#how people can help them do their jobs. i want to make a trash truck fursona and a school bus fursona too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-shared-experience · 11 months

Text

I don’t think people truly understand how toxic

Our team responded to 22 substance poisonings today. It was a record high for such a short duration of time and all around us were sirens, ambulances, firefighters, police and peace officers. I couldn’t even make it one block without someone going down. I watched someone take one puff and go down. They rubbed their face off the pavement and turned blue all over. I injected naloxone into his leg and screamed for security to radio for backup. Airways, oxygen, cpr. He just wasn’t responding. Beside him were two other people slumped over. 2nd shot of narcan. Nothing. Firefighters helped me move the others and eventually 911 arrived. I restocked water and narcan and walked to the back gate to hit my vape. A girl approaches and says a man is down in the parking lot. I run as fast as I can and beads of sweat drip down my face as I inject him , he goes into a full seizure and all we can do is let it happen and assure him that he’s ok, he’s safe. He can’t speak. I pour my bottle of water on an abdominal pad and press it against the back of his neck. “ you’re safe, everything will be ok”. Another shot.

I walk out to flag the ambulance and notice a man down in the street. I grab a nurse and run to the crosswalk. It never seems to stop. Word on the street is that purple dope is carfentinil cut with metformin - a drug used to control blood sugars in type 2 diabetes and mannitol - a drug used to lower intracranial pressure.

People take one puff and fold over. I found a young girl bent in half , face planting the dirty cement ground covered in piss and blood. Her oxygen was tanked. I went to grab a pulse ox and noticed a body near the garbage.

An ambulance arrives and we are reading off vitals to paramedics when another fire truck pulls up. A paramedic yells to them , “ go to the next call” , in desperation.

My coworker looks at me and says , “ can I tell you something”

Of course , I reply.

“ I get really anxious anytime I hear sirens”

Another coworker and I tell the nurse fresh out of school that we feel the same and tell her it’s called ptsd. I tell her there’s a couple of us that close our eyes and see needles before bed. It vicarious trauma.

See the things is … we all want the drug crisis to be over because it’s killing people we love. It’s exhausting every sector of healthcare. We exist in states of pure adrenaline and then crash into the reality of how tragic it all is. Later in the day I sit with a young guy who tells me he had to narcan a girl he found in an alley. He keeps saying, “ she was fucking blue”. I ask if she ended up being ok and he cries. “ I hate this , I’m not a bad person I’m just homeless” he says in despair. I tell him I’m sorry. I tell him that lived/ living experience is vital in terms of connecting with people . You can’t learn this shit in a book. He stands up and shakes my hand like a gentleman. I thought it was a really sincere moment. True human connection.

I try to explain to people that when someone has nothing they will seek a dopamine hit through the chase of drugs. Scrounging up money, boosting things to sell and making new friends in the streets just to grip a tiny bag. When they get it their brain rewards them for accomplishing something. Imagine having no home to pay for, no job to go to , no one to come home to and no hope in sight… there’s no purpose, no passion, no pleasure, no reward.

It’s easy to say “ just get a job” but first one must detox without therapy to work through their trauma, they get released after 5-10 days onto the streets and have nowhere to go. They have no tent, no change of clothes, no cellphone, no internet. If they are lucky enough to get financial aid they have to physically go to the bank in the inner city because chances are they got rinsed for their belongings either by fellow community members or the cops throw out their items deeming then trash. This means they have no bank card, no identification. Gang members move throughout the city from one end to the other. “ you want down or pint” is usually the first question. Depending on the answer they might offer to give you drugs to sell with the promise of making some quick cash and then they rob you or maybe they get you high for free and rape you and start to pimp you out and even though it’s killing your soul you do it because sometimes you can sleep inside.

If you’re lucky enough not to have caught a transit ban or park ban, library ban, mall ban from loitering , compliments of the peace officers, then sure you can print up a resume if you panhandle a couple quarters but sadly you don’t have experience or education and after not paying the tickets for each offence you get warrants so now you have a criminal record.

Say someone takes a chance on you, how do they let you know? They can’t call you. You don’t have a phone or a credit score to obtain anything.

How do you get a good nights rest or get ready for work when you can’t shower, how do you sleep at night with gang violence, predators, overdose, extreme weather ?

What alarm clock exists ? Do you steal a watch and hope you don’t get caught ?

How do you tell your employer , “ sorry things might be a little shakey at first “ can you work my hours around the meal services provided by different agencies at specific times ? , can you drive me to the food bank and wait in line or should I just not come in that day because I don’t have transportation and it’s not really in an accessible location , ps do you know what day it is ?

It’s all so frustrating and I don’t want to burn out because it needs to change. The answer isn’t just safe supply and harm reduction , that is merely a small component. Safe supply is a cost effective way to greatly reduce the amount of overdose death and allow for more time to figure out solutions. It buys time, it prevents spread of infection and disease and it preserves health as optimally as possible. I, among many others, are proof that one can recover without expensive facilities, we only needed support and safety. People to care about us and services which are meaningful and impactful. For me, that was therapy and reconnection with family.

Yesterday was all violence. Knives, sexual harassment, overdose , gangs, pimps, hiv, hep c , dehydration, severe sunburn/ heat exhaustion and heat stroke, benzo and fent withdrawal , blood, stabbings, stbbi’s, hell one person with a knife threatened to kill me and another chased after my staff, not at the hated inner city faculties , but a public park where children play.

How are we recovering? What is the recovery model?

How can we keep using people in crisis as scapegoats for moral failure when they keep setting up tent cities near police stations and nursing stations begging for help.

How do people not understand that this is a housing crisis where people are displaced and acting out of desperation to survive the day. We chase them all over town to spare the public from being asked for spare change, set up services that are hard to get to on foot and so they waste each and every day in this never ending cycle of survival and berate them for not ‘figuring it out’

It’s literal madness.

Who’s recovering? I wish Danielle Smith could answer that.

Sorry for the rant. I passed out last night too tired to make myself dinner. I started my day by getting in car accident #2 in an Uber.

The extreme heat is getting to everyone. I walked home from my 11 hour shift and saw that gang members spray painted their tag all over my apartment building.

The sirens haven’t stopped.

0 notes

theunquenchablethirst · 3 years

Text

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

#gotham #jerome valeska #jerome x reader #fanfic #smut

546 notes · View notes

blackwoolncrown · 4 years

Link

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

But enough is enough.

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

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

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

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

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

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

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

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

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

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BASTARD 101

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

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

not

fucking

talk

cops.

Ever.

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

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

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

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

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

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

#acab

5K notes · View notes

statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Touch

Summary: Sweet pea/ reader/fangs ( platonic ) Sweet Pea and Fangs tease reader to give them a ride

”Please Y/N?” Sweet Pea bats his eyes and you laugh shaking your head.

“No.”

“Y/N, come onnnnnnnnnn.”

“Ask Toni, she has a shift tonight, makes more sense for her to..” You scowl a little hissing as Fangs scowls back, you try to keep your head down so the teacher doesn’t suspect anything, you know most of the teachers don’t actually care but you don’t want to test that theory.

”Hey uh, Y/N, you uh busy??” You can hear the edge in Fang’s voice and you immediately feel dread rising in your chest at the thought something has happened to his mom.

“No what’s going on?”

“Sweet Pea and I were riding back from a job and we thought we’d swing into pop’s and we wanted to get you something…”

“Oh my god you had me scared for a sec!” You laugh and Fangs coughs a little.

“No I wasn’t finished…”

“Go on.” The dread returns.

“So we got you a burger and fries and a shake, but when we were coming round to the Wyrm, a truck pulled out and we both had to jolt and ended up in that ditch that Joaquin got thrown into when he was trying to outrace… We’re fine! We’re fine but our bikes are trashed.” You sigh and pull your keys out intent on picking them up, you send a text to Toni as well as Joaquin as you rev your bike up to help them bring their bikes back to the shop.

”I helped you two when you got the bikes trashed and I said I’d go with you to pick them up but I’m not playing chauffeur to both of you cause you want to go sneak a whiskey when Tall Boy goes out to take a smoke break.” You huff. It’s the second day that Sweet Pea and Fangs are bothering you about you driving them to the Wyrm, it doesn’t matter that it’d be two trips, it's the principle of how they always resort to poking and prodding you, thankfully they seem to avoid your hands. You’d always hated people touching your hands for as long as you could remember. Nothing had happened when you were a child, there wasn’t some horrible tragic story where your hands were burned or someone had hurt you, it just made your skin crawl and your stomach twist anytime someone's skin brushed against any part of your hands.

“Please Y/N…” Fangs starts and you can hear how is voice dips, you can feel his hand creep up your side and you know he’s going to attempt to tickle you. Sweet Pea’s hand nudges your shoulder as you walk with them to the usual lunch spot.

“So Y/N, you’ll give us a ride after lunch yeah?”

“No.” You huff, and try to shove them away, in doing so they both move their hands and you scowl as they don’t try to just tickle you into submission.

