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currentlyfckingurmom · 9 months

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Human: Rewritten

Chapter One

Natasha Romanoff x Female OC

A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC

Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012

The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in her brain before her eyes even opened. She didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time she’d woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of her life. She no longer needed to wake up that early, yet it’s a habit so deeply entrained in her framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. She rolled out of bed and made her way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math she figures that she got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s typical. She started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”

The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of her and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”

“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”

“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” She slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat.

“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and Eight could already feel her patience wavering.

Two hours later, Eight rubbed her forehead in an effort alleviate the headache.

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”

“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”

“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”

“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” She said, cutting him off.

“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”

“Better than the one I lived before.”

“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When she didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left her apartment, leaving her with nothing but her rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.

Troyes, France; May, 2012:

It had been four months since Director Fury paid a visit to Eight’s apartment in Barcelona. They had kept in contact and he hadn't given up on her joining SHIELD. She’d lived in three different apartments since then. Eight was watching the seven o’clock news when she saw something that made her choke on her Cheerios. “An alien invasion? What the hell is—” Her muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of her burner phone. “Hello?”

“Eight, you watched the news recently?”

“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”

“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes, aliens. I’m forming a team of extraordinary people to help protect against these threats. They could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”

“I may be a bit unusual but I’m not ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”

“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join, you can go right back to France after the fight is over and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence she agreed.

“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. How do you know about my jet?”

He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”

New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later:

Eight flew her jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. She found herself extremely grateful for the stolen German jet capable of flying 2100mph. She saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. She maneuvered the jet and— Is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? She landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines, then hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell she was and—whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing her steps had literally faltered at the sight of the woman, she slowed to a walk and said “You guys need a hand?”

“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the gorgeous redhead.

“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”

“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.

“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that she took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of her magazines into Chitauri bodies, she switched to swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. Eight started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when she saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. She stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and Mr. Hammer Man when the big green thing grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to the group. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said, nodding toward Eight. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed Eight’s blood-soaked form from head to toe.

“See something you like, Red?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I’d be into it if you were.”

She shook her head at Eight with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up.

“Anybody want shawarma?”

Three Hours Later:

Eight had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed her where to land her jet and directed her to a room so she could shower and stay the night if she wanted to. Eight had put on black jeans, a white tank, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in her jet. She was toweling off her hair when someone knocked on the door. Eight opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”

“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”

“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”

“You should come anyway.”

“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”

“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.

She walked into the conference room, finding the Avengers already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names Eight had learned from Hill—were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed Eight from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. Eight squinted her eyes and wiggled her eyebrows in response, and she could see the redhead stifle a laugh.

“What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression.

“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”

“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”

“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.

“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that, Eight.”

After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let the group leave. Eight was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to her.

“Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards her in an effort to catch up.

“Yeah?”

“Is your name actually Eight?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn?”

“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both women were trying to figure out if the conversation was over.

Eight was about to leave when Natasha continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”

She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”

“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”

“You ignored my second question.”

“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that she turned around and started walking away, but a hand on her arm stopped her dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in Eight’s head, and Romanoff might’ve been saying something to her, but she was too caught up in the memories to register it. After a few seconds, the white of her vision cleared up and the voices in her head faded into the background. Her heart was still hammering in her chest and she was trying to keep her breathing steady. Eight regained her neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you okay?” Natasha had a concerned expression and if Eight wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, she would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” She turned around and walked back to her temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind her, hot tears raced down her cheeks and she lost the ability to breathe as she fought the old conditioning messing with her head. It was gonna be a long night.

3:21 am:

She finally managed to calm herself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so she decided to leave before anyone woke up. Eight didn’t have much to pack so she grabbed her duffel bag and left the room. She made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads, then ran into the one person she really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”

“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebel streak?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”

“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”

“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” Natasha studied her for what felt like way too long, probably debating if Eight would try to kill her or not. Spies can be so untrusting.

“What the hell, why not?”

And that is how she ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at her to ‘slow the fuck down!’

“Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”

“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”

“Germany.”

“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”

“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”

“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know. You’re dodging my questions.”

“You act like you’d answer my questions if I were to start asking about you.” It was quiet as the two women shared a look of mutual understanding.

Madrid, Spain:

Eight landed the jet at the local SHIELD base and killed the engines. They removed their headsets and Eight stood to help Romanoff get her bags. “Well, I’ll see you around I guess.” Eight had never been good at goodbyes. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.

“Will I? See you around, I mean.”

“Um, I don’t know, honestly.”

“Why won’t you join SHIELD? I mean what else are you doing?”

“Oh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” Eight was cut off when Natasha threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Fucking crazy woman.”

When their laughter died down, Natasha said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give Eight a hug but she must’ve seen her body go rigid because she stepped back. And then she was gone. Eight walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.

Series masterlist

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x oc #yelena belova #black widow #black widow x reader

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

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Desperate situations call for desperate measures. #Writer Wednesday 21/04/21

Pairing: Dave York x F!reader

Summary: You're desperate, with nothing to lose you accept helping one of your friends in what looks to be a very dubious job and the man in charge intimidates you and owns every single one of your thoughts since you met him

Warnings: I mean is Murder daddy Dave 🤷‍♀️. Blood, violence, guns, swearing, descriptions of anxiety and panic and sexual innuendo. Nothing too graphic but let me know if I should note anything else, thanks

A/N: I blame my national public TV channel for broadcasting The Equalizer 2 a few weeks ago, now I have THOTS and reading many amazing Fanfics on this site it's making it worse. Another Pedro's character I'm fascinated by (and would gladly be railed by). This is my second piece for #Writer Wednesday thank you for this again @autumnleaves1991-blog 🤗 I’m super excited to read what everybody has prepared for this week. No beta’d, sorry for any misspelling and terrible grammar.

Everything that could go wrong went wrong.

Suddenly you’re walking with a pair of stupid high heels in a cold muddy path, there’s nothing but a few street lamps but this white fog surrounds the night like a thick cape blocking their light so you can see nothing, even the moon is invisible and above you there’s an only a dark immensity without stars.

Fuck, fuck, fuck you repeat trembling, this stupid silky dress and the thin shawl you wear doesn’t protect you for this freezing night. Stupid fucking dress, stupid fucking heels you mutter, your teeth chatter and you try to focus on the road and finding anything that could get you out of here without getting yourself killed. Your shoes appear to have heard your complaints when they snap and break and you almost fall down.

