals in general. In a hard SF world, you might look for someone with the right scanning tech, capture drones, and know-how to use them. In a softer SF world with psionics, you might go for the guy with animal empathy. (Although that can backfire if you’re using the animals badly - see Andre Norton’s Catseye.) And in a fantasy world?

Yep. Either a ranger or a druid.

The world-bit I’ve worked out so far for the Druid vs. Zombies idea starts with Sionnach monitoring an area specifically meant to catch animals and monsters Not Acting Right and keep them away from the town. Essentially, she is a dogcatcher. She probably also deals with animal removal, pest control, snake deterrence, and figuring out just how That One Goat keeps getting loose.

I’m not sure yet if she was elected or hired to the position, or just ended up doing it and started getting paid for it. (Because seriously, even leaving aside possibly risking your life with rabies - if you have to talk to the same people multiple times about needing to close the pantry doors if they don’t want rats moving in, you deserve to get paid.)

What’s interesting is, like firemen and paramedics, being dogcatcher is a way of looking after your community without having to deal with too many people in it all the time. You can still care for and care about people, without getting so much of a bad shake if your social skills aren’t up to par.

Although in that case, you’d better hope it’s a paid job, because you’re probably not getting elected to it....

#creative writing #worldbuilding

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Note

I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights

The night that your cottage burns down you’re not at home, you’re at Angel’s place instead, his hands raking through your hair as he makes love to you in the shower. You don’t hear your phone under the stream of hot water that cascades over your skin. It’s only when you step out of the bathroom clad in one of his navy-blue towels that reality intrudes, and you pick up the messages from your neighbour.

The fire brigade are still on scene when you arrive, battling the blaze as you throw yourself out of the passenger seat of your car. Your hands were shaking too badly to drive, after you’d dropped the keys for the third time Angel had scooped them up and made the executive decision to do it instead.

It’s too late to save anything inside of the cottage, you can see by the way the flames lick through the blackened windows that the interior of the house is completely destroyed. The outside structure isn’t fairing much better, there’s a loud rumble before the roof collapses in on itself, taking most of the walls with it.

It feels like someone has eviscerated you, as if they have reached inside the confines of your ribcage, wrapped their hand around your heart and squeezed. It’s fucking agony. You want to scream, you want to shout, you want to rage because your home, it isn’t just a place, it’s a treasure-trove of memories.

The cottage has been in your family for three generations, it had passed down to you after your Nana had died, the essence of who you are is tied up in the objects that resided in that house. The quilt the two of you had worked on in her dying months, one patchworked together from materials that you had collected in fabric sales over the years. It’s the most precious thing you own, and it’s gone, everything is gone.

You have to turn away because the destruction, its too painful to look at.

It’s then that you catch sight of the shiny black Mercedes parked across the street. The one with the personalised licence plate that reads K1NG. You don’t even register that your moving, not until you’re in front of the car with the Halligan in your hand, the one you snatched up from beside the fire truck because one of the firemen had left it unattended.

The first hit smashes straight through the windscreen, showering glass all over the man inside. You hear him yelp and you find that sound so fucking satisfying. You strike the bonnet next, driving the spiked edge thorough the hood before tearing it out and smashing it down once again.

“You crazy fucking bitch.” Simon’s already out of the car, blood smeared across his face from the cut across his cheek.

“You burned down my fucking house.” You snarl at him, releasing the Halligan and leaving it embedded in the hood of his car.

“You burned down my fucking farm.” He spits at you as his hand wraps around your arm, each one of his fingers digging into your sensitive flesh as he yanks you towards him “You have to learn there’s consequences to your actions…”

“Do not fucking touch her.”

You don’t see the punch before it lands, only the aftermath. The crunch is audible, cutting through the air as Simon’s head snaps back, blood erupting from his nose and over the crisp thousand dollar shirt he’s wearing.

It happens quickly after that.

The two of you find yourselves handcuffed in the back of a squad car while Officer Frankie tries to pacify Simon as an EMT surveys the damage to his nose.

“I’m sorry.” You say, closing your eyes as your head comes to rest on the back seat. “You weren’t meant to caught up in this shit.”

“He put his fucking hands on you.” Angel reminds you venomously. “He’s lucky I didn’t tear his face off.”

You tilt your head to look at him and he looks back shrugging his shoulders.

“I told you I was ride or die and I meant it.” He tells you earnestly. “Someone hurts you, they hurt me too.”

#angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel mayans

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

Photo

Walked into my cousin’s house (he’s a firefighter) to find everyone trying to find out what it means when the firemen say, “A Collyer’s Mansion Situation.” No need to look, I knew it referred to the Collyer Brothers of New York City- the code for fire in a hoarder’s house. The picture above is of the police knocking down their door w/an axe.

