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sempersirens · 8 months

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raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @sempersirenswrites and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

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fruity-mega-coconut69 · 1 year

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The Quiet Kid

[pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Reed!Fem!Reader

[Summary]: Your love for Tara has to be put aside due to a certain black cloaked, masked killer returning into your life.

[warnings]: Swearing, mentions of murder, stabbing.

A/N: Idk if i should post a part 2 of this so , we'll see.

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You were in the kitchen talking to Mindy after they came home from the party. She was talking about how Tara almost hooked up with an asshole. You sighed in both relief and disappointment as she mentioned Chad saving Tara. After she finished, Anika walked inside the kitchen and wnt over to Mindy, kissing her. You smiled at the couple and decided to make your way over to Tara’s room to check on her. You were nearly there when you heard Quinn say, “Did i cock-block you? “

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What did you just say? “ You heard Tara say. You stepped closer to the room, but Quinn still hasn’t noticed you. “ I cock-blocked you. “

Suddenly, you heard another voice, “No “Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as you recognized the voice to be Chad’s.

It seemed like Quinn would just not quit it. “ I cock-blocked you, didn't i?”

“Immediate no” Tara says with a little disgust in her voice.

“Please, stop saying the word ‘cock’ “ Chad whined and laughed as he looked at Quinn. “What did you need? “ Tara has had enough of her roommate.

“My phone “

“ Don’t ever enter the room like that again. “ Tara demanded of Quinn.

“I won’t “

“I’m gonna go. But get some rest, get sober and please don’t kill your sister, okay? She loves you very much.” There was a beat of silence when you saw the shadow of Chad heading out. “ Good night! “ Your eyes lowered to the floor in realization of the situation as Chad walked out of the room. As soon as he saw you, he averted his gaze and quickly walked past you.

Soon Quinn backed out of the room too. She looked at you when she realized you were standing just about outside of the room, leaning against the wall. She gave you a look of sympathy and walked past you. About everybody knew about your crush on the younger Carpenter. But you couldn’t really blame them for choosing Chad as the better partner for Tara. He was strong and fun, kind and charming. Also you just about moved in with them the same time as Quinn, it was no surprise that they didn’t really trust you.

You swallowed hard and finally pushed your body off of the wall and decided to walk past her room to get to your own. As you did so, you felt yourself stop in your tracks as you saw Tara smiling like an idiot while laying on her bed. For a moment a small smile appeared on your face too, but soon you remembered that the reason for that is probably Chad. Shaking your head, you walked over to your room and went inside., immediately feeling a wave of comfort wash over you as you sit down in the armchair in the corner of the room beside a little bookshelf. Picking out the book you are currently reading, you leaned back and pulled your headphones up to your ears from around your neck, relaxing.

After about 30 minutes or so, you hear shouting from the living room. You put your book down and walked out of the room. You glance at the Tv and gasp. That's When you notice Tara and Sam shouting at each other

“ It’s a big city! “ Tara exclaimed “ It’s halloween! Everybody is wearing masks! “

You see Sam shaking her head. “ Tara! Tara, this isn’t a coincidence! “ Tara huffs and looks at her sister with almost pleading eyes. “You knew him! “

“Barely “ She shook her head as she looked at you guys standing in the living room, watching them.

“ Chad, Mindy back me up. “ Chad is to speak first “well, it is a little bit.. “ He trails off. “ Close to home “Mindy finishes for him. “ See? “ Sam turns back to Tara, waiting for her response.

She scoffed and shook her head, looking behind her at Quinn. “ Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right? “ Quinn glances up at Tara from the ground “ Can you call him and find out what’s going on? “ Tara steps back and looks at Sam. “ Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!”

“ I’m calling him now, “ Says Quinn as she puts the phone up to her ear. You shut your eyes close in exhaustion, taking your hands and running them down your face while groaning into them. You all suddenly hear a phone ringing. You take your hands off your face immediately to look whose it is. Sam started walking towards her phone slowly, and your body tensed up-as did the others’ too- as you put your hands down at your sides, clenching them.

“Who is it? “ Sam didn’t answer her sister’s question, just declined the call and put her phone back down.

“Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang? “ Ethan asked, completely clueless.

Anika looks at him and sighs “ You gotta keep up, my dude. “ She shakes her head.

Suddenly Quinn spoke up. “Sam “ She gets up and walks over to Sam. “ My dad wants to talk to you. “ Sam takes the phone and puts it up to her ear.

You shake your head and start heading towards the door, but Mindy speaks up. “ Hey, where are you going?” Almost everyone's attention is turned to you as you stand at the door, holding the handle.

“I-I was just…going for a walk. “ You curse at yourself for not having a better excuse.

“Oh hell nah, Y/N. You’ll either get attacked or….you are ghostface. “ You scoff at her and look at the floor. “ …..I’m one of the last people to be ghostface. I can assure you, Mindy. “ With that, you unlock the door and swing it open, walking out of the apartment.

You are walking aimlessly around the city with your headphones on, humming softly as the chilly october breeze. Suddenly, your music stops and you frown, taking out your phone. When you do, you see a caller ID that says, unknown. You swallow hard and clench your jaw, tapping on the accept call option as you put the phone up to your ear.

A raspy voice that you know all too well started laughing into your ear. You gritted your teeth . “ Well, well ,well. If it’s not Y/n, the big miracle. “

“ What do you want? “

“Oh, nothing, just y’know…….to, uh, “ He chuckles and takes a deep breath. And a shiver ran down your spine at the sound “ Gut you “

You stop walking, completely frozen. “ W-what? “ You look around in a hurry. “I mean, you could be the first legacy character that I killed. Why would you want to leave out on that? It is utterly unfair, that you’re alive and still noone gives a fuck, Y/n “

You had enough and hung up, starting to run. Suddenly strong arms grasp at your body. “ Oh, are you trying to get away from me? Sweet little thing, it’s over. “ He laughed and swung his knife back. Within seconds, the knife was plugged into your side as you let out a gut wrenching scream.

You are successful at prying his strong arms off from around your body, once again starting to run. You hear the sounds of the heavy pair of boots behind you, you ran for what felt like hours until you got somewhere more public where there were a lot of people. When you stop, you look behind you, your body relaxing when you can’t see him anymore. You put your hand on your wound and press on it, wincing in pain. Breathing heavily, you notice a bench and sit down on it.

A couple of hours later the sun has set when your phone rings. Your body tenses as your shaking, bloody hands pick up your phone. The bleeding stopped a few hours ago, as you decided not to go anywhere near a doctor. “ H-hello? “

“Y/n “ You gasp as you recognize the voice, sitting up. “ Oh my god, Kirby? “

She chuckles on the other end of the line, “ Yeah, it’s good to hear your voice, lil’ sis. “

You smile weakly. “ Yours too. So what’s up? “

“Uh, I'm at the police station with your friends. I would like you to come here. “ Your eyebrows furrow in both concern and confusion. “ O-Okay. Yeah, i’m like, 10 minutes away. “

“ wonderful. See you then “ With that, she hung up.

After about 10 minutes you arrived at the police station. You walked through the ocean of reporters and into the building. In the hallway, you saw Sam, Tara, Kirby and Detective Bailey. You walk up to them. “ Hey, what’s…..going on? “

Tara and Sam looked at you surprised. “ Y/n “ You nod in their direction then look at Kirby who smiles at you and goes to hug you, but immediately notices the dried blood on your shirt and hands. “OH my god, Y/N! What the fuck happened to you? “

Tara was quickly by your side to check your wound while you pursed your lips at Kirby. You let out a breath of air. “ I…was, uh, attacked. Last night. “ Tara looked into your eyes but was fast to look away to check for other wounds. “ A-and you didn’t go to the hospital? “ You shrug and turn back to Kirby.

“ What is it you want me here for? “

“ Well, first of all to say hi. And second of all, I thought i would inform you about some things. “ She looked down at the ghostface mask in her hands.

After you were done speaking to Kirby, you, Tara and Sam walked out of the building, being welcomed by a dozen reporters. Sam wraps an arm around Tara in order to keep her close. You reach your hand out for Tara to take. As soon as she does, you give it a slight squeeze. When you are out of the crowd, you suddenly hear and all too familiar voice behind you.

“ Gale Weathers, channel 4 “

You guys turned around and looked back at Gale. “ Do you girls think you are the reason the ghostface killer has come to the Big Apple? “ Sam scoffed at her and started shaking her head. You took a step back when she swung her arm back to throw a punch at Gale, Unsuccessfully.