You freeze, both of their hands clamping around yours, you forget to breathe for a second and feel like you’re watching them drag you towards your bike, they lift you as if you’re a toddler and put you on your bike, fangs awkwardly climbing back on and grinning as they both let go of your hands. You flex your fingers, finally free and you sigh a little, swinging your leg back over and walking a few steps away.

“Y/N?” Sweet Pea’s voice waivers a little, you can tell he realizes they’ve both gone too far.

“If either of you two touch my hands again…” You sigh, cutting yourself off and can see Fangs chuckle a bit, clearly unaware how serious you’re being. You pull your knife, sliding up next to him, it pressing into his stomach.

“You’ll get a nasty second scar under your bullet wound Fogarty, and you.” You turn glaring as Sweet Pea.

“I’ll skin your Serpent scales.” You hiss, walking back to class leaving them standing around your bike.

“Y/N you okay?” Toni asks as she watches you slump back into the lunch table.

“If Fogarty and Sweet Pea ask me for a ride again I’m gutting them.” You tuck your knife back watching the rest of the serpents look warily at you.

Support My Writing?

53 notes · View notes

ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Noxious Silence

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: non-con, hypnotism, somnophilia, alcohol, obsession

AO3 Link

The two of you met when you started as a first-year along with Maki, Panda, and Yuuta.

You instantly became friends with each and every one of them but Inumaki remained as a stranger. Although you liked him more than a friend should and wanted to be close to him, he acted cold towards you for a reason you never managed to understand until one day when you all became seniors.

A simple rule of the dorms, two of the seniors buy the necessities for everyone once they all run out.

It was a rule older than you. This wouldn’t be the first time you had lost at rock paper scissors against Maki and were tasked with the duty but it was the first time you were paired up with Inumaki.

Unlike any other times you went out to buy the necessities, your trip to the large store with Inumaki went uneventful.

After the two of you bought everything everyone needed and returned to the dorms, he offered help to you carry your stuff to your room.

Nice gesture, kind and quite unexpected since he usually kept his distance when it came to you.

Nonetheless, it made you blush because your crush had stepped inside your room. Perhaps, you could tell Maki about it after dinner, albeit how much she hated listening to you talk about Inumaki, she kind of enjoyed seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about him.

Finally done putting away the stuff you had bought, you turned around to find Inumaki crouched in front of your laundry basket, with one hand he was holding one of your panties up to his face, his shoulders moved as he inhaled your scent deeply.

Your cheeks flushed and mouth gaped in shock, “Hey-”

“Take off your clothes.”

Limbs turned into stone first. Then your body moved on its own against your will.

He locked your door.

“Get on your knees.”

No matter how confused and scared you felt, you were at his mercy. Even when he unbuckled his belt, you hoped he would abruptly stop and laugh. This had to be a joke, right? But you knew Inumaki wouldn’t go this far for a joke and pull his cock out in front of you.

“Suck it.”

~~~

Days after that day until graduation was hell. If others noticed your change of mood or behavior, they thought of it as the stress of having to get your license to become a professional sorcerer.

Why was he doing this?

Was he doing it to anyone else?

No, you would have noticed if he was. You knew he wasn’t. You hoped he wasn’t.

You couldn’t tell others about anything, even if you wanted to.

“Don’t tell anyone about things we do in your room.”

Thankfully, you never saw him again after graduation and you drowned yourself in work to forget about everything.

At least that was the plan.

~~~

"You’re up early today," Nobara said and took a moment to take a sip from her coffee. “I didn’t think you’d call me this early to help you with the shop.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You had thought she wouldn’t think much of it. Maybe not. Nobara could easily tell when something was wrong. At least when it came to your well-being.

“Did you pull an all-nighter?” she asked, raising a brow.

You nodded.

But she was smarter than that. She pouted before asking a more specific question, “Were you out working late again?”

Caught in your ‘not really a lie’, you smiled at your friend and gave her an apologizing look. “Yeah.”

“Maybe you should go out and meet new people instead of exorcising curses in the middle of the night,” she suggested and smiled back at you.

“I don’t like going out alone.” Putting away a bouquet of roses, you noticed the time. Your delivery would be here soon.

“Well, you’re going out to exorcise curses all by yourself,” she pointed out and crossed her arms over her chest. “Surely, you can go to a club or a bar to meet new people.” Letting out a sigh, she took another sip from her coffee. “So whaddya say to going to a bar tomorrow?” A large smile tugged at her lips. “Together,” she added but after she didn’t get the reaction she wanted from you, Nobara insisted. “Come ooon! It’ll be fun!”

“Okay! Okay!” you laughed loudly, agreeing to go out with her.

“It’s decided we’re going out tomorrow!” she clapped her hands and then pointed a finger at you, “You have to dress up though, maybe you’ll meet some cute guys there!”

You were about to protest but you knew you needed it. You needed the closure of another person. You desperately needed to socialize with new people and stop working overtime. So you gave in.

“The delivery will be here soon. Can you throw the trash out?” you pointed to the back of your shop.

Nobara left her coffee cup on the counter to walk around the cash register so she could grab and tie the trash bag before dragging it to the back of the shop.

You took her absence as an opportunity to go to the bathroom but as soon as you started got out you heard her yelling for you from the back.

“The delivery truck is at the back!”

You shouted back an ‘I’m coming’ and walked to the back of the shop to greet the delivery man, signing the documents about you receiving the packages.

“Let’s get to work.” you cracked your fingers before lifting two small packages, “We have to put the ones with yellow stickers on top in the storage room.” You pointed at the yellow stickered boxes with your foot. “The rest has to be behind the counter so I can put all of them to the glasshouse and fix them into displays after lunch.”

Your simple explanation was all she needed, she bent down to lift one of the yellow stickered boxes and easily carried the two packages inside.

Wanting to match up with her, you put down the small packages you were holding and instead tried lifting one of the boxes but you could barely lift it up to your ankles. You huffed and tried again.

When Nobara came back to grab another box, she saw you walking over to the other packages that were supposed to go behind the counter, you easily lifted one of them. You stacked three of the boxes on top of each other and walked past Nobara to get inside.

“You’ve got this!” she cheered mockingly and patted your back lightly to avoid making you fall.

You grunted in response, “I can’t even lift the boxes from the ground.” You walked to the front room to do nothing but watch as your friend carried the boxes inside alone.

Once Nobara was finally done carrying all the boxes inside the storage room she glared at you for making her do all the work.

Noticing her glare you winked at her, “You know you love me!”

~~~

You were watching the ceiling, as usual. The television was turned on for distraction from the world itself. you didn’t like how quiet it could get during the night. The television mostly functioned as white noise for you to meditate as you laid in your tiny floor-bed. Not even a futon.

The small apartment didn’t have any furniture other than your so-called bed and a small couch. The television was a present from Nobara’s girlfriend but there was nothing else in the apartment other than the coffee machine in the kitchen.

Although you didn’t have any furniture or a real bed, you didn’t mind it.

Living an absolute minimal life was fine as long as you had a job and friends you treasured, yes, it was fine.

Having only a few friends, you had never shown your weak side to them since there were certain thoughts rather than emotions you could never let out. It was simply for the sake of being safe, your friends didn’t need the negative thought you had within yourself in their lives. You didn’t want to disappoint anyone with your inner thoughts.

Finally managing to stop daydreaming, you got up from your bed to put on a dress before fixing your hair. Everything you had on could be considered too much effort for going to a bar but Nobara had told you to dress up nicely. She always liked you dressing up whenever you went out together, simply for the fun of it.

Unbeknownst to you, it was because she wanted you to take your time doing some self care.

It was going to be fun tonight, at least you hoped so.

~~~

“The food here is greasy,” you commented when Nobara said she wanted to get something to eat as you opened the door for her to walk inside the bar.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Just like how you like your man.” She laughed at her own joke as you vaguely noticed a familiar group of people and a panda sitting on a table.

“I thought it was going to be just us tonight,” you mumbled, hand going to clutch your bag nervously.

“The more the merrier,” Nobara said, putting a hand on your back to lead you towards the people you went to school with. “Plus, you never come to our reunions. It was the perfect excuse!”

“You came!” Yuuji jumped up from his seat when he noticed you and Nobara walking towards the table he was sitting at. His cheeks tinted pink and his neck red. You could see that he was holding a non-alcoholic beverage.

“Of course, I did,” you replied, putting your bag down before waving at the large group, your eyes landed on Inumaki but you quickly averted your gaze.

Everyone was here, just as Nobara probably planned. Yuuji’s arms wrapped around you tightly, he was mumbling about how much he missed you, and so on. Quickly, he led you to the group, forcing you to sit between him and Megumi.

“You look different!” Yuuji said, turning to Megumi. “Right?”

“It’s been a while since she graduated, of course, she looks different,” Nobara responded and then pointed a finger at you threateningly. “You have to come to the reunions at Maki’s place more often! We always get together to drink and all!”

“You make me do those every week,” Maki scoffed. “Not everyone can keep up with your over-the-top parties.”

Pouting, Nobara turned to Maki with her usual puppy eyes. “I thought you liked my parties.”