It usually means it’s not safe to enter the building. In 1947, it took police 5 hours to plow thru the junk and find the first brother’s body. It took them 3 weeks to find the 2nd brother just 10 feet away, buried under a collapsed junk tunnel.

History’s worst hoarders, the tragic but fascinating tale of the Collyer brothers can speak to anyone with a penchant for collecting or thrifting. How did 2 prominent members of society end up sealing themselves off from the outside world, fiercely reclusive and entombed by over 140 tons of collected items?

Homer and Langley were both educated at Columbia University. Homer had a degree in law and Langley studied engineering and also became an accomplished concert pianist who performed at Carnegie Hall.

They had a normal childhood. They never married or lived on their own, & chose to remain at the family’s Harlem brownstone with their mother. When their parents died, everything was left to them..

In 1933, Homer went blind from eye hemorrhages. His younger brother quit his job to care for him full-time, which is when their withdrawal from society began. Langley began keeping years of newspapers so his brother could read them when his sight was restored.

In the midst of the Great Depression, the brothers became increasingly fearful of their own neighborhood, which was shifting from the upper-class area they had known to an area synonymous with poverty and crime.

People became curious, local kids threw rocks at the windows, increasing their paranoia. Langley boarded up the windows, removed the doorbell and wired the doors shut.

Several people attempted to burgle the home, which prompted Langley to construct booby traps and elaborate tunnel systems made of junk all around the house.

Langley ventured out only after midnight for food runs. He would collect countless unwanted and abandoned items on the street that caught his eye along the way.

When Homer became paralyzed due to rheumatism, the brothers refused to seek medical treatment. Even though their father was a Dr., they didn’t trust them. Instead, they decided to use their fathers medical library in the house.

Langley believed his brother’s sight could be restored with a diet high in vitamin C so he fed Homer 100 oranges a week. He adapted a Model T Ford to generate electricity after their power was cut off, along with their water and gas, due to unpaid bills.

When the bank came to evict them, police found Langley in a clearing he had made in the walls of junk. Without a word, he wrote a check for the equivalent of nearly $100,000 today to pay off the mortgage and ordered everyone off the property.

The next time authorities returned, it would be to search for the bodies of the Collyers. To enter the sealed brownstone, an officer broke a window on the second floor and climbed through.

Unable to get past the solid walls of junk, a squad of men began making their way through the debris by throwing out everything blocking their way onto the street. The spectacle drew a crowd of thousands.

After several hours, they found Homer’s body. Medical examiners later determined he had died of starvation and heart disease.

When they couldn’t find Langley, they thought he fled and launched a search. Finally, a workman found his decomposing body. He was buried in one of his 2ft. wide tunnels lined with rusty bed springs and a chest of drawers. He had died of asphyxiation after he accidentally tripped one of the booby traps and was crushed. Police believe that he was bringing food to his brother.

The house was deemed an unsafe fire hazard and was razed later that month in 1947. Some of their stuff went to museums and the rest was sold at auction. Since the 1960s, the site of the former Collyer house has been a pocket park, named for them.

messynesschic.com

#collyer brothers #famous hoarders #hoarding #historical hoarders #long post

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meanscarletdeceiver · 6 months

Note

If Henry is tangentially related to the Ivatt C1s like a lot of people say, there's really no reason he needs to be a rival-built stolen A0 prototype; the LBSCR could have just thrown together an extended version of the H2, cheaped out during wartime (even moreso than usual) giving him a steel firebox, and decided they didn't like him and sold him off. The Sudrian firemen, not used to a steel firebox, have no idea how to fire him properly leading to atrocious steaming, even with his decently sized firebox.

Incidentally, this same scenario could be done with a regular H2 to have Atlantic Henry without changing his character arc too much.

We are jettisoning Island of Sodor as canon in this scenario... right? I find I can't quite remember now how firmly Henry's IoS entry establishes his origins, nor can I find my pdf right now.

I'm very intrigued to learn about this steel firebox business. Is that an LBSCR specialty in general or just something they tried out on this hypothetical experiment?

#chatter #ttte henry #real hypothetical railway stuff #lbscr engines #au henrys

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anonymooseforever007 · 1 year

Text

Thinking of You, I live

(Tommy Shelby X daughter Reader)

Summary: It's with the memory of you in my mind that gives me strength to live each day. And live I shall with Joy and Fear, with Laughter and Tears, with Friends and Foes and who else knows? I'll live for the life I'll have remembering the one you never got....In which we get a small glimpse of Y/N's life as it is now.

A/N: No trigger warnings, maybe mentions of death but nothing descriptive and general anxieties that come with being in school. This is just a fun chapter that introduces a few more of Y/N's friends and some of the stuff they like to do. 😂 Enjoy!❤️

WC- 6.6k

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leeds, April 1927

The door closed with a thud behind Y/N after she entered her apartment. She could hear Nelly in the kitchen, likely attempting to make another cake that would result in a soupy mess or another visit from the fire department. She'd officially moved in last month when the pipes in her apartment got too cold and burst. Instead of making her search for a new place, Y/N just told her to live the the extra bedroom in Y/N's own apartment. Her dad was alright with it, and it wasn't like Nelly didn't spend every other night there anyways. It was an easy decision that made both parties happy. Most days...