Gale chuckles. “ Nice try, sweetie. But I've done this dance before- “ She was cut off by Tara, as she punched her in the face. Your eyes widened and you looked at Tara, smirking.

Hot

“ Stay away from us. “ Although you did enjoy seeing Tara punch someone, Gale was your friend. So you looked at her to see if she was okay, to which she gave you a nod. You went to catch up with Tara and Sam but Gale came after you guys and looked at the Carpenter sisters in disbelief.

“ Are you still mad at me? “ You raised your eyebrows in curiosity.

Sam turned back around, mad. “ You said you wouldn’t write a book about what happened ! “ She exclaimed. “ And then you wrote a book about what happened.

Gale rolled her eyes, scoffing .” Oh, come on. Somebody was gonna write about it! “ She pauses. “ It’s what I do! “

“ I heard you couldn’t sell the movie rights “ Tara raised her eyebrows at her. You looked at her, simply admiring.

Gale stumbled over her own words. “ I-It’s all about true-crime limited series these days. “

“ After everything we went through together “ Sam paused. “ What would Dewey think. “ Your jaw clenched at the mention of the man that you had adored dearly even when he wasn’t with you. You pushed Sam in the shoulder lightly and glared at her. She looked at you, confused but then glanced back at the woman in-front of her.

Gale looks at her and after a minute of silence, she speaks up. “ That’s a low blow “

“So was your book. “ Sam spat out bitterly. “ You called me unstable and a born killer ! “ Gale raised her shoulders. “ That’s..taken out of context. “

“That’s literally a quote. “

“ You don’t think what you wrote has something to do with what's happening to us.? “ Tara asked her angrily. Your eyes traveled back and forth between the three women, watching with curiosity as the fight elaborated. “ Come on “

You guys started walking towards the taxi. But Gale once again spoke up behind you. “ Hey, I talked to Sidney ! “You stopped in your tracks and turned around.

“She’s not coming here is she? “

Gale shakes her head. “ No …..She sends her love, but she’s taking Mark and the kids someplace safe. She deserves to have her happy ending.”

“On that much, we agree “ Sam says then opens the door to the taxi and gets in, you after her. “ Hey, i wanna catch this fucker as much as you do. “ You heard Gale say.

Tara stops and looks at her. “ Maybe. Or maybe you’re just afraid that without ghostface in your life, you’re gonna fade away. “ She gets in and the taxi drives away.

You look between them “ Soo uh, how are you all doing? “ They both glare at you and then both continue to stare out the window. Until Sam spoke up.

“ Wait, so how do you know Kirby and Gale? “

“Well, it’s a really funny story, uhm “ They both look at you as you swallow and look at the floor. “ So, Kirby’s actually my sister and Iknow Gale because I met her at woodsboro not long before I was in the 2011 woodsboro killings. I was 8 “

They both stare at you, speechless. And for the rest of the ride you sat in awkward silence.

Late on, you are all sitting on benches around campus as Mindy is again, explaining the rules. “ As terrifying as this all is, I'm actually glad I got a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time. “ She adjusts her sweater.

You all look at her waiting for her to continue. “ It’s fine. Okay. “ She sighs. "The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel. “

Anika puts her hand up “ Uh, what’s a requel? “

Mindy looks at her girlfriend” You’re beautiful sweetie. Let’s hold the questions for the ned” Anika smiles at her. Sam spoke up. “ Stab 1 took place in woodsboro. Stab 2 took place in college. “

Tara looks at her sister then at Mindy. “ So we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies? “ Mindy nods at her. “ That is one possibility. “ You nod along as you try to listen. “ Heroes now in college: check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count: check, check and check. “

Ethan’s trembling voice spoke up. “ I don’t like this. “ He shakes his head. Mindy retreacts. “ But it can’t just be about Stab 2. “

Tar’s eyebrows furrow at her friend's statement. “ Why not? “

“It would make sense, if this were just a sequel. But we are not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore” She throws her arms around. There is a short pause before she throws her arms up .” We are in a franchise !” “ She looked at each of your directions. “ And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise”

Everybody sighs as Sam says. “ I had a feeling “

“ Rule one: Everything is bigger than the last time “ She spreads her arms while looking at you guys. You put your clammy hands on your face in exhaustion, letting out a sigh into them. “ Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count. Longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings.You got to top what came before to keep people coming back. “

Chad looks up from his notebook. “ Beheadings? “ He points his pencil at Mindy, who nods at him. “ Beheadings. Rule two: whatever happened the last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations. If the killers last time were whiny snowflake, film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be tre here. “ Sam sighs as she processes the information.

“ And rule three: No one is safe. Legacy characters? Cannon fodder at this point” Tara looks at you, fidgeting with your rings as you listen to Mindy. “ Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia “ You clenched your jaw. “ It’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. “ Her voice softens at the end of her sentence as she looks at Sam.

“ Oh, and that’s not even the worst part! “

“Ah, this is the part where she tells us the worst part “ Chad says, still looking at his notes.

“ The worst part is, franchises are just continuing episodic installments designed to boost an IP. Which means, main characters are completely expendable now, too.” You all looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “ Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripely, SallyHardesty, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James bond—I mean, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on.That means it’s not just the friend group. Any of us could go at anytime, especially Sam and Tara” Mindy looks at you all sadly.

You sit up straighter and put your shaking hands on your knees. “ W-wait, any of us? “ Ethan asks. “ Yeah. “

“This- am i in the friend group? “

“yeah “

“ Am i like one of the targets? “

“Mm-hmm “

He looks at the ground then back up at Mindy in disbelief. “ Am i gonna die a virgin? “ You all looked at each other in confusion.

“ That was a weird overshare. But it brings us to our current suspects: Ethan “ Mindy steps closer to him, smiling. “ The shy dorky guy, who no on suspects because he’s so shy and dorky.”

“Okay. Wait, why am I on the suspect list? Because I'm randomly Chad’s roommate? “ He points at his roommate.

“ Roommate lotteries can be juked. You could have fixed it to get next to us. “ She leans closer to him, but quickly leans back. “ Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic.”

Quinn looks at her. “ ‘sex positive’ but…thank you? “

“ Mm-hmm. Um, how did you come to live with Sam and Tara? “

“ I answered their ad online “ She looks at Sam who nods at her.

“ Okay, say no more. You’ve already implicated yourself enough.” Mindy exclaims.

“It was an anonymous ad, Mindy. And you know we vetted her. Plus you know her dad is a cop. “

“And that makes it more likely that she’s the killer, because having a cop dad is a great cover. Do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?! “

Quinn looks at Sam “ Is she always like this? “ Sam just tilts her head.

“ And, of course, the quiet, sweet random girl from god knows where. “ She looks at you and you feel small under her judging gaze. “ I am guessing you also just answer the ad online, hm? “

“ We-well- i- “

“ Right. Okay. You could be one of our prime suspects! “

“What, why? “ Tara asked Mindy, standing up. But you pulled her back down.

“ Because, Tara. No one knows anything about her really. She just popped up out of nowhere. “ You nod your head along, kind of agreeing. “ And finally….Anika “ She smiles at her.

Anika blows her a kiss that Mindy returns. But her smile quickly fades. “ Never trust the love interest. “

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

A/N: i feel like there has been too much Tara content lately.

#jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #scream vi #screamvi #scream #scream franchise #scream fanfic

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eeldritchblast · 5 months

Text

Thoughts on Halsin

I want to preface this by saying I don't have anything particularly against Halsin as he is in game. But I do find him lacking in depth, when compared to everyone else.

Even without knowing that he was added as a full companion last minute, I would probably have guessed as much simply because there's not much to him beyond the role he plays in the Shadow-Curse quest of Act 2. This is lampshaded with dialogue about how he himself feels consumed by his determination to end the curse. But to me, that just feels like a cop-out. Imagine any other character looking at the camera and just saying "yeah I know I don't have much character beyond what happens to me in the plot, too bad?"

But I think the worst crime about his lack of development, is the fact that because he doesn't have a lot else going on, he feels a little overly sexualized to me; like he's just there for the player to thirst after because he's this big, bulky man. Now, to be clear, I don't care that he's horny, and I definitely don't care that he's poly. (My GF is a poly lesbian, and honestly I could see myself having more than one romantic relationship , too, if someone else was ever interested in me like that and cool with it.) What I'm trying to say is, because he's lacking in other areas, leaving those traits being of his few you can list, it makes them feel of less value, and makes him feel more like a sex prop. And if you're gonna have a character with rape victim as part of his background like Halsin has, then that's the last thing you want, I think.