“FUCK!” you scream this time and instantly regretting it, you don’t know who could be listening. Now you can walk faster but the probability to lose one or a few of your toes is getting higher every minute that you expend walking barefoot through this dreadful place.

As an apparition, a miracle, you see a dim white light at the end of the road. You run, you could even smile if your face muscles were not frozen. You feel your tears forming warm trickles on your cheeks when you arrive to the phone booth. You haven’t use one in years, even thought they were extinct but now it is as if you had found God.

You open your small red velvet purse, so pathetically small that your phone couldn’t fit in it so you gave it to Tom, and now what? It’s inside his pocket, probably soaked in his blood. Soaked in blood of your dead friend. You stupid friend that got you into this situation on the first place.

“Whatever happens, if everything goes to shit, call this number” he had told you giving you a white card, a number and a name on it: Dave.

Your hands shake so much that you almost drop the card, but you place it on the small tray full of vulgar vocabulary and very graphic drawings inside the booth. You thank karma or whatever it’s up there that all your cards got cancelled last month and recently you relay on cash. A few quarters and cents, a few bills that you had stolen on your way to the club where you were supposed to do the jobwere all you had on your name now. And the rest, what you had saved, your clothes and the few luxuries you own; a book, an old picture and a plant, are gone, forever, they’re at Tom’s house and you know now that he’s dead and has botched the job you could never return to his home if you want to keep being alive. You stretch your fingers and take a deep breath before dropping the coins and dialing the number.

Please pick up, please pick up

You see the counter on the small screen eating your coins away. And you don’t have anything else

Please, please

“York��

his voice is deep, a slight tone of annoyance in it, logically because you’re calling at 2 AM

“Dave?”

“Yes, who’s this?” you shudder hearing him, you convince yourself it’s because you’re cold but you know it’s not. You’re thinking of the man that owns this velvety voice: brown dark eyes piercing you as if you were made of paper and he could read every little corner and secret that you keep

“I’m Tom’s friend, he’s dead, and now I’m on the middle of nowhere and I need help, please” you plea, your last words sound more like a little girl whimpers

“I’m on my way” and he hangs up

You’re left there looking even more scared and confused. You recoil to the small protection of the booth waiting for that man. That man that lurks in your dreams, that scares you and intrigues you and that has occupied every thought since you met him.

A week ago

“So, explain to me again, what are we doing?”

“You need the money or not?” Tom stops and confronts you in the middle of the road

“I need it, of course, but I want to know what I’m getting myself into before ending up dead or in jail” you say not moving until he is a little clearer

“We’re meeting with one of my boss’ men and he will give us something to hand to someone else in a place and a time they had accorded. And that’s it. You and I get paid and everybody’s happy” he says with a desperate smile “C’mon” he approaches you and squeeze gently your arms, he even bends a little to meet your gaze “you know I have many friends and I have proposed this to you, only you, haven’t I? Cos I trust you” he adds

“Because I’m fucking broke, Tom. The rest of your friends wouldn’t be as desperate as me” You blurt

“Okay, let’s meet him and if it doesn’t convince you, I’ll do it alone. C’mon, let’s not be late, he would not like that”

You nod reluctantly. You hope this dude would pay for lunch, you’re starving, you had some instant noodles last night and today your breakfast was the crumbs of cereals that Tom had left because he was too lazy to throw away the box.

The restaurant is clearly not made for people like you and Tom, the employees look at you up and down but when they’re about to kick you out, a big man approaches them and he guides you to a part of the local that is quite with a warm and intimate light. There’re a few tables but they’re all empty, the last one is occupied by a well-dressed man that looks at the both of you intently.

Your first thought is that he doesn’t look as you had expected. You were sure that Tom was involved with drug dealers and whatever the job entitled was about drugs, weapons or both. He looks like a middle-age business man, or a public agent. He wears a tailored dark gray suit, an elegant wool coat and he’s clean shaven, elegant shoes, expensive, you think. God, make him be nice enough so he pays for lunch

When you face him, although you stay behind Tom, your theories about the man crumble. His eyes, those dark brown orbs, are fixed at Tom and his defined jaw clenches, in a second his eyes are on you and you can’t stand his gaze much longer.

“Hi, Dave, I didn’t know I would be seeing you, I thought I’d be meeting Resnik as usual” Tom voice is high and shaky, so it confirms your thoughts; the man is dangerous even if he doesn’t look like it

“This is important, and you came accompanied” he tilts his head to you

“I thought this was a job for two” Tom takes a sit in front of him and Dave leans on his seat stretching his shoulders, he’s broad, strong, how did you think this man was no threat at all?

“You thought” he smirks and you freeze on your feet, is it too late to run away? “And what’s your name?”

You tell him, your voice sounds pathetic, a little too squeaky. He smiles and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and suddenly every coherent thought that you could think is out of the window.

“Please take a sit” Dave appears to be a little bit more relax now, he crosses his hands over the table and smiles to the two of you “So why do you think you could be of service?”

“Well, it’s a club, a guy alone is usually a creep but if we go together we’re a couple, and they wouldn’t look at me if I’m with her” he chuckles and points at you

You open your mouth about to insult Tom and seeing that his intentions could be way more different that you thought. You’re not doing that kind of job

“Yeah” Dave agrees and looks at you up and down, he doesn’t avert his eyes when you look at him with you eyebrow raised. He’s not ashamed, he’s checking you out and he wants you to know it “It’s actually not a bad plan”

“I’m sorry, but whatis the plan?” you interrupt

“It’s simple, you and your boyfriend...”