“I do,” she paused. “When people show up to them.”

Yuuji laughed and you covered your mouth to stifle yours.

“How ya been?” Yuuji asked, he sounded genuinely curious.

You sighed and your lips curled up into a smile. “Busy. I work under a professional sorcerer even though I have my own license. I do extra work at night alone and do extra work at my flower shop.”

“Sounds tough and way too busy.” He took a sip from his own drink. “I’ve been working with Gojo since graduation so I know how it feels.”

Jokingly, you patted on his back. “I’ll pray for you.”

Inumaki watched the two of you talk with half-lidded eyes, hiding his frown behind his own drink.

“What are you gonna order?” Nobara asked, only then you realized everyone had their own food or drink on the table. Grabbing the menu she was holding out to you, you swiftly glanced at it before deciding to order a cocktail. “I think I’ll just drink tonight, something fruity would be nice.”

“Oh, I’m gonna order a hamburger and a coke.” She got up from her seat and turned to the others to ask if they wanted anything. Nope, she turned around her heels, “I’ll go order for both of us from the bar, the waitress seems busy.”

You followed Nobara’s stare and found yourself looking at the waitress who was scrolling on her phone by the corner.

“Maybe, they don’t serve tables after a certain hour,” you said. The last thing you wanted was Nobara complaining to the owner of the pub.

“She’s right,” Maki agreed.

“Yeah... maybe.” Nobara squinted her eyes at the waitress and walked to the counter on the other side.

“So, anyone special in your life?” Maki asked, smiling behind her drink.

Inumaki put his drink down the table with a little too much force, it made a thud noise, nothing too loud. Nonetheless, it made you jump in your seat.

Stay calm. You would be safe with this many people around.

You shook your head rapidly, “N-no.”

“Really?” Yuuji raised a brow, “I thought you weren’t coming to Kugisaki’s parties because you were with your boyfriend. I heard one in every three women has a boyfriend. Since those two are single you must have someone, right?”

Ah, right… None of the boys knew about those two. There even was a rumor going around about Nobara liking Yuuji. Haha... You caught Maki looking a little uncomfortable but none of you said anything. You didn’t have anything to say anyway.

“She seems uncomfortable,” Megumi informed. “Stop bickering about it.”

Thanks to Megumi’s warning, Yuuji backed off and you offered him a smile in appreciation.

The night hadn’t even started and you had already begun to regret going out but you changed your mind after Nobara came back to the table with your drink.

By the time you were drinking your second drink, you started to think that this could be the best night of your life. You had missed these guys.

“Can l have everyone’s attention?” Nobara stood up from her seat, Maki hit her own forehead in embarrassment. A couple of heads turned to look in your direction since she was being a little too loud.

The atmosphere and people who came here were usually quiet after all. You didn’t know why you had come here over all the places you could have gone to but then you remembered how bad the nightlife here in the city was during winter. It was either this quiet pub, the sophisticated cafe, or that one place you and Nobara both had sworn to never go ever again.

Once every head turned to her she smiled and continued. “Thanks for everyone coming here tonight.” Panda started cheering, she shushed him and spoke once again. “I’m very glad to have you all here and-” she started sobbing, “I’m so happy we’re here altogether even though we’re missing some people and-” She choked up on her words.

Maki got up from her seat with a sigh and hugged the girl, trying to get her to sit down before she embarrassed herself more. She regretted letting her taste her cocktail. Yet, Nobara stood up and spoke again. “This is for (name)!”

Following her lead, everyone lifted whatever drink they were holding and held a toast for you.

Everyone kept chatting and drinking. Soonly you lost track of time and began to doze off a bit. You could barely keep your eyes open. You stared down at your drink, listening to your friends’ chatter was kind of soothing. Out of a sudden, you felt something drop. You felt feverish and held on to the nearest person you could cling to. You were clinging onto Megumi, who jolted in surprise.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

Shaking your head, you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Uh oh! We have a puker!” Nobara laughed and hiccuped.

As Megumi made a move to help you towards the bathroom, Inumaki appeared behind you.

“Takana,” he said, nodding in Megumi’s direction and grabbing you by your arm. Following him, you hastily walked towards the bathroom, Maki was watching the two of you closely, before she could follow you to the bathroom Panda grabbed her wrist.

“She’ll be fine.” He gave her a genuine smile and Maki returned to the table where Yuuji had arrived with more drinks. She sipped her cocktail and decidedly carded her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair who was trying to get over her hiccups.

Inumaki opened the stall and let you down. You started puking while sobbing. He brushed your hair back to your nape and lifted it so that you could empty your stomach in relief. He was rubbing your back to help you.

A groan left your lips before you retched grossly, you could feel something was very wrong, you lifted yourself up from the toilet seat.

“Takana?”

You flinched, you had forgotten who was in here with you. He was holding out paper towels for you to wipe your mouth. Quickly taking the paper towels from him and wiping your mouth clean, you nodded slowly.

“T-thank you.” Stuttering, you tried to get up but stumbled backward. “Can you help me to get back to Nobara?” you asked when he helped you get up.

“Okaka.”

You tried to stand up straight, you were trembling, your legs were like jelly. You could feel the feverish heat from drinking too much spreading through your body. You had to go home, or somewhere far away from Inumaki.

Pushing him away, you walked towards the door until suddenly collapsing to the floor when your head sharply spun. Your legs weren’t capable of holding you up, especially right now when you were this drunk.

Inumaki helped you up, he was holding you in between his arms, your back pressed against his chest. “Please, I… I wanna go home…” You felt him press his nose into your hair, taking a long whiff and press himself against you.

Yelping, you squirmed, moving away from him.

He gave a sigh in annoyance. He never liked it when you struggled too much, you knew that.

It was as if the world was moving in slow motion, he opened his mouth to say something and you helplessly stood there, unable to do anything but cover your ears, hoping you wouldn’t hear it.

“Sleep.”

~~~

“Are you sure?” Maki slurred, silently cursing herself for drinking.

“Inumaki always used to hang out with her, I think he can take care of her,” Panda said. “What’s her address?”

All the heads turned to the now asleep Nobara. Maki cursed herself once again for letting her girlfriend drink.

“Well, she can stay at his place, right?” Yuuji asked, trying to fix the skirt of your dress so you wouldn’t flash anyone while Inumaki carried you on his back. “He has a guest room, it’s very big too!”

Megumi nodded approvingly, “Yeah, he does. I’d stayed there before. I think it’d be fine if she slept there for tonight.”

Maki had to take a moment to decide. Her place was going to be full tonight, she already had a drunk girlfriend she needed to carry back home aside from the other two idiots who were going to crash at her place. Ugh, if only Nobara hadn’t promised to let Yuuji and Megumi borrow their guest room, or if only she hadn’t let Nobara taste her drink, she could have taken you with them.

“O-okay,” she relented. “Make sure she drinks a lot of water throughout the night and call her a tab in the morning, if she can’t pay I’ll pay for her later so lend her money.”

Inumaki nodded and took a step forward to walk past the group’s table. Everyone told him to be careful and have a goodnight, he simply bowed his head before he exited the bar.

Once outside, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Thankfully, the walk to his place was short.

~~~

When Panda told him that they were going to meet up in a bar to surprise you for a reunion, Inumaki had no choice but tag along.

He knew you had been avoiding him, he wasn’t that dumb but each time he went to Nobara’s reunion parties at Maki’s place, he hoped you would be there. Yet you were nowhere to be found, nobody but Nobara knew your address. It was as if you wanted to disappear from everyone’s lives but Inumaki could never forget anything about you.

No one could easily forget their first love after all. Although he had heard people say first love never lasts, it simply wasn’t true. Because no matter if it was the first or the last, true love never died.

Inumaki knew he would take his last breath thinking about you and he wished you would do the same. However, with the way you were acting, it was easy to tell you were confused about who your true love was.

So, he gave you time. You would come back to him once you realized how nobody could love you as much as he did.

He also liked to believe he was forgiving when it came to you if it was about you needing space and that you had a believable reason to push him away. Nevertheless, seeing you at the bar in that dress you probably wore to impress some nobody and let both Megumi and Yuuji touch you like that… It made him angry. Jealous.

Nobody touched what was his.

Taking off your dress and underwear, he looked at you with admiration. Just as he guessed, your naked body looked the best. It had been an awful long time since he had seen you.

An airy gasp left his lips while he placed a hand on your naked chest, trailing his fingers down, down, and down until he could run a finger across your slit.

Despite being asleep, you were wet.

He held his finger up to his face to stare at the small bead of clear fluid that ran down the digit, not wanting to let it go to waste, he licked it.

Luscious as always.

His cock was painfully hard against the rough fabric of his jeans but he had time. Unlike any other times at the dorms, tonight both of you had full privacy to do whatever you wanted without anyone interrupting your precious intimate moments.

Inumaki crawled between your legs on his bed and took a skillful lick against your pussy. A smile crept on his face when your body reacted. Using his thumbs, he spread your folds to expose your bare pussy to his hungry eyes. He watched small bits of your juices connecting your folds together split and break apart before he slurped them to savor your taste.