So, what more could be done with Halsin?

I once made a joke that someone should draw Halsin in a "Big Auntie Energy" shirt. For those of you who aren't Native, let me try to translate: In most if not all Indigenous Nations, we often call women who are champions of our cultures and communities "Auntie", whether they are actually literally your aunt or not. An Auntie is someone you dearly love, and trust to guide you. Halsin already plays something of a mentor figure to the protagonist—indeed, dev notes even call him "avuncular"—so why not lean into it further by showing what he does for others, too? Pretending that there was more development time allotted, here's what I would've liked to see...

"This place crawls with life, but little of it flourishes. I see refugees, unhoused. The destitute, unwanted. Orphans, unloved. … I wish there was a better way. I wish everyone could see the sun, have a full belly, and know nature as a friend. There is a balance that is yet to be found." —Halsin

After ending the Shadow-Curse, Halsin says he needs to find a new purpose. I feel like his purpose could easily align with his horror of the inequalities of Baldur's Gate. Instead of just talking about how awful it is, why not allow the player to challenge him to try and change things, then? For example, I like to imagine Halsin telling stories to the orphans in Rivington, providing them comfort and someone to look up to. Or another example: Halsin helping out in or maybe starting some kind of charity meal program. It's small, but it's enough to say that he could actually grow a little as a person within the game's story. And it would add at least a little bit of engagement on the player's end as well, instead of feeling like the relationship with Halsin, platonically, is one-sided.

This all doesn't come from nowhere, by the way. If you exclusively romance Halsin, he says goodbye to the player in the end because he is leading a group of people into Thaniel's realm to start a new life. But personally, I feel like this is too great a leap back into an Archdruid role he specifically rejected, because he didn't like it. It also would've been nice to get this kind of dialogue without having to romance him; to know what lies ahead for Halsin as a friend, too.

Now, that's the good ending. But almost all the companions in BG3 have a "good" and "evil" ending. I feel like this really adds a lot of insight into the characters, because they feel real through it; we all have the potential to make good and bad choices, after all. So what could be Halsin's evil-aligned ending? Well, remember when he questions if the Shadow Druids actually have a point? How about giving the player the opportunity to push him further down that path instead... Shadow Druid Halsin, holy shit.

Now, there's one more thing I want to circle back to: Halsin's past. He very casually speaks of his time as a captive in the Underdark. And maybe it was so long ago that he's long dealt with such trauma, but still, I really wish there was a way to say "hey bud, that's really fucked up and I'm sorry that happened to you." But there's not a single dialogue option that allows you to express sympathy, besides just saying "that's awful", which doesn't cut it. Halsin himself says, "sometimes I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt." Not allowing the player to be sensitive to his feelings goes exactly against this message not to judge a person's emotions by physical appearances.

Anyway, Halsin is a character that I think has a lot of potential, but doesn't quite reach it in game. I think it's great that he was given a bigger role due to popularity, but I just wish that role was expanded on to the same degree as the other companions.

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #meta #rape tw

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hollandorks · 8 months

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter five

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I won't lie, I love this chapter, especially because it shows one of my favorite things about this reader very clearly--the fact that she only has one braincell. She's been surprisingly fun to write, even with all of the angst!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

The doors opened with a noise so loud she winced.

When she looked up, she was face to face with a gun.

Y/n was afraid in a distant sort of way. It was, sadly, not the first time she’d been held at gunpoint pursuing a story. But the first time had been with a wire under her shirt and a whole bunch of cops around the corner.

This time, she was alone.

And the man on the other end of the gun was a cop.

“Shit,” Lieutenant Gordon said and, mercy of all mercies, put away his weapon. “What are you doing here?”

For some reason, the disappearance of the gun kicked the fear up a notch. Her heart suddenly tried to take flight. She took a deep breath, dizzy now, and managed to say, “Got a second for that interview?” Her voice was too high. Probably not the best time to crack a joke, but she obviously wasn’t thinking clearly.

Behind Gordon was a shadow.

No, a man.

The Batman.

His mouth was slightly parted, what she could see of his face…almost shocked.

“You two look awfully surprised to see that someone followed you. The blindingly bright light wasn’t very hard to find.” She should shut up, she thought distantly. She still wasn’t sure if they could be trusted. But the fear was ebbing away, slowly but surely.

Gordon pinched between his eyes, the movement pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

“There’s a locked gate that requires a code. There’s barbed wire.” He sounded like Alfred when she and Bruce had gotten into something they were told not to touch or do as kids. Tired dad voice, they called it, snickering behind his back.

She hooked her thumb in Batman’s direction. He still stood absolutely still, cape blowing in the breeze, his mouth closed now. “Followed this guy in.”

Gordon looked over at the vigilante. “This is the girl you–”

“I remember,” Batman said in that voice of gravel and smoke. It sent a thrill of fear through her. Actually, his voice was kind of sexy, now that she was thinking about it.

She was losing her mind. She had barely slept in a week and she was losing her mind. She was with two men she wasn’t sure if she could trust, on top of an abandoned building where it would be very easy to kill her, and she was thinking of sexy voices. Well, one sexy voice in particular. No offense to Gordon, she thought wryly.

“I’m also, um…a journalist.” This was directed at the vigilante. In her experience, honesty opened up more doors than it shut. She was usually pretty good at figuring out when to lie, particularly about her profession, and when to tell the truth. Or when to split the difference. She trusted her gut more often than not, and right now, she was relatively at ease. “Couldn’t help it, sorry.”

“So you just…” Gordon waved a hand vaguely.

“Followed the light? Yeah. I just hope it doesn’t lead to death like it usually does.” God, she needed to stop cracking jokes. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. “So if you’re going to murder me, can I please at least get a good quote first?”

“This concerns her anyway,” Batman said, shocking her so much that she nearly toppled over the edge of the tower. And–oh shit, the tower was really tall and had absolutely no walls or rails or anything to protect her from the drop. She took a shaky step back towards the elevator, but it had returned down below. Heights had never been her friend. An irony, Bruce liked to point out, because she lived in a tower. Then that would almost always start an argument about what “irony” meant.

“Are you sure?” Gordon said. The wind whistling in her ears made it hard to hear. She hoped the question wasn’t Are you sure we shouldn’t kill her? and was instead simply Are you sure we’re going to trust her?

“We can always throw her over,” he said. There was something almost familiar about his voice, she realized, but then the words caught up to her.

She gulped, dizzy again, but Gordon did a double take. “Did you just make a joke, man?”

The Batman gave no indication that it had been a joke. She gripped the pepper spray tighter. Not that it would help her if she got tossed over the side, but it made her feel a little better.

“He’s kidding, don’t worry. Tell her you’re kidding, she looks ready to puke.” Gordon crossed his arms, clearly not intimidated in the least by the hulking figure of the vigilante.

“I’m kidding,” the Batman said with a cutting glance towards Gordon. “I don’t kill people.”

She squinted at him, unable to clearly see him in the darkness. She really couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. She guessed he had to have at least some sense of humor about all of this. He was dressed as a fucking bat, after all.

She decided to trust them. “Okay, which means I’ll be really upset if you make an exception for me. I’ll haunt your ass. Yours too, Gordon, because supposedly you’re the only cop who isn’t corrupt in this city.” She crossed her arms and shivered. As long as she ignored the sheer drop surrounding her on three sides, she’d be fine. “Though I’m not convinced yet. I’ve been gone from Gotham for too long.”

“The force has changed a lot in a year.” Another look exchanged with the vigilante. “But I understand the sentiment.”

Y/n glanced around, keeping her eyes on the view instead of the drop. “So no one else has ever followed you up here?” she asked curiously. She saw what she was pretty sure was a spotlight on the far side of the platform. “Because seriously, the light is a dead giveaway.”

“His girlfriend did once,” Gordon said, and he smiled. “But no one else.”

“Wasn’t my girlfriend,” the Batman mumbled. Mumbled. He was suddenly less scary when he sounded like any surly man denying any attachment to a woman.

Her ears perked up. “Oh? She got a name?”

They both gave her looks that said they knew exactly what she was up to. She shrugged, the perfect picture of innocence. It was worth a shot.

She changed tactics. “You said this concerns me. What does?”