“He’s not my boyfriend” you clarify

“Right” he seems to think about that for a few seconds, before he resumes the conversation “You two go to this club, there, you’ll meet the contact and you’ll give them this” he raises his hand and the big man that had previously taken you to the table gives him a black briefcase “There’re two things that are extremely important” He pushes the case towards you “one, you cannot open it and see what’s inside, I’ll know if you do. Two, whatever happens you must acquire the envelope that the contact would give to you in exchange for this”

“Consider it done, Dave” Tom reaches for the man and gently taps on his arm. You watches as the man tenses when he’s touched and if looks could kill...Tom would be dead on the ground in this very second

“I’m sorry, can I ask you a question?” you raise your hand and the tense moment passes when Dave looks at you and he’s smiling, actually a very warm smile

“Of course”

“You said whatever happens, what could happen? Who are we meeting?” you ask, Tom opens widely his eyes and kicks you under the table

“Don’t worry Tom, they are actually pretty good questions” when he switches his eyes to Tom, he’s back to that opaque stare that makes you tremble “I’m not going to lie to you, sweetheart” he sighs, the endearing term has made your belly turn and it’s not hunger, at least not the food type “this people are dangerous, and they could try to trick you into changing the terms of the agreement, or ask questions about me or any other thing, and you must stay put and seal the deal fast and easy. Don’t do anything stupid”

“Right... what’s inside the case?” you ask again, you try really hard not to avert your eyes, he has his eyes fixed on you, his gaze goes from your eyes to your lips and you squirm on your seat.

“I cannot tell you that” he shakes his head “but it’s something valuable, you have to be very careful with it”

“If we are caught by the police with that” you point to the briefcase “are we gonna be in trouble?”

He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest; you cannot prevent your eyes from admiring how the fabric of his clothes tenses around his muscles.

“You don’t have to worry about the police” he assures

“I feel you’re telling us not to worry about many things and I think it’s on the contrary we have too many things to worry about...with all due respect” you add, Tom kicks you harder this time and giggles nervously

“It’s your first time, it’s natural! I’ve done a few times, you don’t have to worry, you’ll be with me! right, Dave?” Tom slaps him on his shoulder again playfully and the man flinches and has a menacing look if you do it one more time, asshole, we’re going to die right here right now you think

“Right” he answers “Tom, why don’t you go with Kovac to the car you’ll use for the job, there you’ll have the phones and everything you’ll need to complete the mission” he says eventually. The big man, Kovac, approaches the table and stands besides Tom until he gets up to follow him.

You stand up too, thinking that the lunch is over.

“Stay, please” Dave grabs your wrist softly and you gasp when you feel his warm touch

“I-I” you stutter

“Don’t you want to eat anything? I sense you have more questions” he doesn’t let go of your hand, he brushes his fingers softly where you skin is thinner and you feel your pulse rushing, surely he does too

“Yes...I mean I could eat something” you sit, the rumbling on your belly confirms your hunger

“Order anything you want” he stands up and raises a hand towards a waitress. She rushes to the table with the menus while Dave takes off his coat and jacket, he raises his sleeves carefully and you are not aware that you’ve been staring at him the whole time with eyes wide open and lips partially parted, you’re completely dumb by his presence. He’s tall, strong and broad and you can’t smell his cologne and his aftershave from there and all you can think is coming closer to him and tasting his neck.

You look down the menu suddenly when you find that Dave has caught you admiring him and is smiling slyly at you.

“Anything you like?” he asks

“Yeah...I’d like...” you read as fast as you can trying to find something, the prices are ridiculous “the salad” you answer

“You can order anything, sweetheart” the term makes you skin tingle again, he’s voice is actually sweet and his smile docile this time when he sits again facing you

The waitress comes back and asks for your order but it’s smiling widely to Dave.

“So what you would like to order, sir?”

“We’re both getting the prime steak” he answers and you blush, of course you’d like to eat that but it’s so freaking expensive you didn’t even think about that

“Fries or roasted vegetables?” she taps on the screen

“Both” yes, you cheer inside your head, you’re going to eat properly for the first time in months

You actually don’t care about the job or Dave or anything when the plate arrives, and certainly you have forgotten about your friend, it’s been long enough but the scent of the meat makes your mouth water. You have forgotten your manners too; you attack the steak as if you were a caveman. The pleasure of the first bite makes you moan and wiggle or your seat.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Dave comments and you’re suddenly aware of where you are and with whom, he has an amused look

“Thank you” you say with your mouth full

“It’s nothing”

“I looked that hungry, huh? that’s why you ordered this?”

“Yes, you seemed to need a bit of protein. Protein makes you brain function properly and I need you sharp and quick if you’re going to work for me” he says picking from his plate

“You think I will work for you, I mean for longer than just this one job?” you scoff, you’re desperate, but you want to keep on the good track, find a proper job, a small apartment and stay out of trouble

“You don’t want to? I think you need the job” he licks his lips and you are again looking longer than you should

“Yes, but I need a proper job, a salary each month a conventional one. No offence”

“None taken. So you’re not like your friend”

“No, I guess I’m not. I’m just in a rough patch. Desperate situations calls for desperate measures” You shrug

“Hmm” he hums “I’m glad I can help you out of it then” he adds

“Yes, thank you. Though I’m still thinking that it could get me more trouble than I already have” you counter

“No if you’re smart and I think you’re a pretty smart girl”

“You’ve just met me”

“I’m good at reading people, part of the job” he shrugs

“So I’m a hungry desperate smart girl. Seems accurate”

“Pretty” he completes

“What?” you ask thinking you had heard him wrong

“I said you’re a hungry―I hope not anymore― desperate, pretty comma smart girl. Pretty as an adjective” he clarifies

You blush and look at him opening and closing your mouth searching for words

In that moment, Kovac and Tom arrive. The large man nods to Dave, and Tom looks at you and your half empty plate with a confused look.

“I have to go, but please, sit and finish your dish, you can order whatever you want too, Tom. Everything is on me. You don’t have to worry” Dave stands up and puts his jacket and coat back. You think you see a little bit of disappointment on his face. He reaches his hand to you, you drop the fork thinking that he wants to shake your hand but he brushes his thumb over your lower lip where a drop of the meat’s blood and sauce stains your chin.

“It’s been a pleasure” he says and then licks his thumb. He goes before you can answer and Tom is talking to you but you don’t listen.

All you could think was him, repeating that moment again and again in your mind.

“Are you listening?”

“Huh?”

“I told you about the car they gave us. It’s pretty cool”

You smile and focus on your plate, the juicy meat is delicious but all that passes through your brain is his lips. You bite and moan loudly.

Two hours before the phone booth call

The club is actually a house, a clandestine local in a remote place full of people playing poker and other types of game betting more money than you’ve ever seen. You and Tom arrive there holding hands, his left hand holding the briefcase. Tom had bought you your outfit, high heels that you don’t know how to walk with, a very revealing dress and the idiot forgot you hadn’t a proper coat to wear with this and here you are in the middle of winter with a shawl. Luckily the place is warm enough and you just suffered during the time you run to the entry from the parking.