He flicked his tongue on your clit repeatedly to see if it would wake you up but your legs moved slightly, nothing else.

Taking a shaky breath from excitement, he pressed his tongue flat on your clit before drawing tight circles on the sensitive nub. This time, he heard you exhale sharply along with a hum.

Gently, he took your clit in his mouth, letting his teeth graze over the nub faintly before swirling his tongue around it. He added two digits into the mix, curling them just the way that made you buck your hips. When you responded as he thought you would, he started scissoring his fingers in and out of you and continued flicking his tongue on the sensitive nub.

Soon enough, your breathing got uneven and you jolted awake. He slurped all of your juices that gushed out of your slick heat, no matter how confused you were the sensations of him sucking and licking your cunt made you instinctively grab a chunk of his hair as you arched your back involuntarily.

He pulled himself back from you, eyes hazy with lust, reddened lips were swollen and glistening from leftovers of your juices.

You blinked a couple of times. Looking around to understand where exactly you were and the framed pictures of you and your classmates were enough to let you know if the familiar smell that belonged to him wasn’t. A laugh escaped you, it was too absurd and pathetic. The shame you felt wouldn’t go away if you tried covering your naked body so you covered your eyes with your forearm instead, sobbing softly.

Your sobbing became louder when you felt the bed sink, indicating him crawling on top of you. He wrapped a hand around your wrist to pull your arm away from your face but you kept your eyes closed, refusing to look at him.

His hot breath ghosted over your face, his free hand caressed your cheek gently and placed his thumb on your lower lip. He cupped your cheeks and squeezed them until your lips puckered.

You felt him press his lips onto yours, he squeezed harder, prying your mouth open to worm his tongue inside of your mouth. The taste of your own juices and his saliva mixing together in your mouth was too much. Squirming, you turned your head to the side abruptly to prevent him from kissing you.

“Is it because I’m weak?” you forced a chuckle, your voice broke out to a sob. “Is it because others could overpower you unlike me?”

For the first time tonight, you met his gaze. He shook his head slowly disappointedly as if the things you asked were nonsense.

“Why then?”

He left your question unanswered and leaned down to your face, pausing when your lips were barely touching. “Kiss me,” he whispered as the two of you were breathing on each other.

Your lips parted, allowing him to suck your bottom lip into his mouth before moving his tongue inside to massage your tongue. You were complying thanks to his order, rolling your tongues over each other and kissing him back as hungrily as he kissed you.

Inumaki broke the kiss, watching the glossy strand of saliva connecting your lips together slowly thin and split apart as he tried unbuckling his belt using one hand.

The sound of his belt buckle rattling and the tugging of a zipper made you look at him, watching his every movement as he tugged down his jeans, his rock-hard cock moved under the damp spot on his boxers while he tried getting rid of the jeans.

Next was his shirt, he reached with two hands behind his head, grabbing the shirt from the back of his neck, and yanked it off over his head in a swift motion.

It made you blush despite the situation, the way he moved was as if the two of you were intimate lovers.

Silence in the room caught his attention, his eyes landed on you after he threw his shirt towards a laundry pile. You were laying on your back, blushing while looking at him.

“Sujiko,” he breathed, sounding astonished and enjoying this vulnerable side of you that you were showing him. He had missed you, there was no reason to hold back anymore.

Inumaki hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, letting his cock bounce free as the pressure of the fabric disappeared.

Once naked, he moved between your legs, closing the distance between your hips agonizingly slowly.

He drooled over his cock, covering it generously in his slick saliva, and wrapped a hand around the base to give his throbbing erection a slow pump as he continued watching you. Noticing your eyes on his hand wrapped around his cock, following it as he slid it along his length, he pulled back the thin layer of skin to show you the pink tip glistening with precum.

Your mouth gaped, watching his fist twist as it moved closer towards the tip of his cock.

Decidedly, he tapped the tip of his cock on your clit and dragged it along your folds to coat it with your juices.

“It looks bigger than I remember.” You were more surprised than he was, what you said was something that slipped, unbidden. Just thinking out loud. It wasn’t even supposed to spur him on but Inumaki shoved his entire length inside of you. “W-wait-”

Both of you moaned for different reasons.

He swallowed hard, his vision almost fading to black because of the gummy flesh of your insides pulsating around his cock. Balancing himself on his arms and only taking a quick moment to catch his breath, he pulled out before frantically pushing his cock back in.

“Don’t move,” you pleaded, “It hurts.” You grabbed him by the shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as the girth of his cock stretched your walls to take the shape of it. His size was overwhelming and unbearable, you hadn’t had sex in too long, meaning that your fingers were tiny compared to his cock.

As you tried moving away from him by digging your heels onto the bed and pushing yourself up, Inumaki wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you closer to himself with his cock buried deep inside you.

“Don’t run away from me,” he whispered, his voice husky and breathless. He needed to drink his cough syrup right now if he didn’t want his throat to bleed. But having a sore throat was a small price to pay if it meant he could let you know about his feelings. “Put your arms around me, hold me tight.”

Your heels that were digging onto the sheets went limp upon his words. Hands that were trying to push him on his shoulders suddenly wrapped around his neck, desperately pulling him closer.

“Let go of me,” you hissed but his lips crashing against yours shut you up. He tasted of blood, his tongue was smothered by that coppery taste. You didn’t get to grimace as he surged his hips forward, rather forcing a moan out of you to snake his tongue down your throat.

You felt dizzy from his pace, a scream of pleasure left your lips, causing him to break the kiss. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, grunting, still continuing his beastly pace and licking the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Toge,” you moaned, trying to get him to slow down but hearing you say his name sparked something within him. It had been so long since he had heard you call him by his first name.

His hips moved at a frenzied pace, he was humping you frantically like a rabid animal in heat. He was desperate, anyone could tell. Since he had his arms around your waist, you had nowhere to run, he pounded in your slick heat rapidly, putting his entire weight behind each thrust to reach deep inside you. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix every single time he slammed his hips against yours and his balls slapped against your ass.

“Be mine,” he begged, his voice deep yet faint and almost scratchy. “Be mine, be mine, be mine, be mine-”

This time, you kissed him, catching him off guard and stopping his babbling. None of you knew if it was his cursed speech that did it or if you did it with your own will. Even so, your lips sloppily moved against each other as his pace slackened a little but not quite.

Your legs wrapped around his hips when he started angling his hips to stroke the gummy flesh of your insides with each thrust as he kissed you. Kind of romantic if anything.

Sickeningly, your walls clenched around his cock at the thought. Your hand moved between your bodies and rested on your clit to draw tight circles on the nub. Your gummy insides pulsated around him. His hips started moving staggeringly, he was losing his rhythm because of you.

Inumaki slammed his forward and withdrew himself from the kiss, a spring was coiling tightly in his guts as he stared at you dreamily. He wanted to cum looking at you.

A wave of pleasure abruptly washed over you like a lightning strike when you felt his cock throb inside you. Completely dissolving into pleasure, you moved your hand on your clit faster.

As your orgasm was shaking to your core, Inumaki was lost in his world, chasing after his own release but thanks to your pussy palpitating from your high, he didn’t have to keep going.

His cock throbbed and he buried his cock deep inside your cunt one last time until the warm bursts of his thick seed could flood your womb, making your tummy feel pleasantly toasty.

Time slowed, yet he continued fucking his cum into you, he wasn’t done indulging in your heat.

At least, that was until he heard you mewl out his name.

He was brought back to the present, his cock still pressed snugly inside of you as he listened to what you had to say.

“Please let me move on,” you begged, voice breaking. Your eyes were glossy with tears but you tried holding them back. “I knew from the beginning that you were just playing with me but… no matter how painful it was, I was glad to be embraced by you.”

Inumaki smiled, his hand went to caress your cheek, his thumb drew a gentle circle on the soft skin and he shook his head.

You leaned into his touch, “Why me?”

He mouthed something that made your tears spill down. Wiping your tears, he pressed a kiss on your lips, promising you to never let you go without saying anything.

In the end, silence spoke louder than words.

#inumaki x you #inumaki x reader

231 notes · View notes

shelby-love · 3 years

Text

MATT CASEY

Ex-military

Requested: yes (by anonymous)

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Word count: 1.1K

Author’s note: Wrote this in one go and I feel like its absolute RUBBISH! Sorry for the long wait hopefully it’s okay. I’d give it a 6 out of 10 just for the lack of adjectives!

p.s Don't make fun of me my friends I tried really hard to make this disarming thing seem legit! You can obviously tell I’m not cop material lmaoo.

Requests for One Chicago are closed! Click here to see for which shows/movies the requests are open!

"How on earth did he even manage to get there?" you mumble, drilling into the suspect with your eyes. The only thing that was currently keeping him from dropping 100 feet to his death were the ropes and the firefighter next to him that was making sure he got down as graciously as possible. Even though he did not deserve it whatsoever.