Today however, as much as she loved the raven haired girl, Y/N didn't actually want to deal with that at the moment, instead choosing to kick off her shoes and drop her bag next to the small couch as she fell into its floral cushions. Burying her face into the seat she closed her eyes and tried to forget the mess that just occurred. She knew trying to get a degree based in science and math would require a lot of both subjects. But she still hadn't expected just how much she'd have to suffer through.

"Hey! How'd the test go?"

Nelly, completely unaware of her friend's current distress had inadvertently asked the last question she should have. With an almost pained groan, Y/N moved to lean against the back of the sofa where she could see Nelly. She didn't say anything, just stared with her lips drawn together in a thin line.

"Oooh. I see.... well did you lose your streak?"

This did make Y/N crack a small smile as she understood what was being referenced. A few months ago, Y/N and her friends had established a cry count board. It stared when Betty and Ruthie said they didn't think they'd gone a day in the last two weeks without crying. Y/N had joked that maybe they should keep a tally board just to see if that was true. And thus the "Cry Board" was born. Every day the girls went without crying they'd increase their number. If they cried it would go back to zero. Y/N herself had the longest streak, followed by Eliza, then usually Nelly or Louisa, and finally Betty and Ruthie usually tied in last. There really was no point to the board, but it was still a "fun" game they did for...well again they weren't sure why it was still up, but it was.

"No, I still get to keep my streak. I didn't cry. I only teared up once and that doesn't count," Y/N mumbled, her head once again between the couch cushions.

"Well that's not too bad then. I lost my streak this morning...apparently kicking a wall is more painful than I expected."

Y/N's head shot you over the back of the couch again as she struggled to contain her laugh. Only Nelly would kick a wall expecting it not to hurt.

"Is the wall ok?"

"Oi!"

Y/N laughed as she ducked away from the small bag Nelly had thrown towards her head. Nelly sighed in defeat and headed back to the kitchen, only this time Y/N did decide to follow behind. After all, the last time raven haired girl was left unsupervised, it ended up with all the apartment tenants standing by the side of the building at four in the morning while the firemen secured the perimeter. Y/N didn't even know it was possible to set water on fire until that day.

"Watcha making?... Or should I say who are you trying to see? Don't think I didn't hear you flirting with the hot fireman last week. Are you trying to invite him over again without.....aaaah!"

Y/N rubbed the end of her nose where Nelly had successfully launched a small ball of cake batter, hitting her mark with a splat.

"Shhh!"

"Alright, alright, alright," Y/N waved on hand in surrender while with the other stuck her finger in her mouth tasting the batter, "This is pretty good though. I like it."

Nelly put her hand over her heart, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "Aweee you do love me! And here I was thinking you were going to stab me with a knife one of these days, right in this very kitchen."

Y/N picked up a nearby knife and fiddled it between her hands, "Of course I won't kill you. Especially not here. If I were going to do that I wouldn't use a knife either. There'd be so much blood and I hate blood. You know that. It's too messy." Nelly stared at her for a second unable to tell if her friend was being serious. And she indeed was, but Y/N also noticed her friend's slightly concerned glance and continued, " I mean I won't kill you because I like you too. That should be the obvious given. I probably wouldn't talk to you if I didn't... or go out of my way to do it.... But I do, soooo I'm not gonna kill ya. I don't really want to kill anyone actually because again blood and bodies and other fluids...ew. But like in context I'm not gonna kill you..."

Y/N's rambling was cut off as Nelly began to laugh.

"Y/N I love you, you don't know how much I love that."

"I love you too. That's why I'm not gonna kill ya."

Both girls were laughing now at the conversation they'd already had more than once. It was almost a weekly occurrence of Nelly stating she thought Y/N would kill her for one silly reason or another, and Y/N stating she wouldn't because of the mess it would make. For a moment silence fell over the kitchen as the girls each went to do their own thing. Nelly continued baking and Y/N sat at the counter watching her, sneaking bits of batter from the bowl when she could.

"But really, how do you think your test went?"

Briefly slumping to put her head on the table before bringing it back up Y/N answered.

"I mean, I think I knew how to work the problems, but I don't know if I got my numbers right. You know I'm bad with that sometimes," she replied. And it was true. It wasn't her own fault, everyone did it, but Y/N had a habit of accidentally switching numbers or letters around in her head at the last minute, or even words occasionally with what she intended. And while it usually didn't matter too much, it was nerve-wracking when her professor only graded questions as right or wrong. No points given for close attempts or missing math signs. And while Y/N understood their reasons for it, sometimes it still was very unpleasant. Luckily, Nelly could be just as positive as her friend in situations like this.