The establishment smells like alcohol and cigars, its red velvet walls reminds you of the interior of a coffin and that image makes you shiver. You try not to look at anybody and focus on following Tom to the black armored door at the back. When you arrive he knocks twice before a small slot opens and a man asks for a password.

“Just like spy movies, huh?” Tom smiles and you would laugh but you’re terrified. Once that door closes behind you, there’s no way out

A large man dressed in black escort you through a red lighted aisle towards another armored door. This time he’s the one knocking twice, the slots opens and when a pair of eyes look through it you hear the locks being unlocked before they open it.

There’re ten people inside, chatting over a black table with some glasses on it. The conversation stops when you enter. Without a sign some of them are escorted out and only three men stay.

“Sit please, your girl can serve herself a drink” one man says, sitting at the center of the table. He’s dressed also in black, he’s blond hair sleek and shiny with hair gel “I guess you have something for me”

“Yes” Tom approaches the table and places the briefcase at the center. You do as you’ve been told and approach the bar full of different drinks. You’re too nervous to drink but you grab one of the empty glasses and pour some liquor in it. Your back is pressed against the sticky wood and you try to act casual.

The second man on the left takes it and opens it and shows it to the two other. There’s only one light in the room above the table and from here you can’t see much but it’s clear that the briefcase is full of money.

“Excellent. Did you know how much there is inside it?” the blond man ask Tom

“No” Tom seems relaxed, his arm leans on his chair and has his legs crossed

“There’s half a million here” he answers

“Wow!” Tom laughs

“For such a tiny thing” the man grabs something from his pocket and places a small white envelope on the table “Do you know what this is?”

“No”

And we don’t want to know you answer in your head Gosh Tom, let’s go

“Just an address. Somebody really valuable for your boss, look how much he’s paying. This poor fellow” he taps over the envelope “it’s nobody to me, that’s why I’m willing to trade this simple information knowing it will get him killed, but I have another deal for you, one that I’m really interested in”

Say no, no, we have to go now you clear your throat to get his attention but Tom ignores you

“You just have to let us track you to the place where you’ll meet your boss. And you can take the case back with you and I promise one similar to this one will find you once we kill your boss” he offers. Tom bites the inside of his cheek and hums

“Just track me?”

No, no, no you scream inside. You place the glass on the bar loudly but Tom is fixed with hungry eyes on the case.

“Let us install a simple tracking device to your car. And take this” he pushes the open briefcase “it’s yours”

Tom smiles and grabs it “Thank you”

“My colleague will accompany you to your car” the blonde man smiles back and the other man that reminded silent during the meeting gets up to follow Tom back to the car.

You walk to the table before they leave.

“I’m sorry, but he’ll need the envelope for the meeting. He cannot present himself empty handed, he will be dead before you could find his boss and they will make sure it’s the right one” you say shyly

“You’re a smart girl” the blond says “Here you are” he tends the paper and you force a smile.

You rush towards Tom and grab his hand. The man follows you a few meters away in silence. So you grab Tom by the waist and faking a smile whispers to his ear “What the fuck are you doing? Dave is going to kill us. You betrayed him”

“It’s a million dollars and they can take care of Dave for all I know he can die, he was paying a misery and I’m the one getting my ass in danger, don’t I?” he says back

“It’s better than being dead. And he’s going to kill us both and I did nothing, you betrayed me too”

“Calm down! I’m going to give you a part of this. Isn’t this what you wanted?” He has to raise his voice over the music once you arrive to public part of the club

“I didn’t want to die, I just want money to start again, not being involved in killing people and shit” you accused back

“Yeah right and it has nothing to do with you making eyes to Dave during lunch. Gosh, you’re pathetic. Shut up, take the money, and we will see each other never again” he pushes you from him clearly not caring to keep the being a couple front anymore.

When you arrive to the parking, Tom leaves the briefcase on the back seat. You stand a few meters away not knowing what to do. Tom is the only way out from here but you don’t want to participate in his treason.

“Open the driver’s door” the man says standing behind Tom

“Right away, brother”

Everything happens in an instant. You hear the gasp, the air leaving Tom’s body and his corpse hitting the ground more than the shot. Once the man raises the gun to you, you’re already running away.

You hear the bullets breaking the air and you run faster, tears running from your eyes but your bite your lips to prevent you from crying out loud knowing that he can hear you. Once your chest hurts and burns you stop, hidden in the tall grass you listen intently trying to know if he’s following you. And you wait. And you wait more.

You crouch down and you suddenly remember that you’re holding so hard to your purse and the little piece of paper that your hand hurts. You hold the envelope to your heart and sit on the cold mud because your legs cannot hold you any longer.

Present. Phone Booth

You think about the trip from town to this place and try to calculate how long it would take Dave to arrive. And it’s long and probably you’ll be dead before he comes even close. The men from the club must be looking for you. You’re a loose end, you know their faces and their place, everything. And you know Dave too. Shit.What are you going to tell him? Yes, Tom betrayed you but I didn’t. I actually didn’t want to do it, but did I prevent it? I couldn’t but what would he think? You’re a loose end for him too.

You know he runs shady business. And for all he knows you wanted to take the money as well and just was quicker on your feet so you ran away. He doesn’t know you; he knew Tom and he betrayed him. How could he trust you?

You need something, something to make him think you are true, that you didn’t betray him. And though you felt something in your little lunch together, he could just be playing with you or interested in a carnal way. God knows you had had very inappropriate thoughts about him too, but that doesn’t make you any less of a traitor. Pretty he said, pretty enough to be kept alive even though he doesn’t know if he can trust you? You don’t think so.

Whatever happens you must acquire the envelope he had said. So you open it. There’s a simple address on it:

8518 Rayburn Rd, Bethesda, MD 20817

So you expend the rest of the time repeating again and again. Until the pair of lights of the car appear through the fog. You hope it’s Dave and not the men from the club If it’s so I’ve expended my last moments alive memorizing a stupid address. Great.