“The murders you witnessed,” Gordon said. “We found ties to the Gallo family. I was coming to fill him in.”

“The Gallo family,” she repeated. She knew this already, but better to play at ignorance in case they gave her more information. That and it hadn’t been confirmed by someone who was on the investigation team. “The mobsters in New York?”

“The very same.”

“Was the one who got away one of them?” she asked. Because that would be bad. Very bad.

“We didn’t get any information out of the other three. One…committed suicide not too long ago, actually. Part of why I’m here.” Gordon sighed. “Getting rid of Falcone created a vacuum. The Gallos are just the first ones powerful enough to fill the space.”

Falcone. She knew the name. Knew the story. Knew he’d been responsible for the deaths of Bruce’s parents. That was one death she hadn’t begrudged the Riddler–at least Thomas and Martha had gotten justice, in the end.

The Batman turned and looked over the city. His figure cut a dark shadow across the city skyline. “Any ideas where to start looking?”

“So you can bust some heads?” Gordon said. He was smiling. Y/n looked between them. It was fascinating. They were obviously close but this only confirmed it. She itched to take notes but she didn’t want either of them to snatch her phone. Damn, she should have set it to record when she was in the elevator. Gordon continued, “But no. We’re coming up empty so far. None of the typical informants have heard anything about the Gallo family. As far as we know, none of them are actually in the city. If they are, they’re laying low.”

“Could you identify them again?” Batman asked. His eyes glinted in the darkness as he faced her again. She noticed he hadn’t come any closer to her, unlike Gordon who was only a couple of feet away. Instead he was near the edge, about as far away from them as he could get. Was it to make her feel better, safer?

“Maybe, with the help of the video.” She knew eyewitness testimonies were shaky at best. And the more traumatic the event, the more unreliable the testimony could be. But a video helped and would do wonders in court. “What does this mean for me?” she asked. “Am I supposed to stay locked up forever, afraid to go out in case there’s a mob hit on me? Or even just a regular murderer trying to take out a witness? Because both of those are kind of shitty.”

“Yes,” Batman said at the exact same time Gordon said, “Probably.”

Her heart sank.

“We’ve been protecting your identity as best we can,” Gordon said in a sure tone that again made her think of Alfred. She wondered if Gordon had kids. “But we can’t be sure there isn’t a leak in the department. We’re still plugging all the holes left behind from Falcone.”

She winced. “Okay, I’ve done two bad things so far.” The Batman crossed his arms. Gordon motioned for her to continue. “First, I may or may not have been loaned out to the Tribune on special assignment to report on my own case. So the editor definitely knows my identity. And I also may or may not have reached out to a GCPD officer to be a source.”

She heard the Batman sigh even over the noise of the wind. Gordon was pinching the bridge of his nose again. Their response made her feel like a little kid getting in trouble and it made her bristle. She bit her tongue to keep from immediately defending herself.

“Which officer?” Gordon asked and his tone told her all she needed to know. He didn’t trust some of his fellow cops, if any.

“He hasn’t even agreed to be a source yet, and besides I have the right to protect–”

“Which officer?” Batman cut in, the sharp growl of his voice startling her.

The sound of it made her spit it out. “Martinez.”

Both men visibly relaxed. “Martinez is solid. There’s a reason I brought him with me to get your statement,” Gordon said. “We can trust him.”

“Okay, good. That’s good. See? I’m not a total idiot.” She relaxed marginally.

“Maybe you’re just lucky,” Batman said.

She laughed humorlessly. “Lucky? Well, buddy, you know what I was doing the same day I witnessed a fucking mob hit? Burying my mother and grandmother. And don’t even get me started on the rest of my personal life right now.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Gordon said with a sharp look. “His humor takes some getting used to.”

Batman mumbled something under his breath again that sounded a lot like I can talk for myself. But he didn’t actually butt in.

“Okay, whatever. What can I do? I don’t want to be killed, obviously, and I don’t particularly like the idea of being locked in an ivory tower either, nice as it is.” What she didn’t say was that she wasn’t sure she could handle being locked in Wayne Tower with Bruce Wayne. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t be reminded of how close they used to be and the distance between them now. And all of that on top of the immense grief she experienced at unpredictable times. She never knew when she’d be reminded of her grandmother and subsequently that she was gone. Around every corner, through every doorway, was the potential for a punch to the gut when she remembered her grandmother was dead.

“What can you do? Stop sneaking into construction sites at night, for one,” Gordon said with a soft snort. “But any information, anything, you come up with while working on this story, send it to me, too. And we’ll work with you on identifying that fourth suspect.”

“You aren’t going to tell me to stop investigating?”

It was the Batman who answered. “Would you actually stop?” His voice was rough on her skin, giving her goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold or the fear of heights.

She shrugged. “Probably not. But I don’t want to die, either.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said. He took a step forward. She noticed how broad his shoulders were, how sharp his jaw was, how his gloved hands were clenched into fists at his side. She really, really should have found a way to sneakily record everything. She was probably closer to the Batman than most people had ever been.

She swallowed. “Don’t worry, Wayne Tower’s plenty secure.”

“Still. I’ll be around.”

“That sounds a lot like stalking.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I promise I won’t peek in your windows.” A twitch at the corner of his lips.

“That sounded a lot like another bad joke,” she said. But she smiled.

“Let me drive you home,” Gordon interrupted. He was glancing back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. She wanted to protest, but she doubted her luck had held long enough for her to be able to get a taxi back home.

“What, that’s it? Two whole pieces of information and you go home? You guys don’t text or anything?” She crossed her arm. She really hadn’t gotten any more information that she didn’t have–except for the suicide of one of the suspects. If it even was a suicide. “This meeting could have been an email.”

“Never know who’s listening,” Gordon said. He tilted his head towards the vigilante. “Besides, he’s paranoid. Only calls if he needs something. Hates texting.”

She eyed the man in question. If he hated texting, maybe he wasn’t as young as she thought. Then again, Bruce hated texting too, old man at heart that he was. But he was the exception, not the rule.

“I’d really appreciate it if you two kept me in the loop too. Quid pro quo,” she said.

“For your article?” Batman asked. There was a certain edge to his words that made her think he didn’t like reporters. And really, it made sense. If she was trying to keep her identity a secret, she wouldn’t like reporters either. They were a chronically nosy bunch even when they weren’t working on a story.

“For my life. If I survive this, yeah I’m going to write a hell of an article. But I kind of have to be alive to write it, don’t I?” She crossed her arms again and stared him down.

“Quid pro quo,” Gordon said. “As long as you two agree to play nice.” He chuckled, like it was part of a joke.

“Keeping her alive is nice,” Batman said. Another joke? Every interaction between him and Gordon solidified the fact that they got along well and were around each other often. No way Gordon didn’t know the guy’s real identity. But if they were as close as she suspected and if Gordon was as honorable as everyone said…no way was he going to let any hints slip.

Her mind spun as the two men talked quietly about off the clock watches of Wayne Manor. She now had two very reliable sources for her article–if they really did keep her in the loop–and a new certainty that an op-ed for the Batman was in her future. She doubted any reporters in Gotham had spent as much time with the vigilante as she already had. Her veins thrummed with that inner fire.

She might be able to expose a mob conspiracy and the Batman’s identity in one fell swoop.

It was all she could think of as Gordon drove her home.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #battinson #bruce wayne #the batman #haven #haven fic

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holylulusworld · 3 months

Text

The Widow - Prologue

Summary: You trust now one. Not since they got your husband killed.

Pairing: TFaTW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: death of a loved-one, reader is under protection, bitchy reader, arguments, grumpy Bucky, angst, blood, character's death,

The widow masterlist

Blood…so much blood.

You always feared your life with Ransom would end like this.

On the run, without anyone siding with you but the cops.

After your husband ratted his partners out it was only a matter of time before you ended up dead.

One greedy agent and you held your dying husband in your arms.

He choked on his blood, staring up at you with scared eyes. “Y/N…sorry…Y/N…”

“You goddamn idiot,” you cried and kissed him hard. “I know…I love you…”

Two years later…

“Why me?” Bucky releases the deepest sigh ever leaving his lips. “Sam, I don’t want to play babysitter for some spoiled woman. Maybe Torres can protect her.”

“Bucky, you are the only super-soldier I know. Torres is a good man and can stand his ground d. But the people who are after Y/N Y/L/N are not the cuddly kind of enemy. If they try to kill you, they use a scalpel to cut you into tiny pieces, not a weapon.”