"That's alright isn't it though? It's only one test? What's the worse that could happen?"

"I get kicked out of college and can't get a job and end up dead in the streets..."

"Ok ok, that's not gonna happen. And besides even if you can't get a job inventing things, there are always other options. You're still incredibly smart and talented. Besides," Nelly joked, poking her friend lightly, "You could always work at a club as a dancer eh? Shake around in sparkly clothes all day?"

It was Y/N's turn to flick batter in the other girl's face. She waved her hands around and made some pitiful attempts to recreate the moves they'd seen the girls in clubs do before. Y/N was incredibly capable of many talents and often considered herself a jack-of-all trades, however that 'all' didn't include anything having to do with dancing or holding a beat. Sure she could carry a tune as well as most people, but when it came to instruments or moving around to them she was at a loss. Too many steps or pre-planned notes that usually got mixed around in her head. So she typically stuck to letting her friends play the music while she cheered them on.

"SEE! I can't even do that Nel. That's the problem," Y/N groaned again thinking of her possible future, "I couldn't even become a dancer at a seedy club because dancer's got to have skills doing that stuff. They have to be able to read music and memorize steps. It doesn't matter how they dance, they're all so graceful too and look real pretty moving around. I haven't ever seen a dancer that makes me look away. But me," Y/N's head hit the table again, "I've got the damn grace of a drunk baby deer. They'll put me on stage and I'll be trying to swing my hips and the fellas in the front will be like 'oh wow who put that sick deer up there Ted?' And 'I don't know Joe maybe it's hunting season' and then they'll probably shoot me to with their gun to make the misery end. That's what's gonna happen I swear!"

Nelly had one hand covering her face as she tried to hide her smile, "First off. I don't even know what that means. Like what the fuck do I say to that. And second I promise you it won't be that bad. And anyone who tries to shoot you will have to fight me to the death first."

Y/N stuck out her hand to grab Nelly's.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah? And I'll make sure there's no blood for you to see either."

"Awe, you do love me!"

"Of course, I can't kill you either, your dad pays our rent."

"...fair enough. But if you kill me and get caught then you'll still get rent free. But I don't think the food will be as good."

"Who said I'm gonna get caught?"

"Nelly, last week you saw a police office and told him you had 4 bottles of illegal rum in your knickers drawer. You weren't even drunk. You just wanted to see what he would do."

"Right...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a little while later when the phone rang. Y/N had again taken to couch, only this time she wasn't wallowing. Instead she was rereading the Sherlock Holmes book she got in January. It was probably the fifth time she'd done it by now, but still she was captivated every time. And since she was still half way though a chapter, Nelly was left to pick up the phone. The sounds of the conversation were present in the background of Y/N's head, but she was still too focused on her story to pay much attention. That was until Nelly came over and lightly knocked the back of the other girl's head, gaining her attention.

"Book down and grab your bag. We're going out tonight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, the two girls reached the pub to meet up with Louisa, Betty, Eliza, and three more of their friends, Peter, Oliver, and Kent. Their group had met the trio a few months ago at the beginning of the semester and their friendship had only grown from there. They were actually the inhabitants of the apartment right next to Y/N and across from Nelly's old one. It was a nice mix, especially when one of the girls ended up staying out late at the university at night and needed someone to walk them home. It also didn't hurt that Peter, and Betty had taken a shine to each other. The pair of them often happened to fall behind the rest of the group when walking to a film or restaurant, lost in their own little world. Though it had been months now and neither would admit their feeling for the other. No amount of teasing or less than subtly hints about getting a room could make them speak the truth. Always saying they were just friends and nothing more. Well, it certainly was nothing more if "nothing more" meant sneaking away from the group's bonfire last week and disappearing for three hours, only to show up dirtied and grinning like the creepy clowns from the Halloween fair. Oliver nearly ended up in the pond for that comment. But in the end, friends or more, the small group enjoyed spending time together when they could, and with the first school year ending soon, they wanted do make the most before they parted ways for summer.

Making their way into the pub, Y/N saw the group had already claimed one booth in the crowded space for their own, which was a good thing too as the room seemed to double in population by the second. However, it seemed their friends had yet to lay eyes on the pair, so the two girls decided to have a little fun. Sneaking over to the table, weaving in and out between patrons they managed to make their way behind the opened ended booth behind Kent, each grabbing one of his shoulders and yelling "Ahhhh" in his ear. And while the rest of the group jumped (or in Oliver's case banged his head on the table), the tall boy just flinched slightly before beginning to laugh. He'd actually noticed the girls sneaking up on him from the mirror across the way, but didn't want to ruin their plans. Kent was like that a lot.