Wallace Boden glanced back at you, pulling his hands into the air. "Don't ask me officer."

You shook your head with a sigh, clutching the ends of your vest tighter with your hands if that was even possible. Your eyes came together as you squinted them to look past the sun, wanting now more than ever to have a pair of sunglasses on your face. Your partner, Jay Halstead, was leaning against a black SUV, arms crossed over his chest and a pair of sunglasses on his handsome face. He watched the scene unfold before him and unlike you, the sun didn’t seem to faze him.

The street has been closed off, as expected in a case like this one. The unit had come heavily prepared 10 minutes ago, only to find the suspect hanging from a broken window being held up by nothing but his own pants. But he did look surprisingly peaceful as the Captain of truck 81 carried him down to the ground.

Creating order was your job and so you stepped outside the human shield of officers to help the Captain. "I'm here to take him off your shoulders, Cap."

Matt visibly smiled, chucking the man in front of him to take off his ropes. "By all means detective."

The next few seconds passed in a blur, barely even giving you time to assess the situation properly. Somehow somewhere, a gun was pulled out in the man's quick haste to escape. Pointing it to the unarmed Captain was his shot out of there.

Or so he thought.

It wasn't that you were thinking, more so that the amount of experience you had was what kicked in and brought you to action. The speed with which you had jumped in with to disarm the man only came from familiarity, and not from the rank. You grabbed the slide of the gun, clutching it tightly and obstructing the slide from cycling into a shot. The peacefulness he had carried with him was now long gone as he started to trash around, attempting to remove your grip and have full control of the gun again.

You didn't have it and instead pulled your elbow into his face until you heard, rather than felt, a sickening snap of bones. Your leg flew in right after, sending him hurling to the ground.

With the gun now in your possession, you allowed yourself to breathe. Tossing the gun from one hand to another like it was a toy, you turned to the stunned Captain. With a swift move of your hand, the magazine flew out and the gun was officially rendered useless.

"You aright, Cap?" You asked with a smirk, glancing at his chest that was raising and falling rapidly as puffs of air escaped his lugs.

Matt gave you a thumbs up, letting out the last panicked breath. "I don't know how you guys deal with this every day. You-"

"I have experience. But it was still a risky thing for me to do, I apologize."

Matt's eyes widened, "No, no it's alright. You definitely looked like you knew what you were doing."

You smiled, flattered in a way. "The military does that to you."

By now, the man was swarmed with detectives, and you didn't feel the need to interject, instead choosing the moment to walk the Captain to his truck. "You were in the military?"

"Mhmm," you mused, “That's where I learned how to do that."

You didn't even really know what name to call your little stunt. "Although I'm not anymore…in the military. Obviously. I mean, I -"

A heavy silence settled over you when you finally decided to stop rambling, thicker than the one surrounding the mass of police.

You felt incredibly awkward at that moment. Never knowing how to start a conversation with men, especially ones as handsome as Matt wasn't fairly uncommon for you. You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, showing him just how real you were without even knowing it.

People whistled when they saw what you did, expected you to be bold and confident because of it.

You weren't.

It intrigued him, and so he smiled, showing you his gleaming teeth. "Well, I think what you did back there was mind-blowing."

"Really? You really think so?"

Somehow getting a compliment from him was more than enough. Not even Voight's words will fill you up with pride like Matt's did just now. For whatever reason unfamiliar to you.

"I guess I owe you now," said Matt suddenly. Just as you were about to shake your head dismissively did, he stopped in his tracks, making you do the same too. "How about I return the favor with a drink?"

You pretended to think about it for a second, your toes curling in your combat boots as you did so, "Yeah sure. I'd like that."

The two of you exchanged details, scheduling your meet to be the following Saturday at Molly's.

You joined your unit with a skip in your steps and heart that was threatening to jump out. "What's with the smile?"

It was Jay who sneakily joined you by the car, looking at you with a knowing gaze in his blue eyes. The sunglasses hung on his dark red shirt, now forgotten due to the shade from the building. "I have a date!"

"With whom?" He asked, eyes just a bit wider than usual.

"Captain Casey."

Jay wiggled his eyebrows at, whistling proudly and bringing out his fist for you. You placed your own fist against his victoriously. "Atta girl."

"I know right?" You agreed dreamily, "All because I risked my life to get that gun away from him."

"I don't wanna be that person," Kevin Atwater came up to you with a frown, "But I think being ex-military has something to with all this."

"What do you mean?" You asked him.

"Oh, you know what I mean."

Kevin turned on his heels and stalked away after that, leaving you dazed and confused. "I seriously don't. What's he on about?"

Jay chuckled, slapping your shoulder teasingly. "Atwater thinks being ex-military helps you get noticed."

"Does it?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Realization shook you a little to late. Jay had already walked away by the time it happened, although his broad shoulders were still very much visibly to you. You glared at them and exclaimed after him, "There was chemistry before I did anything! I felt it!"

You did feel it, and so did the captain.

MASTERLIST

Here is the link to my tag list masterpost! If you want to be added to one of my existing tag lists (or perhaps new ones) let me know! :)

Tags (general): @fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102 @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @theravenclawmarauder @httphiddlestan @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre @abimoon @sofiasamps @princxss-fia @thirstykpophoe ; (One Chicago): @lorenakaspersen ; (Chicago P.D.): @scarletsoldierrr

#matt casey #matt casey imagine #matt casey fanfiction #matt casey x reader #matt casey one shot #matt casey masterlist #Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfictio #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire one shot #Chicago PD #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader

363 notes · View notes

wanderingwomanwondering · 3 years

Text

Buddie 508 - Fireside Chat Scene

Continuing what I started here.

This post is a long one. Please forgive me.

After their first attempt to save parker and his baby sister, buck and eddie are back at the truck resupplying and eddie is clearly on the edge of panic attack as he struggles to make sense of losing two kids in the fire.

I’ve seen some people say that buck is resigned in these scenes. Resigned to business as usual with eddie. Resigned to all that’s unspoken between them. I can grok that but I think there may be another layer actually??? There’s the unspoken trauma and their evolving relationships/feelings for sure, but there’s also the emergency nature of the situation at hand and their existing if rocky friendship dynamics. I’m gonna try to explain what I mean so bear with me because I don’t know if it’s even clear in my head yet.

Buck and eddie have their usual relationship dynamics. They have each other’s backs, inside and outside of the firefam. They care about each other and protect each other as much as they can, emotionally and physically. We’ve seen buck especially risk his life to save eddie’s and we’ve seen eddie especially hold buck’s emotional health in his hands and offer whatever he can to soothe him, heal him, and help him gain new perspective where necessary.

We get these typical dynamics because of who each man is as a person. Buck is the daredevil protector family-man risking life and limb for his loved ones. Eddie is the controlled, emotionally-reserved fighter family-man doing anything he can to protect the hearts of the people he loves. We see it regularly with how he interacts with both buck and chris, infinite grace that he never affords himself. Especially this season we see how important heart is to eddie in particular because of his long-standing issues with his own heart/emotional health and his overwhelming concern for chris’s heart especially (and buck’s but we haven’t quite gotten there yet in the narrative).

Obviously both eddie and buck are not strictly or only these things but it’s their baseline.

Well the baselines are changing due to the unresolved trauma they shared, the will eddie revised, and the evolving romantic feelings between them. The rules of engagement are changing and neither has the new manual! They aren’t talking to each other because they don’t have the new manual and they don’t have the new manual because they aren’t talking to each other. It’s driving me crazy but that’s a side note.

They still see each other in the old light, the light before everything changed between them. This matters because all they have to work with is the old rule book to work with right now. The old rules are inadequate beyond measure at this point!

Cue eddie’s near panic attack after thinking they lost the parker and his baby sister. This scene beautifully highlights that the old rules are trash. Buck wants to help, needs to help. He has empathy on his face while he’s telling eddie that they need to put it away and save the next one. It’s clear that he’s empathizing by his “we” language and his facial expression. It’s also clear that he’s trying to be the rock. Trying not to introduce more heavy emotions to a man that traditionally does not handle his own emotions well. Thanks Ramon. Buck is going back to the existing rule book because now is not the time or place or situation to try to write new ones or have a huge cathartic emotional moment.

Everything unspoken between them guarantees that if buck pulls on one thread, others will fray and unravel for both of them. It’ also true that eddie can’t and won’t ask for anything else right now, though he desperately needs something else right now, but he doesn’t know what that is and neither does buck. So we put it away and we save the next one. And it works for both of them for now. Not at all emotionally but they do the job and that is what they are there for. The rest has to come later.

The scene helps us and buddie see that later has to come and it has to come correct because eddie is obviously not okay and buck who needs to talk looks like he’s biting his tongue the whole time even while he’s empathizing and handing eddie an oxygen tank. Breathe enough for now to run back into the burning building. Breathe enough for now to carry on.