“Do you try to cheer me up, or scare me?” Bucky scoffs. “You want me to risk my life for some criminal’s wife? Why? We agreed on doing this job to protect the innocent, not people getting rich at the expense of others. That’s not who we are.”

“We protect people who need protection. She ended up in this situation because she fell in love with the wrong man. I checked her background and found out that until her marriage with her deceased husband, she was a good person without a criminal record.”

“She lived a fabulous life, spending money she didn’t earn,” the super-soldier grunts. “How do we know she won’t rat us out, and we all end up dead?”

“You jump out of an airplane without a parachute and now you are scared of a widow needing your protection?” Sam grins. “Aw, are we getting old?”

“Watch your tongue,” Bucky points his gloved index finger at Sam. “I didn’t say that I’m scared. I just don’t trust a criminal’s wife.”

“Who’s that?” You size the new arriver up. “Another loser not knowing how to handle a gun?” You sneer as the agent tries to find another lie. “What? Do you want to tell me that this one will protect me and my husband better than the last agents?”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, this is James Buchanan Barnes,” the agent stammers, as if you should know the name. “He’ll protect you at all costs.”

“Oh, yeah? Like the other ones protecting us before?” You cock your head and raise your hand to stop the agent from talking. “Did you forget that you got my husband and his brother killed?”

“He got killed because he did business with the wrong people,” Bucky sneers. “You made your bed, now sleep in it. I’m not here on free terms. No one wants to protect the likes of you.”

You grit your teeth and glare at the newly arrived asshole. “Do you think I care? One of your so-called fine people ratted my husband and me out for some hard cash. So, you are no better than me. At least I didn’t kill people for money.”

“I see you will get along very well,” Sam pats his friend’s shoulder. “Just remember, don’t kill her. She’s the last witness alive. If she dies, they will all get away with their crimes.”

“I should leave you to your misery. Why should I care about their crimes?” You pucker your lips. “You got my Ransom killed! He only tried to make more money than his fucked-up family. He never harmed anyone with his transactions! When he found out about their crimes, he did the right thing!”

For a moment, you let your mask slip, and the grief shows. Bucky blinks, but the sadness in your y/e/c orbs is gone, and he’s not sure it happened.

"Just shut up princess and we will get along very well..."

Part 1

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #tfatws!bucky barnes

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alovesongtheywrote · 3 months

Note

nightmare academia puts me through the ringer EVERY TIME and i love it

♥ Summary: in a few chapters, it's gonna get worse!! for now tho... In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: cops. cops being terrible, cops exploiting the system, and cops shaming a woman for being a sex worker. also, violence, implied violence, and past violence.

♥ A/N: holy shit, this chapter is Very Long

♥ Word Count: 4885

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

In the weeks that followed, Spencer brought the BAU to you. Of course, not everyone could make it. Kate Callahan was off raising her children. Penelope Garcia was the target of several hitmen (whereas Frank was probably the target of a single hitman. Massive difference. Trust me.) And Derek Morgan remained at Quantico with Garcia- so you really weren’t sure what to expect. The agents you had the strongest feelings about were out of commission. The last time you’d met his team it did not uh, how would you put it? End well? So you were- justifiably- a touch guarded.

That changed. Eventually.

It started with Adam.

At that point in the investigation, local law enforcement had only shown your friend cruelty, distrust, and skepticism. Honestly? You were about to start biting people about it. (Yeah, maybe it would have gotten you arrested, but at that point, you did not care. At the very least, biting would make you feel productive.) You were well and truly prepared for Spencer’s law enforcement team to behave in a similar manner to the local cops- and to be honest, you probably should have been. Most Feds would carry that same suspicion and distrust, and if they didn’t they were probably faking it to try and get a confession.

The BAU, however, are not most Feds. For several reasons. Either way, you were well and truly prepared to maul the next person who treated your friend like garbage, fed or otherwise. There was never a need.

The BAU showed Adam basic decency. They didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him as a demeaning stereotype- and yes, that was the barest of bare minimum, but it was still something. While they regarded him with mild suspicion for the first like, two minutes, it only took the team that same two minutes to come to the conclusion that Adam was innocent. After that, the BAU was just as dedicated to clearing Adam’s name as you were.

“Adam had an incredibly emotional response when we mentioned Frank,” Hotchner explained to the local detectives, “He’s genuinely devastated by what happened. He couldn’t have done this. Even if he did attack Frank, it wouldn’t have been a clinical hit.”

“Emotions tend to make things messy- we would have seen something much more personal, with more violence and more remorse,” Rossi added.

The detectives did not listen. The detectives did not care.

“I’d say a gunshot wound is pretty messy,” one laughed.

“Yeah,” another jumped in, “Try telling the vic’ that things aren’t messy.”

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming, but you didn’t stay entirely silent. If the detectives weren’t going to give a shit on their own, then you were going to make them.

“Have you actually?” you asked, crossing your arms, “Have you spoken to the victim?”

“Eh, someone else got around to it,” the first detective asked, looking at his partner with the special kind of uncertainty that came with getting called out.

“Did you read the report, then?”

“Well, I’m on the case, aren’t I?”

“Answer the question, detective.”

In the telling silence that followed, Rossi had to turn away to hide his (failed) attempt to suppress a grin. Hotchner looked proud, despite not knowing you very well. Spencer looked like he might grab you by the waist and kiss you until you were out of breath. He didn’t, though, for lots of reasons- his boss was there, he hadn’t asked you if you’d like to be kissed, there was more serious stuff to focus on, and like… you already looked fucking pissed.

The detectives just looked embarrassed.

“I- uh. I’ve skimmed it,” the first detective stuttered out.

“Yeah, cool, not good enough,” you nabbed the case file from a nearby desk and pressed it into the officer’s hands, “Consider reading the report. You’ll find that the victim disagrees with you.”

Both detectives stared at the file as if they were seeing it for the first time- as if they were seeing a file for the first time. You sighed.

“Detective, if I may ask, how much overtime have you put in on this case?” the man in front of you blanched at your question. You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking angry, “Cool. I thought so.”

“Ough,” Rossi winced with faux sympathy, “Overtime? And you haven’t even read the case file?”

“Hey, we’ve been very busy these last few weeks!”

The second officer nodded, “Just last week, we had five break-ins in the downtown area.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” you turned to leave before doubling back, “But before I go, I need to ask- do you care about the wellbeing of the break-in vics the way you care about this case? Do you care about all victims so dearly? Or do you treasure their testimony the way you “treasure” the testimony in this case?”

“What? What are you saying, what do you-”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s the latter.”

“What? Okay, what the hell do you know about police work-!”

“They’re an expert criminologist,” Spencer said, seething slightly.

“Dr. Reid is right. I know a thing or two about crime- and if I’m just gonna put it this way. I’ve seen the data. I’ve heard testimony from victims and offenders. I know the local and nationwide statistics for unreported crimes. You’re concerned about the victim hearing that his case isn’t messy? Look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never told a victim that their situation- their serious situation- was a waste of police time.”

The officers couldn’t look at your face, much less your eyes. You had done what you needed to do.

“You wanna solve crimes? You wanna be the hero? Then take a goddamned ethics class, read your fucking case files, care for your community, and do your fucking job.”

The detectives tried in vain to defend themselves. They were unsuccessful- especially in the face of the three FBI agents that immediately backed you up.

“Dr. (L/N) is right. The number of unreported crimes will astound you,” Rossi said, smirking like the little shit that we all know he is.

“This is especially prevalent with sexual assault cases, theft and scams, and other crimes where the victim may feel a sense of embarrassment- or crimes where the victim feels like their case won’t be taken seriously,” Spencer added in a very Spencer-like way.

“And everything you need to know about this crime is in the file. If you’d read it, you’d know that the victim is very insistent that your guy didn’t do it, and one could say that, oh, I don’t know, he’s a strong eyewitness. He is the victim and all,” Rossi continued, getting their asses.

They struggled to respond, “Well- I- We-”

“And even if you discount the eyewitness testimony, there’s still the matter of alibis and ballistics. Security cameras have placed Adam away from the community center at the time of the shooting. The ballistics aren’t a match to any weapon that Adam has ever come into contact with. Even if they were a match, he hasn’t handled a weapon since his release from prison as a condition of his parole. But if you had checked the file, you’d know that,” Hotch added, also smirking like a little shit, but with a slight edge to it- that edge, kids, is called “pissed off authority figure.”