He was probably the sweetest out of the boys, with his warm smile and farm boy persona. But there wasn't any chance you could ever sneak something by him. As oblivious as he was to the flirting of others. he had senses of a hawk and always seemed to know when he was being tricked or snuck up on. He wanted to be a photographer for the papers or film movies one day. He also had an impressive camera collection and knack for finding a shot of trouble. More than once he'd knocked on the girls door late at night, hoping that Y/N would be able to fix his camera and Nelly would look at the bruise forming beneath his eye when him and Oliver did a little too much amateur investigation.

It didn't help that Oliver himself practically lived in the small police office his dad ran when he was back home, always going through old cases, looking for something to catch his ever fleeting interest. If there was an unsettling and unsolved crime in the paper, you could be sure Oliver would be trying to jump fence to the murder site to find the missing hand or whatever was left the next day. Atleast he'd had the decency to warn the group now before he dragged them on "adventures". In the beginning, he hadn't told them any of his investigation plans until they were already looking at the creepy writing on the wall or huddling together in the dark woods at night, while he looked for a certain plant that would "absolutely" prove that their stern chemistry professor was the one who should be arrested for a crime. Preferably, before the next test he had yet to study for. He was simply putting it 'fucking amazing'. Y/N and Oliver got along great because of their affinity for stupid jokes and bouncy dispositions. It didn't matter how random or confusing their harmless but, sometimes out of pocket conversations were, if one said something the other was sure to join in.

Y/N also liked Oliver because he reminded her of her Uncle Finn, who she hadn't seen in years and was basically her brother. It had been so long since she'd seen her father's side of the family, and besides her father she didn't remember too much about most of them. Only bits and pieces of small memories at random times. But she did remember Finn, he'd been the last one she'd talked too before her mother had taken her and left after the news her father died. They'd been talking about what type of fort to build for their sleepover with Katie on that night, and how they could sneak cookies in the fort and hide them from Aunt Polly. She'd been standing right behind them of course, as they planned in the hall by the kitchen....where she was cooking. But she hadn't said anything, letting the children try to make their plan. After all, this was a regular occurrence between Finn and Y/N. They were always making plans to cause trouble in one way or another, but rarely did they ever follow them though. Eventually, and while still discussing forts, they'd gotten up and headed out the door, waving bye to Polly who absentmindedly waved back, not paying much attention as she got back to cutting the carrots. She hadn't put much thought into them leaving, since they were only going to Isaiah's house. It was a normal occurrence and by all means a relatively normal day. But that day hadn't been normal at all. Midway to their destination, Y/N's mother appeared with a letter in her hand, interrupting their conversation before saying Y/N needed to come with her immediately and that she couldn't play with Finn or Isaiah that day. Naively, though after a slight protest wanting to stay together, both children relented to the woman who was still technically Y/N's remaining guardian while her father was at war. Y/N followed her mother down the street, but not before pausing and running back down the street to give Finn a lasting hug and promised to build the fort tomorrow, cookies included..... But unknown to them that wouldn't happen. When Y/N got home her mother told her what was in the letter balled between her hands. That was letter that turned a normal day into the worst in Y/N's young life...

So when she woke up one morning, a few days into her first year of the university, to a young man trying climb in her kitchen window... well she almost took a bat to his skull, but after hearing his girlish scream upon seeing her, she realized something else wasn't right. After all, what robber sings jazz to himself when breaking into a house.... only wears one shoe. Still holding him at bat point, she'd demanded he name himself and state his purpose. To her relief he'd explained that he had thought it was his own kitchen and he wanted to try climbing into the room since he accidentally forgot his key after going out early that morning. He'd noticed a couple of cop cars speeding by and wanted to see where they were going. In his sleepy haste for hopefully a homocide, he'd forgotten not only his keys, but also his left shoe, and as a result, after only making it two blocks, he was stuck outside. That was until he'd seen the Y/N's kitchen window that had been left slightly cracked open the night before to let airflow in and mistook it for his own. How he'd gotten up three stories with one shoe Y/N didn't ask, but she knew she was impressed, and a bit scared. She'd never leave the window even slightly open ever again. Having decided the gangly boy wasn't going to kill her and get blood on her floors, Y/N did the one thing she was very good at.... She made him her friend by offering him food. Toast to be exact, as it was the one thing she knew she could make well.

And from that moment the rest was history. Once again, she finally had a friend who she was as close to as her favorite uncle. Someone who understood her as she understood him and together they would create just as much good as they did chaos. After breakfast she'd joined Oliver in knocking on his apartment door repeatedly until a half asleep Kent opened the door, not even registering the new face. It would be four more days before she saw either boy again or actually learned Kent's name. She'd dubbed him "the tall one with messy black hair " at that point when recounting the event to her friends. Then on the fourth day, Oliver had eagerly called out to her across the street, waving his arms like a bird to get her attention as she was walking with her friends. He asked if they wanted to join him and Kent for some "fun". Having nothing else to do and intrigued by the boy's energy, they'd followed him....