But eddie’s reflection is in pieces, fragmented and broken. Buck’s reflection is washed in the red of the firetruck, barely visible the way they filmed it but still there. Both men need a new mirror, a new reflection and that has to come from one another. They are at work but alone together in this scene. No other firefam folks are present. The show is reinforcing that when buck and eddie break, it will be between them. They have to deal with the changing relationship dynamics between them, write a new rule book. They’re struggling to get through their day because they won’t deal with things.

When they learn that parker and his baby sister are still alive, buck and eddie’s reactions are interesting. Buck is shocked. He’d given up but really he never gives up. Like I said, I see how we came to the conclusion that he’s resigned but I don’t think so when you get down to it. He’s waiting for a sign. He’s waiting for insight. He’s waiting for some sort of in/access point. Even if he worries that it will never come. Eddie is the one who catches the issue that initially made them think that parker and sis were dead. The reflection/perspective/point of view/self-image was off, backwards. The kid didn’t know where he was and neither do eddie and buck.

That fact underscores again that buck and eddie have to see themselves and each other. They have to turn the image around so that they can move forward. They have to find the rooms they are each actually holed up in instead the rooms where they think they are. It’s all about being disoriented and having to reorient. I think that’s going to involve some perspective taking and some changes in how they see themselves.

Buck can be the one taking care of eddie. Eddie can be the one being taken care of. A call back to the balcony scene.

Buck can invite emotional conversations without focusing on his own emotional needs and instead focus on eddie. Buck is used to people swooping in the take care of him emotionally (literally every conversation he’s had with maddie, most of his conversations with bobby, most of his conversations with eddie, imma just say it: even the tsunami arc where chris literally reassured him and gave him his personal playbook on how to deal with adversity). I want to be clear - it’s great that buck has support and when he starts to feel worthless people help him through it. But it’s time for a new rule book. It’s time for buck to be the one taking care of eddie. It’s time for eddie to learn how to create space for that to happen and to allow it!

Eddie can open up about his emotions. It’s okay if they are raw and unfiltered, buck can handle it. Eddie can ask for what he’s needs and figure out what that is with buck as a support/sounding board. Eddie can let go of his reserved repressed MO but he has to actually do that and all the work that entails. He’d usually rather run into a flaming building under cover of night than talk about his own feelings. If he doesn’t honestly talk to buck then buck is under no obligation to drag it out of him. He will but he shouldn’t have to. We’ve seen eddie trust buck in so many ways but real talk: his own emotions still are not a thing eddie talks about openly with buck and when he does it isn’t in detail. Basically we have the sh*nnon conversation in the s2 christmas ep where he honestly shared, unprompted his shame and guilt over everything that went down in the early years of his marriage and fatherhood. That’s kinda it. Everything else has been by chris-proxy. Buck and the audience have to infer. That gets messy and we are seeing that play out in s5! Eddie has to quit doing that and be vulnerable on purpose and also minimize the post-share retreat! That’s eddie’s work. Buck can’t do it for him. He can be with him through it but he can’t make anything happen with eddie’s emotional life that eddie himself doesn’t make happen or at least allow.

They both have so much work to do for themselves and with each other. They can and should do that work together and lift each other out of the dark in the process. I have so much faith in them even though I’m in real talk mode about who has what responsibility for their individual and mutual healing.

In the talk at the firetruck after eddie figured out the reversed numbers, buck seemed to have a revelation. The “he’s alive” line is ringing in my ears. The “i’m stlll alive down here” line from eddie begins is still ringing in my ears. Buck is watching and waiting for signs and I think he’s getting closer to realizing that eddie’s in there, suffocating under the weight of everything he refuses to say. And here’s buck who loves to talk, who hates to be avoided, who loves to keep his family together. He just needs an in, an opportunity. A real one. Not a moment of vulnerability during a raging fire while there are still people left to save. Still eddie’s moment obviously wasn’t for nothing. It mattered. It showed buddie and the audience what is and is not working with the current rules of engagement.

Between that and the situation with parker & sis, i think buck is starting to see his in. He sees that all is not lost. He can save eddie and eddie can save him. They are both trapped in a raging fire in the dead of night. Together. They have to work together to get out if it, but that will require new perspectives on self and each other, openness, and trust. They’ll get there but they’re not there yet.

This ep is called Defend In Place and that’s what buck and eddie are doing. Barricading themselves in and defending against the rising flames, but that’s not a long term strategy. It’s a stop gap measure to give enough time to accomplish something else, to save others’ lives and eventually/hopefully escape with your own before everything burns to the ground. The buddie fireside chat scene felt like that to me. Buck and eddie holding in place long enough and at an angle to see that something has to change, and seeing what that is consciously (buck, realizing eddie/both of them are struggling loudly) or unconsciously (eddie, giving a few words to his struggle probably without intending to), and then (eventually down the line) wrapping an arm around loved ones and getting the hell out bound for new not-on-fire territory.

#911 fox #911 meta #911 5x08 #long post #long meta #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie

27 notes · View notes

possiamo-andare · 3 years

Text

Just You (1)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.1k

summary: A new girl moves to OBX and a love triangle ensues. Your usual yearning, fluff writing :)

a/n: gosh, it has been too long. university has me swamped but since it’s the holiday break, i will try and update as much as i can. as of rn my other fic, sweeter, is on hold, while i try to write more and get back into the groove of things :) love y’all <3

Many people do not care to know the difference between new and old money. To the working class, new and old money were relatively the same. To some extent, that was true. People that had either new or old money were rich nonetheless but when you grew up rich like Rafe Cameron did, the difference was all that mattered.

The main difference was how the money was procured. Old money was passed down. No one from old money had to work since they were born rich. Their manners were taught at a young age. New money meant that they had worked for what they had. At some point, they were not rich and now they were. They were not as defined and they had to be taught, at an older age, how to act. Rafe’s mother used to say you could see who was from old and new money from their ties. If it was a man, their ties would be neutral colours, nothing flashy. People from new money usually had something to prove and so they would buy extravagant things. For women, it was their heels. Women from old money had small heels that were polished as well. Women from new money had tall heels and they had never learned that they should polish the heel along with the shoe.

Growing up as someone from old money, Rafe had normalized that there was a divide between the rich people in Figure 8. Of course, there was a divide between the Pogues and the Kooks but that divide was course and palpable. This divide was subdued and rarely ever spoken about. Kooks that came from old money lived on the west side of Figure 8 while the Kooks from new money resided on the east. This unspoken rule proved to be useful since the two groups of rich snobs never liked to speak to each other anyways. This rule had been in place years before Rafe was even born and he had thought it would still be there even after he died. That is, until Y/N moved in down the street.

It was at the beginning of June when she moved in. The first sign that things would end terribly was when her family pulled into the parking lot. Her mother drove a beat up blue Camaro while her father trailed behind in a black motorcycle. Most people that lived on the west side of the island didn’t have flashy cars but they were well maintained and not so loud. Everyone knew they were from new money before they even exited their cars. And when they did, it was confirmed these people had just become wealthy.

Rafe’s family, like most on the street, watched from their windows as a tall, burly man with a long black beard and sunglasses opened the truck of his wife’s car and carried two large bags in the door. His two sons, both similar in size and features, followed after him. They carried two pink suitcases inside as the man’s daughter and wife stayed outside to open their garage.

Rafe’s eyes glanced over their house. It was one of the bigger houses on the block but it looked more like a huge cottage than anything else. His mind went to the thought of hippies invading their neighbourhood. He gulped. If they were some type of laid back, motorcycling hippies, he’d go crazy for sure. He knew Sarah would love them though; she always complained about how boring their neighbourhood was. But boring meant normal and that’s what Rafe wanted.

As his mother gossiped on the phone, Rafe watched the mother and the daughter laugh together. The mother looked like a hippie. Her hair was tied up on the top of her head and it had clearly not been brushed. She wore a light green skirt that reached to her ankles which then led to the flip flops that she wore. A white t-shirt was tucked into her skirt and she had big bracelets of all different colours dangling off her wrists. The daughter’s style was similar to her mother’s. She wore pink bootcut jeans and a white crop top, black chunky platform boots pulling the look together. Her hair was different from her mothers and was let down to blow in the breeze. They all looked like polar opposites from everyone else living in Figure 8.

At first, Rafe could care less about the girl or her family across the street. Granted, he would religiously watch through the window for when she would come outside to ride her bike around the neighbourhood with her brothers, and yes, he would sometimes wait until she was outside for him to take out the trash but he didn’t like her. If anything, it was the opposite. Rafe was too good for her. At least, that’s what he led himself to believe.

The first time he spoke to her was two weeks after she moved in. His mother had told him to stay away from Y/N’s family and Rafe had done an amazing job at doing so. Unfortunately, that all stopped when he had to pick Sarah up from school. She had thrown up in the middle of one of her classes and since both his mother and father were at work, the responsibility was on Rafe to pick Sarah up and make sure she was okay. Although reluctant to go back to his old highschool, Rafe knew he’d be in trouble if he was late in picking up his sister. When he entered the school's administration office, he finally came face to face with the girl he had been watching for two weeks now. Except, her back was turned to him as she argued with the secretary.