“Hey, it-”

“It just sounds like poor police work to me,” Spencer had the biggest smirk of all- the smirk of a little shit who’s proud of his team and of his hot co-professor, “Had you actually done any of your research, you would realize that the suspect you have in custody is being held on police bias and circumstantial evidence. Any good lawyer can get this case thrown out, and then where will you be?”

His smirk turned to a full grin when you shot him a small smile of your own.

The detectives continued to sputter out responses. For once, the second one spoke, “Now, we may not be fancy FBI agents, but this precinct has a solid track record of convictions-”

“Were those convictions based on circumstance and bias?” Neither detective answered Spencer’s question. He continued, “Even if this precinct had a perfect track record, that wouldn’t make it invulnerable to mistakes- and even if it did, you would still have the responsibility of approaching each case like professionals to ensure the wellbeing of victims, suspects, and families.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you slid forward, putting a hand on Spencer’s arm, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go speak with the victim. His name is Frank, by the way.”

And just like that, you pulled Dr. Spencer Reid away- and he did not resist in the slightest. In fact, he held the door open for you as you exited the precinct. Rossi was pretty sure he saw the kid get behind the wheel.

As the detectives scurried away with their tails between their legs, the older agent let out a long whistle.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that our young Dr. Reid is officially smitten.”

“He was smitten the last time we were here,” Hotch said, pulling another copy of the case file from seemingly nowhere- one of his many unit chief powers.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time it’s bad. Garcia’s gonna be mad that she didn’t get to see it.”

Hotch nodded, solemnly.

“Y’know, I think the three of them combined could probably take down the whole FBI.”

“You’re right,” Hotch snapped the file closed with a tiny little proud-dad-type smile, “We’re awfully lucky that they’re focused on something else at the moment.”

Missy got your guard to drop further.

Initially, she was hesitant to have the Feds drop in on Frank’s case- you both were. You were used to local law enforcement treating her like shit. You didn’t stand for it- every time a cop or lawyer so much as dared to look at her wrong, you bared your teeth like a damn dog and threatened to bite where it would hurt. Y’know. Lawsuits. Missy wasn’t exactly a pushover, either. She was one of the strongest people you knew, and you were well aware that she could hold her own. If Missy wanted to be scary, she could be fucking terrifying.

Still, it was a little exhausting to fight all these battles against people in positions of authority who were so convinced that their series of events was correct, and anyone who went against it was nothing more than a lying ex-con. Having the BAU in your pockets certainly helped with that.

“I already told you what happened. I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to, but the story isn’t going to change,” Missy groaned, voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, then. We’ll go over your testimony again. A few more times, if you don’t mind,” One of the local detectives smirked, ignoring the death glare you sent her way.

“Fine. Frank was walking me to the community center. I was taking a class on resume writing. It was cloudy, not raining, but cold. We came around the side of the building when a man in a leather jacket walked around the corner.”

“And what did this man do?”

“He- he shot Frank. He tried to kill my-” she took a shaky breath. You put a hand on her arm, aiming for gentle comfort and reassurance. Missy nodded, letting you know you’d hit your target.

“Did you see his face?” The officer continued.

“No. He was wearing one of those bike helmets that block off the person’s eyes- but I swear, it wasn’t Adam. This guy was too bulky. Adam’s made of wires, he needs to eat more.”

“You seem to have a lot of affection for Adam,” the detective leaned forward, “Now, we know you’ve claimed to be in a relationship with Frank- but could you describe your relationship with Adam for us?”

“I already said it! I took a couple classes with him! He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mhmm. That’s all. And in your previous line of work- the one that earned you a prison sentence of twelve months and a little over minimum wage- you had a lot of ‘friends,’ yes?”

“Excuse me?” your fingers bit into the table that separated you from the cop. You had half a mind to jump over the thing and throttle the smug detective sitting before you.

“What?” Missy growled, “You think just because I used to hook I fuck all my friends now? I’ve taken a few classes with Doc (L/N), I haven’t fucked them!”

You nodded in solemn agreement. The detective shrugged this off, ignoring everything that came out of Missy’s mouth. When she spoke again, her voice rang with the faux pity of someone who held themselves leagues above Missy.

“You know, I can see why you were looking at writing up a resume- your old line of work is so degrading. You know you’re never the same, afterwards. You can never wash off the shame. You’ll always be a little broken. A little-”

“Okay, that’s enough-” you stood up, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Hey, fuck you, man-” Missy leaned forward, “Don’t tell me what hooking did to me. You don’t know me. You don’t fucking know.”

“And now you’re lashing out. Poor thing-”

“Detective Foy. A word,” Tara Lewis, a newer BAU agent who you hadn’t really had the pleasure of meeting materialized in the doorway like a perfectly timed ghost, ready to right some wrongs and keep you from committing a murder. Her request for a word was perfectly intimidating, disclosing the not-so-secret secret that the request itself was not actually a request.

“I’m sorry, Agent, I’m in the middle of an interrogation-”

“It’s not an interrogation. You’re questioning a witness. Agent Jareau will handle things from here. Now, a word?”

You and Missy watched as the detective slunk out of the room with her tail between her legs. Moments later, JJ joined you, but she didn’t bother to start a line of questioning. Instead, the three of you watched in giddy silence as Tara Lewis destroyed Detective Foy where she stood. You couldn’t hear her through the glass, but you could vaguely read the words, “You are a police officer meant to serve and protect the people in your community, and uphold the law. You should educate yourself on the law, and on what it means to serve and protect.” On her lips.

You could’ve been off on that translation, but either way, it was sick as fuck. By the time Tara was finished, you and Missy were barely holding back your laughter. You probably would’ve held it in if JJ hadn’t turned around with a pleased grin on her face.

“Ok, well, I’ve known Agent Lewis for about three minutes, and already I adore her,” you cackled.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Missy said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, we certainly like her,” Jennifer grinned, clearly proud of her teammate and happy to see that someone outside the BAU had taken notice.

A few moments later, Tara re-entered the room with a tired sigh on her lips. It didn’t take her long to realize that you were all staring right at her.

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, we just think, as a group,” you looked around like you were the leader of the world’s weirdest (and maybe coolest?) group project, “That you are, objectively, excellent.”

“Yep. Not bad for a Fed.”

Again, you nodded in agreement, “I concur.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, “Thank you?”

Missy gave Tara a thumbs up. You followed her lead. Not really knowing what else to do in this situation, and figuring there was no harm in joining the madness, Tara returned the thumbs up.

“Well, like we said, we’ll take over the questioning from here,” JJ took a seat as she spoke. Tara joined her at the table.

“So, after Frank was shot, did you see where the attacker went?”

“No. I was kind of focused on my partner bleeding on the ground.”

“That’s fair- but try to think back. Did you see anything in your peripheral vision? Did you hear anything?”

Missy paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she still sounded lost in thought, “I heard a bike. It makes sense with the helmet- I think it might’ve been a Yamaha?”

“Wait, you can tell which brand a bike is by the sound?” you asked, not disbelieving Missy, but distracted by the new knowledge that a person could do such a thing.

“If you let me think about it, I could probably give you the make and model.”

“Holy shit, really?” your eyes were wide. Your expression betrayed just how bewildered and impressed you were by vehicle knowledge. It might’ve been basic knowledge, but fuck it, the author can’t drive.

“Oh, absolutely- different bikes make different sounds. Cars are similar,” Tara nodded her agreement.

“You can tell cars apart by their sounds!?”

“Yeah? Can’t you?” Missy turned to face you, slightly bemused.

“I can tell that they’re old? Or like, electric, I guess?”

“Okay, when this is all over, I’m giving you a lesson.”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Tara added.

“Excellent!” Missy smiled, “Now everyone shut up and let me think.”

The way the BAU treated Frank dragged your guard down further. They were gentle, but not dehumanizing or infantilizing. They just treated him like a human person, and you found that neat, and more importantly, Frank found that neat.

Also, the BAU laughed at Frank’s anecdotes and jokes. I will be fully honest. That was more of a relief to you, especially because a decent chunk of those anecdotes and jokes were about you murdering the shit out of Spencer Reid using nothing but your words.

It really started on that very first day, when you and Spencer had gone to visit Frank. He could see it from his hospital bed- Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, the way Spencer was very clearly trying to comfort you from some unknown upset, and that was it.

Frank said, “Wow. Those two have sure come a long way from Doc telling him to go die in a ditch.”