Did they end up lost in the middle of the woods for three hours looking for where Oliver read about a woman who had killed her unfaithful husband? Yes? Did Betty try and convince Nelly to take the injured baby owl back and keep it in her apartment until it recovered? Yes. Did she agree? No, but Clark did, and Oliver threatened to make it into stew if it pooed on his case files. Did Eliza throw a pebble at Oliver's neck, making him scream and nearly jump into Kent's arms? Well that, she'd never admit, but it was funny to watch. Did Lydia almost smell a poisonous flower only for Y/N to stop her and give a very detailed explanation of what painful things would happen if she inhaled it? Yes??? Did Oliver go to smell the flower after hearing said explanation just to see if it was true? Yes.... Well he tried but Y/N wacked him on the back of the head before he smelled it too much.... didn't stop him from almost passing out though. It also didn't stop her from asking him if he thought she should try it... Kent decided at that moment to A) never let Y/N and Oliver get drunk at the same time for the safety of the free world, and B) grab the flower to light it on fire so no one else could smell it.... Did this prompt another rambling explanation from Y/N about how burning the flower could be more deadly than just smelling it causing the rest of them to run away from Kent who was already "infected" with the "botanical blood death" according to Oliver? Yes, but even though he hadn't lit the plant yet he still listened to her every word. Did they still spend an hour trying to convince Oliver to let Kent back in his car for the trip back? No.... it was two hours.... All in all it was a great trip and everyone had fun! The baby bird was named Owlver ("Like Oliver but with Owl....get it Ollie?"..... "Absolutely fucking not Y/N.") and Owie (his nickname) loves sitting on Oliver's head while he sleeps. And from that day forward it wasn't unusual for them to meet together like they were today. However, now they made Oliver tell them when he wanted to explore a crime scene.... he told the truth....usually.

But back to the present, where Nelly and Y/N had settled down among their friends. Nelly sat on one end of the booth with her legs over Louisa's lap, wiggling her feet towards Eliza and Betty in greeting. Y/N ended up sitting between Oliver and Kent. They all knew that she, like Eliza wasn't the most comfortable in crowded places and on top of that she didn't like touching too many people in general, especially random strangers. Sure, she was usually alright with brushing up with her friends, but aside from the occasional hug, even that took some time. So to lessen the possibility of that occurring, Eliza got to pick the seat in the smack middle of the booth next to Peter and Betty, while Kent had given Y/N his seat next to Oliver, and taken the remaining end of the booth while placing his arm over the back of Y/N's space so he wouldn't fall off. And soon enough after they were settled the first round of their drinks arrived.

Everyone was content for a little while longer, each jumping in and out of the two or three different conversations happening at once. Then Louisa grabbed her glass and stood up, causing everyone to pause and look at her.

"Alright darlings," she drawled," Who's gonna fight the crowd and go to the Loo with me, eh? I wanna check my hair and take a piss."

Betty and Eliza also got up, but Y/N hesitated slightly pretending to avoid Louisa's eyes and leaning a bit farther from the booth end, closer to Oliver who was no help in her plight, already starting to try pushing her out to effectively knock Kent off the seat so he could stretch his own legs out. The 'brilliant stinking bean pole of a human being' Y/N thought to herself.

"Y/N? Are you coming or are you really gonna leave me to the potential horrors of the bathroom," Louisa questioned, poking her arm lightly with pretty red nails.

Y/N jokingly rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, "But Louisaaa..... peopleeee!!!! You know how I feel able them. They'r- Olive Boy stop pushing my ass or you're gonna knock Kent out."

"That's the point."

Louisa only laughed and grabbed her hand insistently, pulling her up as Kent, the traitor of a friend, released his hold over her shoulders and stood up making Oliver's goal a whole lot easier. Y/N elbowed him slightly as he continued to try and claim his new space causing the boy to groan and finally relent. "Yes people, but come on! It's just a quick trip and besides it's The Rules."

"Ah yes, THE Rules. If one girl goes to take a piss, all must follow to hear it's tinkle," She drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Alright. I guessss I'll just follow the code or face the punishment of death by high heel to the head. Their very cute shoes, but that color doesn't go with my eyes."

The other girls laughed with Y/N as she finally relented, letting Louisa lead them away through the incredibly thick crowd. The boys were left behind to "guard" the drinks and make sure James Orville didn't steal any more chairs for his own table. If they'd look behind them, they'd have seen a smug Kent sitting down abruptly on Oliver's knees, keeping him trapped as Peter moved to tie the other boy's shoes together.