“That’s what you call a vegetarian dish?” Y/N raised her voice, not particularly enjoying being ignored by the school administration. When she first had come to this school, she had checked off on her form that she needed vegetarian dishes for lunch. Now, everyday since she had come, they had served her horribly chopped up lettuce with vinegar.

“Miss -” Ms. Buzden said, placing her phone on hold. It was the student’s lunch break so she usually called her sister during this time but Y/N was keeping her from doing so.

“Y/N.” Y/N smiled, finally happy she had caught the woman’s attention.

Ms. Buzden rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. “Y/N, dear, if you have a problem with lunch, please take it up with the lunch ladies.”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the secretary’s desk. “I tried to, Beth, but she told me to come here. I will not be ignored.”

Rafe was almost as surprised as Ms. Buzden was when Y/N used her first name. As he stood behind Y/N, waiting for his turn to ask where Sarah was so he could sign her out, he watched in slight amusement at the fact she was nonchalantly complaining to the secretary.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you dear.” Ms. Buzden forced a smile, finally looking over Y/N’s shoulder to Rafe. “Rafe, sweetie, you’re here to sign out Sarah?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, knowing Y/N’s eyes were on his. He felt as if an imaginary spotlight had shown on him for a solo and he had forgotten the words. His eyes glanced toward Y/N for a moment but it did not help his stage fright. Her beautiful eyes were squinting in his direction and for a moment he thought he would faint underneath her stare. His eyes quickly returned to the secretary’s and nodded quickly. In an embarrassing turn of events, Y/N spoke before Rafe did.

“Hey, I know you.” Y/N’s bracelets clang together as she lifts her hand up and points at Rafe. “You’re my neighbour. You’re always watching me through your window.”

As the secretary busies herself with printing the paperwork, Rafe busies himself by stuttering and gasping for breath at the accusation she had just posed. In an attempt to save himself from anymore embarrassment, Rafe tries and fails at coming up with a good excuse. Instead, he denies the accusation entirely.

“I do not watch you.” Rafe stubbornly blubbers out. He’s trying not to seem so embarrassed but she’s caught him so off guard that there’s nothing else he can do.

Y/N snickers, watching the poor boy stumble on every word. For someone older than her, he was not very mature. “No, you’re right. Watching would imply a causal aspect to the activity. More like you stalk me.”

This time, Rafe boiled over with anger. How dare this girl accuse him of stalking her? Rafe did not chase after any girl, no matter how attractive she was. “That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it? To think everyone’s eyes are on you?”

Y/N continued to smile, unbothered by Rafe’s obvious rudeness. She shrugs, looking back to the secretary for a moment and grabbing her terrible vegetarian lunch before looking back to Rafe. “Not everyone’s. Just yours.”

And with that, she leaves the office. And Rafe knows he is screwed, because he just met the love of his life.

JJ Maybank shared almost everything with his friends. Emphasis on almost. They had always relied on him to be the funny one. To always goof around and take nothing seriously. So, when his dad first started beating after his mother left, he said nothing. He felt it was an unnecessary burden to put on the people that truly loved him. Eventually, the bruises and scars were too overwhelming to keep a secret anymore and he began to confess all his issues to his friends. But even then, as JJ tried to open up to the people he cared the most about, there was one thing he could never share.

He was scared of love.

Not just any love, but specifically romantic love. Every time he felt himself begin to develop deep feelings for anyone, he soon backpedaled and left them hanging. It was too scary to give himself to anyone. It would be a lie if he said it had nothing to do with his mother leaving. He had always believed that there was no love greater than his parents when he was growing up and when his mother left, it shattered him. Of course, he never blamed her for leaving considering how abusive his dad was but it killed JJ to know she did not want him to come with her. He had begun to believe that she didn’t think he was important to bring along. He believed that if she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave without him. That’s what scared him the most; the fact that someone can change their mind about love so quickly.

So, JJ ran at the first sign of love. And he never shared this with anyone. Until that day.

In early June, when Y/N had first moved to OBX, there was a Start of Summer Fair. Right after classes ended on the last day of school, people in the community organized a fair for everyone who was excited for the summer to start. It was exactly two weeks after Y/N had moved in. Exactly two hours after she spoke to Rafe. Funny how the world works.

Behind the fair, there was a small lake where rarely anyone ventured. It was usually muddy and no one in their right mind would go swimming there. With that being said, JJ wanted to go swimming there. He had spent a solid hour with his friends at the fair before becoming exhausted. It wasn’t so much that his friends were exhausting him but a girl named Anna was. He had gone out with her once and had never called her back (as per usual) but she had not picked up on the hidden messages JJ had given her. Instead, she followed him around during his entire time at the fair like a little lost puppy dog. Just as she announced she was going to the bathroom, JJ had almost died from boredom. Thankfully, her going to the bathroom let JJ slip away from his friends and sneak away from Anna.

“What do you want us to tell her?” Kie asked, watching as her best friend was breaking off from the group.

JJ shrugged, not possibly being able to care less. “I don’t care. For all I care, tell her I died.” A bit harsh, yes, but that’s how JJ operated. Abandon them before they abandon you.

The idea to hide near the lake hit him as soon as he left his friends. No one went back there, not if they wanted an infection. Although slightly disgusting, if that was what he had to do to get away and have a moment of peace, he would make that sacrifice. Unfortunately, he found no peace because the second the lake came into view between two thick trees, JJ saw a girl in the water. At first, he was going to leave, maybe even shout a quick joke her way for getting in the dirty water. But when he saw what she was doing, he became curious and couldn’t help but venture forward and investigate.

Y/N, too invested in what she was currently doing, did not see JJ approaching at first. Daisies had begun to grow around the lake, which was already odd on it’s own, but some of them floated on the surface level of the lake. Y/N thought a bunch of Daisies would be a good surprise for her mother so, in an effort to be thoughtful, she emerged herself, from the waist down, into the water. She was not afraid of the muddy water staining her white dress (she had worse stains on her clothes), even excited to show her mother the lengths she went to to get the Daisies. So, with one hand, she held onto a wicker basket full of Daisies and with the other hand, she grabbed a hold of the daisies in the water.

JJ watched in complete and utter fascination as this girl who he did not recognize, fearlessly went into the lake and plucked some Daisies to put in her basket. She almost didn’t even look real. He blinked quickly to make sure she was even actually there. When he opened his eyes and she was still there, he was glad he hadn’t imagined her.

Finally, Y/N sensed a presence that was not her own. Quickly turning to her right, she made eye contact with JJ and her face softened. He was the least threatening person she’d ever seen and something about him made her heartbeat pick up.

She brushed this feeling off and instead, with a small smile on her lips, spoke confidently. “Hello stalker.”

JJ blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps closer to the lake. “I’m sorry. Was just wondering what you’re doing here. No one comes here.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Y/N quips backs, a playfulness in her voice.

JJ thinks he might faint. “Um, well, I’m hiding.”

Y/N giggled. “Me too actually.” She grabs more daisies and puts them in her basket. She looks back up at JJ and speaks to him again. “Who are you hiding from?”

JJ gulps. He doesn’t want to scare away this girl by telling her why he’s come back here. He knows anyone else would judge him but, as he looks at her, he can see she would never judge him. “I’m hiding from a girl.”

Y/N nods, not expressing any disgust and JJ’s heart jumps for joy. “I see. Ex-lover, I presume?”

JJ shrugs. “We only went on one date.”

“Must’ve been a terrible date.” She jokes, and JJ realizes that she’s completely stopped what she’s been doing to listen to him.

JJ shakes his head, focused on her cute round cheeks. “Not really. She was nice.”

Y/N pouts. “Then why are you hiding from her?”

JJ feels as though it is too complicated to explain. And besides, how would he start? He’s never told anyone why he truly has never had a girlfriend. But something about this girl makes him trust her completely. He knows it’s the arrogance in her eyes. “I’m scared.”

Y/N nods, as if she understands him completely and he feels as though she does. “I see. You know, when I get irrationally anxious over something like this, I play the What If game.”

JJ’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

Y/N moves through the water and closer to the edge where JJ stands. When she arrives at the water’s edge, she reaches her hand out for JJ to grasp. He hesitates first and knows it’s because he likes her so much already and this will be the first time they will touch. The first time he’ll feel her skin against his is beside this muddy lake. Eventually, he grabs her hand and helps her out of the water and he knows, the second his hand touches hers, she’s his dream girl. His hands are on fire and he feels a pit in his stomach grow as her hand grips tighter onto him. There’s a spark and he’s sure there has never been anyone else that made him feel this way.

“The What If game,” Y/N starts, placing her basket on the ground. She starts to ring out the water from her dress but continues to keep eye contact with JJ. “is really easy. Here; tell me a fear you have about falling in love but make sure it starts with ‘what if.’”

JJ thinks for a moment. There are so many and he doesn’t know where to start. Finally, he chooses his biggest fear. “What if she leaves?”

Y/N smiles. “What if she doesn’t though? But, what if she does and then you find who you’re actually supposed to be with? The game is to just rationalize every irrational fear.”