And JJ, who had been questioning him, choked on her coffee and wheezed out a, “What?”

And that was pretty much it. Frank explained that Spencer had pissed you off, you’d hit him with the “die in a ditch” thing, and he looked so sad that you literally forgave him the next day. (He left out the bit about the stabbing, because stabbing doesn’t just kill people, it kills moods.)

From then on, Frank was the premium source of gossip on you and Spencer. Of course, Missy got in on it, too.

When they told Rossi about the time you’d called Reid a “shit-licking asshole fed,” the agent laughed so hard that he literally couldn’t speak for a solid minute. Was he a big fan of the anti-fed talk? Not particularly. But you had gone at it with such gusto, and with such anger, that he couldn’t help but cackle.

You knew none of this, but you knew that everyone involved seemed happier after the BAU took the case. That was good enough for you.

Your guard fell because of Spencer.

Wasn’t that always the way this was going to go?

While the BAU took care of your friends, Spencer took care of you. He made sure you got home safe. He kept you in the loop about everything case-relevant. He made sure you remembered to eat, which was kind of hypocritical of him, but oh well. He offered to drive you to and from the hospital, which was a fun kind of hell, because the man obeyed every traffic law ever made, but you got to bully him for it, so it all evened out in the end. He distracted you from the nightmare you were living through by offering fun facts. He made the nightmare better just by being him.

And he was the one to get Adam out.

He didn’t announce this victory to you. He just showed up one day, at the hospital, following behind Adam as the newly freed man burst into Frank’s room.

“Frank! Hey, are you good man? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I would’ve been, but you know how it is with cops.”

“Shit, dude,” Frank beamed, “All things considered, I’m not too bad.”

“Holy shit, Adam?” you let out a hospital-appropriate screech.

“Oh my god,” Missy stood from her place at Frank’s bedside to give him a hug. For a moment, she held him so tightly that it looked like Adam legitimately couldn’t breathe.

The moment she saw Spencer lingering in the background, she switched from one wire-shaped man to the next. Spencer hugged her back politely, and then, in an instant, she was onto you.

“You sons of bitches did it! You actually did it!”

“Did we?” you asked Spencer, lowering your voice as Missy, Frank, and Adam enjoyed their reunion.

“We did,” Spencer confirmed, stepping closer to you until you were side to side, whispering to each other to avoid disturbing your friends, “We found bank statements proving that this was a targeted hit, unrelated to Adam. We’ve only been able to find the unsub’s side so far, but it won’t take us long to find whoever contracted him.”

“Shit- that’s both really good and mildly fucking terrifying.”

“I know,” Spencer answered almost too quickly, but he covered it up just as fast, “But it means that Adam is a free man. It’s almost over, (Y/N).”

You let out a small exhale, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “Almost. Thank you, Spence. For all of this, for everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me. It wasn’t just the new evidence.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, there was this local criminology professor, maybe you’ve heard of them. They were incredibly insistent that law enforcement look deeper into the case, and because of them, the conviction vanished.”

A smile slipped onto your face as you turned to face him, “Was that a joke, Spence? You’re doing ha-ha funny jokes now?”

“I’m saying you did a good thing, here, (Y/N). Look,” he nodded towards the hospital bed, where your friends were talking, beaming, clinging to each other’s hands like they’d been shot, traumatized, and separated for months- which was an accurate summary, actually.

At your side, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, weaving your fingers between his slender ones. You felt his grip tighten, his palm pressed tightly to yours. His hands were warm.

“We did a good thing,” you whispered.

You pulled him closer by the hand. You weren’t harsh or forceful, but Spencer still stumbled into you with what can only be described as a somewhat lovestruck grin on his face.

And then his phone rang.

You watched his face fall as he answered it. His fingers drifted away from yours. You could almost hear Hotchner’s voice on the other end. The call only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything. The air in the room grew heavy. The room fell silent.

“We found the unsub. My team is confronting him now, I-” he paused.

“They want you to go with them.”

“I have to.”

A shaky breath escaped your lungs, and you were kinda pissed at it- how dare that shaky breath reveal how you actually felt? How dare it break free from your body, alerting Spencer that your world had just spun out sideways for the millionth time that week.

You were gonna square up with that fucking breath.

But first, without saying another word, you nodded towards the door. Spencer nodded back. Like that, he was gone. You watched him go. You stared at the empty doorway after he’d left. The room remained silent.

I mean, it did until it didn’t- your friends couldn’t watch that and say nothing. I don’t think anybody could.

“Holy shit, you’re just gonna let him leave without saying goodbye?” Adam asked, looking between you and the door so quickly that you were almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off.

“He’s down bad,” Frank whispered, nodding in agreement, “Go get him.”

“I- he’s gonna be back in five minutes,” you tried to reason. It didn’t work.

“He could be back never! He might die!” Missy ran forward, gripping your shoulders.

“He’s got a bulletproof vest-”

“THERE IS SO MUCH THOSE THINGS DON’T COVER!!” Missy progressed to shaking you, slightly, “Go get him! Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Tell him you’re also down bad!” Frank exclaimed, no longer whispering.

“Down bad-? What the fuck does that even mean,” you said, your voice growing quieter and quieter as you left the room and headed down the hallway.

“... Y’know, they taught me what ‘down bad’ means.”

“Same.”

As your friends continued to discuss, you were already halfway down the hallway, walking as fast as you could given the hospital setting. Spencer was nowhere to be seen and you really didn’t have time to look. You really had one choice. The elevators.

You reached them just in time to watch that lanky noodle motherfucker step inside.

Giving up on decorum, you raced through the hospital corridor, yelling out apologies at every human person you passed- fortunately there weren’t too many, so it wasn’t like you caused a massive disturbance. Most people just thought you were having your rom-com finale moment. Maybe some part of you was trying to, but honestly, you weren’t really thinking about it. You were mostly just thinking, “Shit, shit, shit, I have to get in that elevator.”

And you did! You made it! You stumbled through the doors and came to a stop in the middle of that tiny box. Spencer reached out to steady you, his expression letting you in on his amused confusion. You smiled up at him, trying not to pant- and then you came to a realization.

You had no fucking clue what the hell you were going to say.

To be fair, what the fuck is a person supposed to say in that situation? “Heyyyy, my friends think I’m in love with you, so now I’m here, wanna talk about that before you head into a dangerous situation involving a hitman and many guns?”

Or perhaps, “Hey! You’re a good person even though I keep insisting you aren’t one, so I want you to know that you’re a good person before I send you off to get murdered!”

Or maybe, “You’re hot, I’m hot, wanna spend the next thirty seconds doing terrible things to this elevator that will get us forcibly removed from this hospital?”

Or even, “Hi, you just did a really nice thing for my friends, and I really appreciate it, and even though I don’t express it, I do care about you a lot, so maybe don’t die in the next few hours. For me. Please.”

In the end, you just settled for, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Spencer replied, not taking his hands from your shoulders even though you were more than steady, “Is everything okay?”

“Okay? Yeah, yeah, everything is, um. Everything’s fine. I just-” you froze again, because seriously, what the fuck could you say right then and there? What could you say that would let him know everything you wanted him to know?

“Are you sure?” he looked at you, held you with such delicate concern. You kind of wanted to partake in elevator ruining activities with Spencer until the two of you got kicked out of the hospital together.

“Yeah- yeah! Everything’s- I’m okay, it’s just,” you raised your hand, letting it hover between the two of you for a moment before you placed it over one of his, “Come out of this alive. Make sure everyone else does, too, but… come out of this okay, okay?”

Spencer hesitated. And then he wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so briefly.

“I will. I promise.”

The elevator bell dinged. You’d reached the parking lot. Spencer let go of your hand with a different kind of hesitation.

“I’ll see you soon,” he offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Spencer disappeared into the parking lot, dashing out of sight and into danger. You stood there, watching until the elevator doors slid shut and that infernal box pulled you back up again. The humming metal lights above and the clanking metal around you harmonized into the perfect soundscape for your empty mind.

Spencer was heading into danger, as he always did. You were returning to serve your community, as you always did. Spencer might not come back, and you would always remain, and you realized that when the case was over, he would go back to Quantico with the BAU, and you probably wouldn’t see him ever again.

And it broke your heart a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. A little bit, perhaps.