The black car drives slowly until it’s a few meters away. You grab the paper and make a ball out of it and swallow it fast chewing hard. It’s horrible, raspy and muddy, but you know that throwing it wouldn’t do it as well as tear it apart. The paper needs to disappear; you must be indispensable to him.

You actually cry in relief when Dave calls your name and you run towards the lights. You actually don’t think your action but when you see his shape you run faster and hug him tightly. He’s warm and smells delicious as you noticed at the restaurant. He tenses at first but then he holds you back, gently patting your head and hushing you with calming noises.

“You’re alright, you’re safe now” you know it’s not actually true but in that second you enjoy it “Get in the car, you’re freezing” he caresses your arms up and down trying to warm you

When you get in the car, you feel as you have step inside the gates of heaven. It’s warm and cozy, the leather is the softest thing you have ever felt and everything smells like Dave. He gets in the driver’s seat and grabs something from the back: his wool coat and throws it over you and tucks you in it. He stays in silence for a few minutes and you feel yourself doze off when he speaks in a soft and low tone.

“So what happened?” he sighs and leans on his seat turning to you

“Tom was a fucking idiot” you spat and he grins “They offered him the money inside the briefcase for your location and promised him more money” you speak the truth, you know there’s no point in lying to him “He accepted and well, I didn’t know what to say, I tried to change his mind but it was too late”

“What happened to the envelope?” he asks

“I took it”

“Can you give it to me?” he reaches a hand and you see he’s wearing leather gloves, actually he’s completely dressed in black

“No” you say and you bite your lip

“You lost it?” he asks and you cannot read what’s going through his mind but his eyes are fixed on you, darker than you remembered

“No” you say

“You have to give it to me” he says and his voice gets lower, it should be menacing, it is, but you feel your lower belly twist

“I ate it” you answer

“You did what?” he looks surprise but you cannot tell if he’s mad or amused

“I remember the address” you take out one single finger from under the coat and point to your temple “I memorized it and ate it so you wouldn’t kill me”

Dave stays there in silence for a few minutes, and then smirks and chuckles

“Very good” he praises “You did very good” he reaches for you cheek and brushes his leather gloved hands tenderly “Good girl” his voice is low and deep and it makes you squirm under your cover, his coat, that smells just like him.

“You’re not going to kill me?” you murmur

“No, I cannot do it now, don’t I?” he smiles at you

“But what about when I tell you the address and you kill whoever lives there, what then?” you say, now that you’re warm enough you are aware of the mess you made of his car, mud stains everywhere, his coat is ruined “I’m a witness and now I know you’re about to kill somebody” you add

“You remember what I told you at the restaurant?” he asks and starts the car finally moving from this dreadful place

Yes, you called me sweetheart a couple of times and then called me pretty you want to answer

“I told you about working for me” he reminds you

“You want me to work for you?”

“Yes. I want it since I first met you, sweetheart” you actually surprise yourself once you feel that you’re smiling when he calls you that again

“You trust me? But Tom...”

“Tom was Tom, you are you. And I trust you to be smarter than he was. You have proved it to me, he failed the test he had to pass” you admire his strong big hands on the wheel and his straight posture that allows you to marvel at his features and his long neck

“What test?” you say after scolding yourself for looking at him like an idiot

“This test”

“This was a test? What?” you cry

“Not in the sense that it was prepared, of course. Those men were very much interested in me and my team, and I knew they were trying to get some of my men to turn. I have to test Tom before he entered the team for more complicated tasks, I had to know if he was ready, and he wasn’t”

“And why did you let me get in this?”

“That was his first mistake. Never ever” he points with his finger “tell another person about the job or try to get somebody on it without me asking first. I allowed it because I saw something in you. A hunger”

“Is that a joke?” you ask

“I guess” he smirks “but also true, you said it yourself ‘desperate situations call for desperate measures’ That was what got me on this kind of job on the first place. I liked you, I’d just hoped you were as smart as you looked and got out there alive. And you did”

“What if I don’t want it?” you mutter

“Hmm” he evaluates for a moment “Again, I hope you’re smarter than that and refuse the only chance you have. I mean, you have been evicted, all your accounts cancelled, you don’t have a family and the relatives that you still have you wouldn’t contact them even if you were dying, so, I’m the only thing you got, sweetheart”

“Did you investigate me?” you ask after a few quite minutes. He’s right, you know that

“Yes, I have to know everything if you’re going to be part of the team” he admits with a shrug

“I know nothing about you, or your team, how am I going to trust you?” you demur

“You will learn to trust me and the team once you’re trained” he explains

“Train? Who’s going to train me? and for what?”

“I’m going to train you. I’m going to train you until you’re what I want and what I need and in time; I think it will be a satisfying ending for both of us and this situation”

“What kind of job would I do?”

“Kill” he says simple and straightforward

You shiver at his words and hold tight to his coat. Do you really want to be an assassin? Do you have a choice?

He stops the car. You don’t have a house, you have nothing, only this, a dirty dress and a borrowed coat and the help of a man you’re sure could and would kill you without hesitation. And though, you have no choice there’s a side of you that’s dying to surrender to him, to let him make you what he wants. You desire to be his, you want to be what he wants, what he needs but not as his associate, not exactly like that.

“So what do you say? Do you want to be mine?” you squirm on your seat.

“Yes”

#Writer Wednesday #Dave York x F!reader #Pedro Pascal #Dave York #The Equalizer 2 #Dave York x f!reader #Dave York x you #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #The Equalizer 2 fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dave York fanfic

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scarluxia · 3 years

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Let's talk about some Adventures I had in Phoenix, AZ in 2015. It came up in my FB Memories and even though I determined to let everything from last decade go, this one still rankles. I got "in trouble" with these people for being open about my experiences on my Facebook because, even though I hadn't mentioned names, they didn't like me "putting their business out there".

CW for ableism, depression, rejection sensitive dysphoria, and I'll try to put all that in the tags.

My partner, Loki (yes real name), and I had been urban camping in Portland, OR for about a month. It had gotten cold and rainy to the point where we couldn't safely stay living outdoors, and Loki's father (who didn't approve of me) had demanded he come back to California and live with Loki's uncle. He made it quite clear I was not welcome, so I ended up going to Arizona because I had a friend who was willing to put me up. She and I had known each other since 2008 and I figured I would be safe with her. At the time, Loki was much more easily influenced by what his family wanted, and we ended up having kind of a nasty set of conversations over whether he was abandoning me.