JJ nods, a small smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “You’re not one of those girls who believes every breakup brings you closer to your soulmate?”

Y/N laughs. “Yeah, I wish. I’m not your manic pixie dream girl - wait, what's your name?”

JJ extends his hand, ready to feel her skin again. “JJ Maybank. Yours?”

Y/N smiles and shakes JJ’s hand. This should be interesting, she thinks. “It’s Y/N.”

“So, Y/N,” JJ starts, her name feeling good coming from his mouth. “If you’re not my manic pixie dream girl, then what are you?”

Y/N smiles. She was right. This is definitely going to be interesting. “I’m just yours.”

tagging; @tovvaa

268 notes · View notes

anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 1

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Warnings: Car accident, angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

A line ringing over your headset notifies you another emergency call is coming in. You cleared your head, preparing for anything, and clicked the spacebar, answering it, “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Bro, that was insane,” the male voice said over the phone. “You’re gonna be famous on YouTube.”

“Excuse me, sir? What seems to be the problem?” you asked, letting out a sigh.

“My friend is having trouble breathing, and his throat feels like it’s on fire.”

“What’s the address?”

“576 Rose Lane in Westwood.”

You typed the address into your computer, signaling the nearest available unit to the caller's location. “First responders are on their way. Can you tell me what he was doing before this happened?”

“We were doing the cinnamon challenge.” You rolled your eyes. “I thought it was harmless. Then, he was gagging, and then he coughed, and a puff of cinnamon came out of his nose. It was awesome; he looked like a dragon.” It's been a while since you got a call about an internet challenge gone wrong, but it's been forever since you got a cinnamon challenge one. You didn't even know that challenge was still around. “Oh fuck!”

“Is everything okay? What happened?”

“He collapsed. He’s not moving. Should I shake him awake?”

“He probably passed out, but paramedics are only a few minutes away. Is he still breathing?”

“I don’t think so,” he panicked.

“Remember to stay calm, I’ll help you through this the best I can, okay? Okay, now I am going to have to ask you to administer CPR. Do you know what to do?”

“Sort of. I learned it in health class a few years ago.”

“Perfect. It's 30 chest compressions followed by two breaths going to the rhythm of the song Staying Alive. You can do this.”

“Ok---okay. Yeah. Right, right,” he mumbled. Hearing him set the phone down on the ground, he started counting and doing chest compressions.

The responding unit was about a block away, and once they arrived, you could hear the sirens coming through the phone call.

“Odinson, take over compressions,” a lady’s voice commanded. “Kid, come with me.”

“Is he going to be...” the line went dead as he hung up his phone.

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your eyes. This wasn’t anything new; when help arrives, people hang up, and you don’t get to know how it ends, but maybe it was for the best. You sit back up, seeing your reflection in one of the many screens in front of you. At least, you knew most of the firefighters from Station 107 at the scene, including your brother Thor, if you ever wanted to know how it ended.

It's tough, taking call after call, emergency after emergency with little to no recovery time in between. It’s a stressful job that is emotionally and physically taxing. It requires extreme focus, patience, and puts you under a certain kind of pressure. The pressure of wanting to help and do everything you possibly can when this person you never met puts their life in your hands. You never know what the outcome will be, but you try to help them get through what might be the scariest moment in their life. It’s those calls, the ones you were able to save, that keep you coming back to work.

You stepped away from your command center and headed towards the kitchenette, spotting Luis rummaging through the fridge. It wasn’t unusual, but it did always bring a smile to your face. It was hard to believe he was one of the dispatchers who showed you the ropes after relocating to Los Angeles three months ago.

“Hey, Luis.” He turned around with a doughnut in his mouth, quickly removing it and shooting you a carefree smile.

“Hey, Chica, get any weird calls yet? You know I love hearing about those weird ones, right.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, but a guy called earlier saying his whole body hurt everywhere he poked. I told him to drive to the emergency room and get his finger looked at because it’s probably broken. Oh, and there was another cinnamon challenge victim.”

“Another one, I thought that craze was over.” He shook his head. “But I did hear about this crazy call that came in last night, right. It wasn’t so much crazy, but one of those nuisance calls, you know what I’m saying, the kind where you’re like, ‘why are you calling, this isn’t an emergency type of situation?’ Anyways, Cameron Klein took the call; you know the dude with the great hair, the kind you just want to run your hands through. It has the perfect fluff to curl ratio. I mean, I touched it once, and it was like a cloud. I asked him what products he used in his hair, and he was like…”

“Luis, how does this relate to the call?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, sorry, sorry, so there was this lady caller, right. She was telling Great Hair how she couldn't leave her car because there was a hostile raccoon outside her door. So then, Great Hair was like why don’t you go out a different door. And this caller says ‘yo I tried, but it’s like this trash panda can read my mind, right. He follows me when I move to the other side, and he’s like crazy, stupid fast like a rocket.’ And here comes the best part, Great Hair was like, ‘Hey girl, you better run fast then,’ and hung up,” he beamed with a slight chuckle.

“Oh my god, people really need to learn what an emergency is,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“You know that’s right, but duty calls.” He tilted his head towards the door, carrying two doughnuts and a huge mug full of coffee.

“Later, Luis.”

Years ago, you never would have imagined you would be working as a dispatcher in Los Angeles. You preferred helping people hands-on, which is why you became an ER nurse. It was the feeling of never knowing what was going to come charging through those doors next that excited you. But being a dispatcher gave you a whole different kind of thrill because you could only use your voice to help.

The rest of your shift flew by until you were on hour eight of your ten-hour shift. A pileup involving a semi jackknifing on the highway forced a huge collision of cars. All the units in the area along with a few on the outskirts came in to assist. It was the same call coming in multiple times, and all you could say was help was already on the way.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Send help,” the woman cried, telling you her address.

“Ma’am, I am going to need you to tell me what is going on?”

“A power line…a power line fell into our pool, and my daughter is trapped on her unicorn floaty in the water. I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay calm, ma’am. My name is YN, and I’m dispatching a unit to your home now.” You switched lines to the highway accident, getting on a line with Captain Danvers from Station 107, who was sending three individuals to the scene right away. You switched back to the caller. “Okay, I will need you to stay calm. What is your daughter’s name?”

“Morgan, she’s five years old.”

“Please, whatever you do, make sure Morgan stays on the floaty because it is protecting her from the water. There is a good chance the power line is sending more than 5000 volts through the water.”

“Okay, okay, I can do that, “ the mother breathed. “Honey, please stay on the tube.”

“I'm going to try to get in contact with the power company to turn it off.” You looked up the power company in the area, and someone slid next to you. You glance over, seeing Bruce get to work on calling the power company. You nodded at him, staying on the line with the mom. “Ma’am, has help arrived yet?”

“No, but I can hear the sirens.” You peeked at Bruce, but he shook his head, still trying to get a hold of the power company. “They are coming through the back gate now.”

“Ma’am, can you hand the phone to one of the firemen?” You bit your lip, studying the layout of their home on one of your monitors. There were flowers all over their backyard, and you got an idea.

“Hello, this is Fireman Rogers.”

“Hi, Fireman Rogers. This is 9-1-1 dispatcher, YN, how is it looking there?”

“Well, on the drive-in, we saw that a truck hit the power line pole, which caused the pole to fall into the pool. The driver isn’t in any serious condition, but one of our EMT’s is looking him over,” he informed in a deep voice. “Then, we have a pool vibrating with energy, but I assume you already know that part.”

“Do you have a plan in place? We are still trying to get a hold of the power company.”

“There are a few more floaties by the pool. I could ride one over to Morgan and pull her to safety?”

“Really? Where did you get that from the macho man handbook?”

“I don’t think that book exists, YN,” he added, making you scoff.

“I may have an idea.” You narrowed your eyes, playing out the idea in your head.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I can view the whole home on one of my monitors, and there are a ton of flowers. So, I can only assume a garden hose must be nearby.”

“Yup, I see it.”

“Okay, perfect. Grab the hose and cut off the metal ends; it's rubber, so it won't conduct electricity. Then, have you and another fireman take the hose and walk along the opposite sides of the pool. Have Morgan grab ahold of it and carefully pull her back to the edge."

“That’s genius, YN. Thanks for your help,” he acknowledged, making you crack a side smile. Few people said thank you in this job, but when they did, you appreciated it. “Here’s your phone back, ma’am.”

Morgan’s mother's breath was shaky and staggered through the phone. She was scared and had every right to be. If you were in that situation, you would be, too. “Oh my god, it’s working. It’s working,” the mother shouted into your ear. “Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?”

“I am okay, Mommy,” Morgan replied before the phone line went dead.

You smiled at yourself in one of the now blank screens. It was these moments why you loved what you were doing; a happy ending. Some calls never get a happy ending, but when they do, those are the ones you try to remember when a stressful call comes in.

________

AN: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. There is a long way to go and I promise things will definitely get more interesting. This was just a quick intro to some of the many characters that will make an appearance/cameo. Comments always welcome! Thanks for reading and I hope you’ll stick with me!

200 notes · View notes