Once in the toilets, Y/N, and Betty took the time to fiddle with hair or reapply lipstick while, Louisa, Eliza, and Nelly did their business. Out of the corner of her eye, Betty noticed Y/N looking at her with smirk. Her ruby red lips were partially hidden behind the drink she'd brought with her, but Betty could see she had something to say.

"Alright. What is it you wanna say," turning to her friend, Betty raised an eyebrow in question at her glance.

Y/N smirked wider now. "Oh nothing... Do you wanna try my drink," she offered, holding the caramel colored liquid forward.

"Na, that's alright. I know how you am about sharing food. In fact I'm surprised you even offered," Betty reminded her with a smile. "You don't like putting your mouth on places where others' have been. Just the thought makes you ick, that what you said when Ollie stole your fork once. And if someone accidentally takes a bite of your food you'll avoid that area entirely, IF you even choose to finish it. I'm not gonna push you," Betty laughed good naturally at her friend's 'preferences' as she called them.

For as impulsive and out of pocket as Y/N could be, she did have interesting a habit of being very picky so to speak when it came to matters involving things that came into contact with other people. If she offered to share food she'd practically get the person their own plate for even a single bite, and sometimes she didn't even want to touch the dishes other people used if she didn't know if they were clean. Though that may one have came from an old friend who had a habit of putting dirty dishes back with the clean ones. She'd even gotten her own set of different utensils once. And that was only some of the things she did involving just food. And while she knew it likely wouldn't do any harm, she just sometimes felt there was often something off about using the same utensils as someone else just had or taking a sip from the same cup someone else did. She couldn't explain why, it just was.

Y/N have a short huffing laugh of her own at the truth in Betty's words as she continued, "Besides, Y/N. I do kinda agree with you on the food thing. Sharing chips and sandwiches is fine by me, but when it come to drinks there's too much change of backwash. I don't want that from no one you know?"

There it was. The opportunity Y/N was hoping she'd find a window for.

"Oh, absolutely. Backwash is a total no go. But I gotta ask Betty Boo.....when did Peter become 'no one' to be exact?"

Betty froze for a second, like a great secret was about to be uncovered, before she composed herself again and put on a confused look.

"What do you mean by that Y/N," commented Eliza, who had come out to the sinks and only heard the end of the conversation was also confused. Turning to Betty, Y/N gave her friend a smile that's wasn't mean or cruel, more like Y/N had finally found the evidence to put the pieces together for proof.

"Well, I noticed a moment when we were back out at the table. See, there were seven of us but only five drinks. Now I know Kent isn't drinking tonight to make sure you lot get home later, but that still leaves one drink missing. And I know you're drinking tonight because I noticed you've emptied that glass twice as fast as you usually do. But that's because it isn't just your drink," she gestured to the drink in Betty's hand as Louisa joined them, "And it's not Nelly's either, I know y'all share sometimes too, but she got her own tonight," Betty began to blush knowing they'd been caught by now, but still let her friend finish. "Then I noticed it," Y/N continued her deductions, "You happened to take a sip of your glass once before putting it down on the table. And who was it that tied to sneakily take the glass for his own sip while we were telling Oliver not to make faces at the man across the way?.... Our very own Peter Escott."

Eliza gasped in astonishment, "Ohhh Betty! You're sharing drinks with Pete?!"

From the stall Nelly's own gasp and shout of "Betty's finally fucking Pete?" could be heard as she scrambled to get out.

All four girls looked at their friend, trying to hide their smiles as they waited for Betty's response.

"Shit."

Oh. That wasn't the response they were expecting. Immediately Y/N felt bad about asking. Maybe she should have just ignored her observations.

"What? OOOh Betty did you not want me to po.." she started to apologise but Betty interrupted as she began to laugh to herself.

"No, no it's not that. You just made me loose the bet." Now the rest of the girls were confused.

"Bet?"

"Who's Betting?"

"Betty's been betting?"

"Badly betting if she lost too. OOHH WAIT, does this have to do with the bonfire? And Pete?"

Shaking her head once, Betty downed the rest of her (and Pete's) drink before cutting her losses and finally admitting the truth.

"Ok fine, I'll admit it. Yes I am going around with Pete now," Her confession being briefly interrupted by the joyous congrats and eager gasps of her friends.

"Ahhhhhh"

"We knew it!"

"You two were always cute together."

"When did it happen? Give us all the details!!"

Betty, laughed again, slightly blushing at the story about to be told.

"So as you know Pete and I have always been close in a different way than we are with the rest of you. And I love all of you, but with Pete it's just a bit different. I guess that's why we use to fall behind a bit and talk. We could talk for hours and he listens and makes me feel like the most special girl in the world! But I wasn't sure if he felt the same way too and I was scared to ask. But then I guess he felt the same way because," She paused for second, reliving that moment from last week, "Then we had the bonfire last week. And well I realized I forgot my towel back by the river, right? And he offered to get it with me." The rest of the girls were surrounding a blushing Betty now, each eager to hear the story as she recounted her romantic tale. They'd have to be sure to tell Ruthie when they got back.