While in Portland, my wallet had been stolen so I had no ID or SS card. I had reported it stolen of course, but had received no response until I was leaving Arizona.

My friend in Arizona had two young sons, a husband, and a boyfriend. Now, I have some sensory issues that make it so I have a hard time being around children. High pitched noises hurt me to my bones, like, even now I have to leave the room if my son gets overly excited and starts shrieking.

I was sleeping on the couch in the living room, which was where the kids would go when they woke up and where the TVs and entertainment consoles were.

Anyway, they wanted me to contribute to the household and whatnot but I was severely depressed and I think I've provided all the context I can remember? If the rest of this doesn't make sense, please know that there was a part 1 but it came up in my Memories on a different day and i didn't think I would be rehashing it.

So I couldn't do work, couldn't do anything anyone had asked me to do to satisfaction because various things that did not, in fact, depend on me. Maybe I wasn't being enough of a ~team player~, I don't know. But anyway, I did my best with what I had. Sometimes, because of THE EXTREME FUCKING SENSORY ISSUES THAT COME WITH AUTISM, I would get overwhelmed by the kids screaming. Two little boys, barely school age, and their parents sat them in front of a TV and gave them controllers. That's it. They had toys in their room, sure, but they weren't getting outside. I suggested taking them out a couple times, but firstly, I didn't know the area and wasn't about to go out alone, and secondly, I can't split in half and I'm not in good shape, so even if I had known the area, I wouldn't have taken TWO small children outside to run around where they could run out of the designated area. I'm kind of anal that way, I guess. But Woman A (mum) and Man B ("uncle") never got off their arses to help me take them outside, and Man A was at work.

Oh, yes, parental interaction with the kids. Woman A loved her sons very much. But at their age (3 and 5), they both should have been toilet trained. They should have gotten at least two hours outside every day. They threw fits when they weren't allowed to play video games because, instead of games being a special treat that was earned with good behavior, they were toys carelessly tossed at the kids to keep them out of everyone's hair. Conversely, and bizarrely, reading to them WAS a special treat. The father woke up, played games, basically brushed off his kids, and went to work. Same when he got home for lunch, and he *ordered* us to have them in bed by the time he got home for good. The mum did somewhat interact with them, but mostly just wanted them out of her hair. I wasn't so nice because I'm not good with kids in general and also loud screeching HURTS, IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP. (Same with snoring, or any noise made when I want to sleep.) This isn't me being a ~diva~, it is an actual manifestation of a mental disability.

Woman A was of the opinion that "everyone who lives in a house with kids automatically becomes a coparent", maybe because she wasn't willing to actually parent her kids herself.

Note from the future: I still disagree with the idea that "anyone who lives in a house with kids is automatically a co-parent". Parent your own kids. I don't expect my dad to parent my son when we go visit him and he made it quite clear when I was pregnant that he would not take on a co-parenting role (because his wives 30-50 years ago had handled the babies and he doesn't really know how to calm them down beyond entertaining them)

She got a really bitchy look on her face whenever I (who have been around children, especially TROUBLED children, all my life) made any sort of suggestion. Well sorry, lady, but it's not like you're doing such a great job with them. Y'all act like you barely want anything to do with them. Like they're cute and little and fun to snuggle, but actually teaching them anything? Forget about it, just toss em a controller and hope they don't kill each other in the game or real life. Meanwhile, they have no outlet for their natural physical energy, no real outlet for their curiosity. They're going to grow up stupid and sedentary, with "no one paid attention to me during childhood except when it was convenient for THEM" to deal with. The older kid recently got on meds for a condition that, from what I observed, was likely much more nurture than nature. And what everyone ate, my God, those kids were the only non-overweight people in the house, and it's little wonder! I bought ACTUAL NUTRITIONAL food for everyone, and the adults look at me like I'm from some demon dimension. I made a light comment about how I'd never eaten anything like what they had growing up. You know, boxed potatoes, veggies out of a can, white bread, sugary peanut butter. And Woman A was like, "well YOU don't have kids."

Um, no, but my father did.

I have a kid now, am working part time at min. wage because my boss sees my performance as so-so (plus she's been forced to give me a raise every time the County of Where I Live raises the minimum), in a single-income household, on as much Family With Kids welfare as My County will allow, and I still wouldn't feed my kid that crap LOL

Spoiler alert: they made me use all my food stamps on their household and then kicked me out later that month so... When I bought food I bought HEALTHY food, like, I've been on food stamps my entire life... Also, WIC specifically pays for WHEAT bread, fruits & veggies, and they do let you get peanut butter without sugar so idk what was going on there with them.

My father was a SINGLE PARENT raising a daughter in America after 20 years of living in Europe and raising kids with his previous wives. Well, up until the divorces, anyway. I was the only kid he ever got to keep. He told me things about how the others had been raised compared to how I was raised, and I saw the outcomes of different parenting styles in my peers as well. My father was a very poor man whose trade had been outsourced and who struggled to support us for years. And yet, we never went hungry, and he never fed me boxed potatoes. Never fed me sugary peanut butter, white bread, or veggies out of a can.

Ok I understand canned veggies are better than no veggies, and not everyone can get fresh, but you CAN get frozen in AZ. I always had fresh or frozen growing up.

It wasn't because we were living in the lap of luxury. It's because...

HE FUCKING VALUED OUR HEALTH OVER CONVENIENT, CRAPPY, NUTRIENT-FREE FOOD!!!! This is not a difficult concept. He ALSO read to me every night, despite having what I now realise was a very grueling day at work just to put said healthy food on the table. I didn't get to watch TV or play computer games (edu-tainment, the only kind I was allowed) until after all my homework was done. I can't remember if I was a particularly active child, but I'm sure I had the OPTION!!!! TO GO OUT.

Meanwhile, when I was at various stages of my life, I met kids whose parents shunted them from guardian to guardian because they didn't want to deal with them, kids whose parents were kind and supportive but rubbish at enforcing discipline, kids whose parents were abusive in every kind of way, and kids whose parents did their best.

You know, I wasn't raised perfectly. My upbringing lacked social grace and included some toxic ideas about womanhood that I've only been learning to overcome recently in my adulthood. But DON'T FUCKING ACT LIKE I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RAISING KIDS JUST BECAUSE I DON'T CURRENTLY HAVE ANY. I have my own life, the lives of my peers, and a wonderful online community of new parents raising children in kind and socially aware ways, to draw inspiration from. I can go to any one of them, and to my own parents, and ask "hey does X seem weird to you?" And they'll give me their honest opinion, which *is valuable*. I have even mapped out a general idea of how to get through some parts of my children's lives, and I'm not even planning to have kids for at least another few years. I mean, honestly, it used to be "I don't want kids ever", but dear gosh, if I can have any part of raising someone in a manner that defies procrastination culture, entitlement culture, and everything wrong with the way my husband and I were raised, maybe it wouldn't be a complete horror. If I can ensure that not all hope for the next generation is lost, hey.

Anyway, I've gone off topic...

I also had some issues with the men. Man B just didn't seem to like anything ever. I had no idea what Woman A saw in him. I remember one time he tried to tell me, a Christian, that I can't tell people what a "real Christian" is because it ~invalidates their identity~. Excuse me, no. It doesn't work that way. There are things that Christ taught, and anyone who blatantly goes against them IN THE NAME OF CHRISTIANITY, IS NOT A REAL CHRISTIAN. And yes, I realise this entire rant has been very judgey and technically I'm not supposed to do that either, but it's not like I'm saying they're going to Hell. Just that their kids are going to be sluggish and stupid, and I can't understand how these people have the gumption to try to lecture anyone else about life when they're not even TRYING to get their own lives together.

Yeah so they tried to lecture me about how I was "letting" Loki mistreat me and how I cared more about "socializing" with my estranged husband (I have separation anxiety) than helping around the house e_e They also implied I used depression as an excuse to be lazy.

Man B was supposedly "super employable." Well, okay, even though his "job hunt" seemed to consist more of sitting around playing video games, he was larger than my father (who is 6 ft tall with a protruding gut and weighs 240 lbs at last count) (My father and I are both 60 lbs above our ideal weights. But we're working on it!), and never seemed to get past the phone-screening process.

Now, Woman A told me that Man B was looking for work and that her family and some friends looked down on him for being a freeloader. Probably because she was anxious about me thinking the same. But here's the thing: I wouldn't have cared. Honestly. If you want to sit around playing games all day in your married girlfriend's apartment with her and her husband playing video games all day, go right ahead. If you want to bake three potatoes at a time and take them back to your room for a snack, hey, more power to you. But don't piss out the window and call it rain.

I don't care how employable you are, where you live, who you're living with, or what your lifestyle is like. It doesn't affect me in any way. But don't act like you're doing something you're not just to appease someone's judgmental family. That doesn't ever end well.

Now, see, I clearly have a problem with people who do that. I don't hide many aspects of myself, though I will refuse to answer a question if I feel it's none of someone's business or if they're just asking it to be a judgmental asshole. I refuse to compromise myself or my safe space to accommodate someone who can't make peace with who they are. Hell, you know me! You know my show!

Wait, this is Tumblr, so you might not know my show. It's a YouTube storyboard dedicated to processing and mocking some spiritual and psychological abuse I've undergone in my life. On Facebook, it was one of the things I was known for at the time because I was constantly posting clips and art, and trying to recruit voice actors.

I sell anyone out who I catch lying to me about anything! That's nothing new! And these people knew that about me. For SEVEN. FUCKING. YEARS.

So anyway. Woman A has a lot of great short term goals but no actual follow through because "I'm just not in the mood right now." No judgment there. I've totally been there. The only problem is when it gets ME in trouble.

"Let's walk the dog." "I'm not in the mood." Okay, then the dog doesn't get walked because I can't figure out my way around the place alone.

"Let's do the dishes." Woman A doesn't let me know when the washer stopped. Okay. Then the rest of the dishes don't get washed.

"Let's take the kids outside." "No I'm too tired." Okay, then they're going to be RUNNING AROUND THE APARTMENT SCREAMING WHICH MY EARS CANNOT FUCKING HANDLE so bye I'm just gonna borrow your room and isolate myself for a bit.

"Let's go to the gym!" "Maybe later." But later never comes.

Do you see where I'm going here? As for the men, they BOTH complain that they're "doing too much" around the house. Okay, probably fair for Man A, who works full time and deserves to come home to a clean house. But Man B. Wtf. You literally do nothing, except when you do, and when you do, we're meant to throw you a parade? That's not how adulthood works, or so I've heard.

Note: All three of these people are older than me. I was 24? at the time, fresh out of trade school, on my own for the first time in my life. (Maybe 2nd? I ran away when I was 17 but ended up with my grandparents so idk if that counts.) Woman A was 26 at the time and had been married since 2008, had experience with office work and parenthood, etc. Both men were older than her. I was a chronological adult with the life experience of a teenager, so I felt comfortable saying that.

So did I mention that I'm sleeping in the living room during this stay? And the adults don't go to bed until like 2 AM, which means, because of my disability, wherein I cannot sleep if there's any sort of non-ambient noise, *I* don't get to sleep until AFTER 2 AM. And the kids? They come in the living room screaming at 6 AM. Yep. Okay. Living on 4 hours of sleep, for the mathematically challenged. That and dealing with the emotional turmoil of being separated from my husband when I've got high separation anxiety in the first place. All my pain, everything, it's up to 11. and I'm supposed to contribute but there's not really anything that allows me to contribute.

So what do they do? They ambush me. Call a "family meeting" to tell me absolutely everything that's wrong with me, after WEEKS of telling me what a big help I am and how grateful they are to have me around. Tell me I'm letting my "social life" get in the way of me helping around the house. Hmm. Social life. You mean, VENTING IN MY SAFE SPACE (Facebook, no names named) AND TRYING TO MEND THINGS WITH MY HUSBAND??????????????? Okay. Well since you guys treat your woman like shit, you clearly don't understand or appreciate devotion to one's spouse. Seriously. Woman A told me she used to have extreme separation anxiety with Man A, and that he would brush off her emotions as irrelevant. Her solution was to make it a poly relationship and take a lover WHO TREATS HER THE EXACT SAME WAY. I'm serious. She got no emotional support from either of them. They basically just threw pills at her and trained her to lie down until her feelings went away.

And she had the gall to lecture me (24 at the time) about how Loki (19 at the time & from a pretty horrific family) treated me. LOL ok. Log. Splinter.