"And? What happened next?! Because we know you didn't just get the towel. Your hair was a mess, we want all the details!"

"Well, maybe not ALL the details but you know, enough."

Betty have a small laugh before continuing, "Alright I'll give you the details but you have to be quiet. And promise not to tell the other boys, I'm not sure if Pete wants them to know yet." After they promised, swearing on the cry board, Betty finished her tale. "So we went down by the water and found the towel. But when we saw it I looked up and saw how pretty the stars were wanted to sit down for a bit. He agreed and there we were. Sitting by the water, side by side, looking at the stars. Then there was a shooting on so I decide to make a wish. And you know what happened after that. I saw Pete looking at me all funny. He got this weird look in his eye like he couldn't make a choice. And when I asked what what wrong he asked if he could try something. Well I thought he was gonna try skipping a rock, but you know what he did?"

A collective "What," echoed from the rest of the girls.

"He kissed me, right on the lips."

The small bathroom was filled with squeals and cheers of excitement as Betty's story reached the climax.

"Ahhh Betty!! He kissed you!"

"Ohh on the lips!"

"He definitely loved you!!"

"I can already see the wedding!"

Suddenly their excitement was interrupted by a knock on the door and a gruff voice from outside.

"Everything alright in there? I heard yelling."

Maybe not humiliated, but still a little embarrassed their discussion could be heard outside, the girls were quick to reassure the man, "We're alright! Just a bit excited. Thank you though."

"Alright, well. Just be safe.... I guess," the man replies as he left, confused to what made the ladies room so exciting as he made his was back to his own table. Then the girls turned their attention back to Betty.

"So that's it? Y'all are finally together? That's brilliant," Y/N beamed, glad for her friend and that her observations didn't lead her astray. But evidently Betty wasn't done yet.

"Yes, but even that's not all. See when he kissed me I was a bit shocked and froze up. I mean, I liked it but I wasn't expecting it so I didn't know what to do. And when he pulled back I could see he thought he'd made a mistake. Like he thought I was gonna hit him for kissing me or that I didn't feel the same way. He looked like he was debating getting up and running away right there. So before he could I.... I grabbed him by the collar and held him there while I kissed him."

Another round of excitement was heard from outside at this new information.

"Oh Betty!! Look at you go!!"

"I bet he liked that."

"How long after that did you end up in the dirt?"

Betty rolled her eyes at Nelly's comment but still smiled at her friends. It felt good to finally tell them, even if she and Pete were having fun hiding it. There was something so enticing about a secret relationship no one else knows about, even if they all suspected it. But it was also fun to fawn over it with her friends. The girls gossiped about this new information for a while, before a few more women came in and they decided it was time to go back to the table. All of them left with grins and knowing smirks and they weaved their way back to the crowd.

When they arrived, Kent was still sitting on Oliver's legs, unbothered, while Pete had moved behind him to hold his arms behind his back. It appeared they were having a discussion of their own with Pete whispering something real close to Oliver's ear. But upon seeing the girls he let go of his friend and the boys froze, with Pete pretending to be interested in his drink while Oliver and Kent attempted to sneak their own knowing glances between Betty and Pete. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they talked about.

With a not displeased but still resigned sigh, Betty decided to do what she'd been wanting to all night. She scooted back into the booth before sitting on her boyfriends lap and giving him a kiss. Both the other boys' mouths dropped open in shock. Ok, so maybe they hadn't been talking the same thing when the girls were in the bathroom. After accepting the kiss Pete had pulled back eyes wide before looking at the rest of the group. He sputtered slightly not knowing what to say, he didn't know she'd finally told the girls. But before he could speak again Betty interrupted him.

"It's fine they know."

"They know?"

"Yep we know," Eliza interrupted, sitting down next to Betty again as the group moved to their original positions. Only this time, Betty remained on Pete's lap and now Y/N joined Kent on sitting over Oliver's legs as he still refused to move them.

"Was it the sharing a drink that gave it away" asked Oliver, thinking back to his original observation that led to the boys' own discussion.

"Yep," popped Y/N, patting Oliver's chest in agreement. Evidently she hadn't been the only one to notice the couple's less than sneaky tactics.

"Nice.... So now that the cats out of the bag for that fucking finally, who wants to go to the old water mill with me? I read a paper this morning about a foot that was found by the owner Saturday morning in the wheel. Sounds like a mysterious crime is a foot....Right? Get it? A Foot. Like they one found at the mill?"

Y/N gave a small snort as she hid her smile behind her hand, while the rest of the table groaned at Oliver's gruesome joke. She was absolutely glad she decided to see who it was sneaking through her window before swinging that day. If she hadn't then who's to say when such a great thing would have begun?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

#tommy shelby x child reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby

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