As she knew, I'm monogamous. I do have some opinions on polyamoury based on individuals I've gotten to know who are in those types of relationships, but those opinions are irrelevant to this series of rants. Except one, which is pertinent: if you're going to take another lover, they should provide something that your existing lover(s) don't. If you're suffering from low emotional support and you just find someone else who doesn't emotionally support you and who treats you like a child who can't be trusted??? What are you even DOING? Like, she told me NEITHER of her men trust her judgment. What the fuck is a relationship without trust? And don't even try "dick too bomb" as an excuse when you tell me you haven't gotten laid in months and your husband is using your condoms on Woman B.

They don't support you. They don't trust you. And yet YOU'RE telling ME that things with my husband won't get better unless I follow your lead and take another lover? HELL TO THE NO. My husband has his faults, but if I tell him Person X can be trusted, he believes me.

Except for his ex-girlfriend whom he tried to add to our relationship when he tried to be poly, months later. That went Badly.

Or maybe he just knows I'll deal with them myself, with my hot, hot temper, if they turn out not to be trustworthy. He also doesn't treat me LIKE A CHILD. And while I sometimes point at things and make small motions when I can't physically talk, or sometimes even use baby talk when I'm feeling cutesy, I DON'T POINT AT A PIECE OF PAPER AND GO "THE CARRRRRR!!!!" IN AN INCREASINGLY HIGHER PITCH BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY, "Honey, I think we missed the car payment this month. Can you double check while the agent has you on hold, please?"

Okay, being a dick about losing words due to stress was not my finest moment, but at the time, I was just so appalled by how they treated her and how she allowed them to treat me.

So basically these adults who are nowhere near having their lives together, and aren't even really trying, put me on blast for not having everything running perfectly when THEY expected it to.

Let's reiterate. I couldn't get a job because I had no ID or social security card. I was waiting for them to be returned to me. I couldn't walk the kids or the dog, go to the gym, or complete all the household chores because no one would guide me. I need that guidance because of various components of my disability, which I really hate admitting to because I'm super fucking prideful, but I figured hey, she's not neurotypical either. These people will understand.

Their response when I brought this up? "You're an adult. You should know better." Sure, okay. But you should know that a child ought to be potty trained before he turns 5, or even 3; that kids need to run around, are entitled to their parents' attention and consistent discipline, and need!!! healthy!!!! food!!!!

Oh, discipline! So, she would send Older Boy to his room over misbehaving. But rather than enforce time-out, she'd go, "oh, I think I'm being too haaaard on him," and just... Relinquish. He's not about to learn anything that way, ma'am.

They called me trying to reconnect with the person I love more than almost anyone on this earth "obsessing over your social life". Well again, you treat your woman like shit, so MAYBE my undying devotion to the person I love goes a LITTLE bit over your head.

They told me that the household should be my first priority. Except no, because I am an autonomous person and my FIRST PRIORITY is, was, and ever has been the love of my life, whomever that may be at the time. That is 70% of my personality. I'm pretty sure anyone who had ever met me can vouch for my extreme devotion, and this woman had known me for SEVEN. YEARS. I'm not going to throw away 70% of myself to do an impossible task that no one will help me with.

They told me a lot of things I wasn't doing right, and for those of you who also struggle with anxiety and depression, you know that being told for weeks that everything is okay and you're so great and so helpful, and then being told that you're rubbish at everything... You know that that is hurtful. Devastating, even. I wanted to kill myself. I said that. I said that and expressed my feelings about some other things, in my safe space, without naming any names.

And even though I was posting in my safe space, I was polite about it. I was as gentle and rational as possible. I wasn't calling anyone out. Not like I am now. I wasn't trying to lead a witch hunt. I was just overwhelmed and trying to express my feelings. Trying to get myself not to kill myself. I had to tell myself over and over again that it's not what Loki would want for me.

In the morning, they woke me up and kicked me out. Said it was rude for me to say I don't care about their household. I never, NEVER said that. I said "Loki is my first priority." Something along the lines of "that's just how I am and I shouldn't be vilified for it." That doesn't mean I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. IT JUST MEANS THAT MY PRIORITIES WILL *NEVER* BE WHAT SOMEONE ELSE WANTS THEM TO BE. I AM A PERSON. I HAVE THE RIGHT TO DECIDE WHAT TO PRIORITISE, AND I HAVE THE RIGHT TO LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!

I MEAN, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. MY NAME IS *SIGYN*. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU IGNORANT ASSHOLES EXPECT?! WHY THE HELL SHOULD YOU HAVE FELT THREATENED BY ME SAYING ANYTHING IF I DIDN'T NAME NAMES AND WAS ACTUALLY RATIONAL? IF YOU SAW THIS, *MAYBE* YOU WOULD HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE PISSY, BUT NOT THEN!

They kicked me out after having asked me to buy them all food. I had used up all my food stamps. Because I hadn't anticipated this at all. I hadn't known they would take such offence to my existence, to my ways. To the fact that I value the man I married more than I value... Whatever they wanted me to value, I guess.

Fun fact: I ended up in a women's shelter after this, and one woman told me to actually kill myself because she was tired of hearing me cry at night.

They said I hadn't made any effort to get my life on track. Because I can just snap my fingers and make my ID appear. Because I can just manifest the money for a replacement. They said all these things that left me almost unable to breathe, in retaliation for me posting that I was suicidal.

Later, Woman A told me that this had been a long time coming and that they were trying to make room for Woman B and Woman C, both of whom were willing to have sex with the men, which is something that I would not. I feel the first woman I met at the shelter was accurate when she said they basically kicked me out because I wouldn't sleep with them.

I also later found out that my ID and SS card had been returned to sender. The Portland PD called me and told me. So my father came to the conclusion that the people I had been staying with sabotaged me from the start. For a while, I didn't feel it, but last night I dreamed about it, and the dream made me angry. I didn't deserve to be treated that way. And I really had to get all this off my chest, so for those of you who didn't immediately whip out your tiny violins, thank you.

#ableism #depression #rejection sensitive dysphoria #sensory sensitivity #child neglect #child abuse #resource insecurity?#i forgot about the part where someone tried to mansplain Christian gatekeeping to me #emotional abuse #polyamory but make it toxic #suicidal ideation

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