You were a long way from, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die,” indeed.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @logicalhorror if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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feverdreamsanddelusions · 5 months

Text

prompt ask game — kidnapping

[tw kidnapping, needles, noncon drugging, betrayal, captivity, threat of murder, knives, guns, hidden in plain sight, intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome]

25 scenarios and 25 dialogue prompts :)

scenarios

chloroformed rag to the face

attacked from behind

attacked by someone whumpee knew and trusted

attacked while fumbling with the keys to their front door

shoved into the back of a van

tranquilised via a little dart

drugged with a syringe to the neck

held at knifepoint

held at gunpoint

threatened into complying

knocked unconscious with bare hands

whumper was in the backseat of their car

whumpee has to pretend everything is okay and they're not currently being kidnapped

waking up in the trunk of a car

waking up in the backseat, tied up and possibly gagged

waking up in a dingy basement

sensory deprivation (noise cancelling earphones, blindfold, gag etc) so whumpee has no idea what's happening

held for ransom

held for information/interrogation

there are multiple whumpers making sure whumpee is not going anywhere

whumpee knows there must be people looking for them

whumpee knows nobody is looking

stockholm syndrome

lima syndrome

whumpee is told exactly how many days their captors are willing to keep them. the literal deadline is approaching

dialogue

"shh, not a sound."

"hush now– you don't want to get other people in trouble, do you?"

"relax, the drugs will kick in soon."

"so feisty... should i tighten the restraints even more?"

"i already know everything i need to know about you, whumpee. do i need to visit your dear friends/family first for you to come with me?"

"this can be very easy or very difficult for you. choose wisely."

"my contract says preferably alive. keep that in mind."

"stop squirming, unless you want me to hurt you more than i intended."

"you're outnumbered."

"get in the car."

"nobody has to get hurt if you comply."

"so... do you think caretaker will pay?"

"wakey wakey, time to talk."

"don't beat yourself up. i promise this would've happened no matter how cautious you tried to be."

"oh, don't be silly. nobody is coming to save you."

"the cops? honey, we have two officers on our team. the cops won't do shit."

"let go of me! let me go!"

"i don't have anything to tell you, you have the wrong person!"

"please, i won't tell anyone– i won't call the police–"

"is this– is this for ransom?"

"they'll be looking for me! you're fucking done for!"

"please, at least... loosen the restraints a little? it hurts so much."

"c-can i go home if they pay?"

"we don't have that kind of money! please, this is impossible!"

"what... what do you mean for fun?"

#whump #whump prompt #whump prompt list #whump scenario #kidnapping #needles #noncon drugging #betrayal #captivity #threat of murder #knives #guns #hidden in plain sight #intimate whumper #conditioned whumpee #stockholm syndrome #ask game

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klbwriting · 2 months

Text

Broken Prism

Chapter 21

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: o this chapter has some fucked up stuff in it, mentions of body mutilation, child death

Summary: Batman and Red Hood go to the scene of the crime, then find out about another murder

Taglist: @amberpanda99 if you would like added to the taglist let me know!

The GCPD didn’t trust Red Hood, so Batman was the only one allowed at the crime scene. Jason waited across the street, not sure what to do honestly. Who killed a family like this? What kind of absolute monster? It made him sick. He paced, watching the cops, who were watching him back. He saw a mix pride and anger depending on the face. He figured they either loved that he had taken out Joker, saving them some work later, or hated him, wanting to get the big score themselves. He wanted to walk over, get as close a look at the scene as possible, but he didn’t want someone to get trigger happy and try shooting him. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Batman walked over to him.

“Gordon is willing to let you walk the scene with me,” he said. Jason nodded and followed him, the cops parting enough so they could get through.

“Since when is Batman friendly with murderers?” “Who does this idiot think he is? A Nightwing ripoff?” “He killed Joker, we should be groveling at his feet right now.” He wanted to scream at them, tell them what had happened, why he had become this person. He shook himself, they wouldn’t understand, ever, and he had made his bed, now he had to lie in it. He followed Batman into the dining room and stared. The family was seated for dinner, the food still on their plates. The parents were eating meatloaf, looks like the kids were having chicken nuggets. Their throats had been slit, which was the only decent thing this monster did. The rest of the scene was haunting.

“Emily Dervish, Dexter Dervish, their children, 7-year-old Amelia, and 4-year-old Tyson,” Gordon explained, voice coming out staggered at the sight. “We will have to wait for the coroner to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” Jason asked, unable to take his eyes off the children.

“To be sure if they were alive or dead when the killer cut off their faces.”

After another hour scouring for evidence and finding nothing Jason and Batman were about to head back to the cave, see if they could find anything there, when another officer came over to Gordon, whispering to him. They watched his face grow ashen and he nodded solemnly.

“There’s been another murder…not completely the same, but they left a note,” he said. “You two better come with me.”

Across town at the McCreary’s Pub there were cops keeping curious onlookers away. Despite it being early morning at this point people were still curious when they saw police tape and a medical examiner’s van. They brought out phones and started taking pictures when Batman and Red Hood arrived. Jason was really glad he hadn’t done the whole social media thing now, he couldn’t imagine what Twitter looked like, him and Batman working together. All those concerns left his mind when he entered the bar. There were at least a dozen bodies, all seated like they had been enjoying a night out, lifeless eyes staring up the ceiling, posed as if gazing towards Heaven.

“What the fuck,” Jason muttered. Batman wandered the room slowly, looking at different angles. Jason started, but then his eyes were drawn to the mirror behind the bar. Once again, a message in blood, the shaping of the letters completely different from the last crime scene.

DID YOU SEE HIM YET RED HOOD?

Batman stared at the message also and then looked at Gordon, nodding his head for the room to be cleared. The commissioner sighed and called for his guys to vacate for a few minutes, letting the vigilantes have the room. Jason started looking at the faces of the patrons, wondering who he was looking for. While Jason looked at faces, Batman looked at him. He could feel the man’s eyes, probably trying to read his body language, see how his mind was at the moment. He wouldn’t lie, his mind was fuzzy, the sight of all this death was almost too much for him to handle and he had been an assassin once. He was trying to avoid staring at the gaping holes in the victims’ chests.

“Why do you think they took the faces and the hearts?” Jason asked, trying to focus in on the case, ignore the dread rising in his chest.

“I am not sure, but we are most definitely dealing with at least two people who are very annoyed at you,” Batman said. Jason didn’t like that, that Batman was already blaming these deaths on him. ‘If you hadn’t killed Joker all these people might be alive’ he could Bruce’s voice in his head, the accusations stinging. “Do you know someone here?” Jason shook his head as he rounded to the back of the bar and stared.

“Ya, I do,” he said, eyes falling on Auggie Valentine. “This guy, um, he was my best, well my only friend in Crime Alley, before you took me in.” He looked at Batman and Batman stormed out of the bar. This was bad. Very bad. If this person had killed one of Jason’s friends that meant they knew who Red Hood was. They knew where he lived. He took off running, climbing on his bike and driving like the devil possessed him back to the cave. He had to know if YN was safe.

You were watching the monitor with Alfred, Dick, Barbara, and Tim, listening to Bruce and Jason talk about the murders. You were horrified by the family, and the bar just made things worse. Then Jason mentioned knowing the bartender and your blood ran cold. Someone knew. Someone knew Jason was Red Hood. The others noticed also, and they started looking around, maybe for listening devices, cameras, maybe for a person hiding in the shadows ready to attack. You sat the computer, staring at the live feed video from Batman’s cowl. You looked at the body of the bartender, noticing that you knew him too. He had been a loyal informant against Black Mask back when you were looking into him. Did the bartender know more than he said? Bartenders knew a lot of things that most people didn’t realize, and he had been willing to talk for no money, just the idea that Gotham would be safer if he helped. Auggie was a great person, you could see how Jason would have been friends with him as a kid. He was a good person; he didn’t deserve to be murdered and have his heart ripped anymore than those children deserved their deaths. It made you sick and you could only imagine what Jason was thinking.

The familiar sound of the Batmobile and Jason’s bike came from the ramp into the cave, and you went with the others to meet them. Jason was off his bike, helmet tossed aside and running towards you, taking your face in his hands, looking frantic.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You nodded, reaching up and taking his hands, holding them in yours. “I thought…they know who I am…”

“Shhh, I’m here, we’re all safe,” you whispered, hugging him tight. He gripped you like he used to after a nightmare, like you were going to vanish if he didn’t hold you tight enough. The others went to the Batcomputer to start discussing the samples Bruce had brought back and the other clues from the crime scenes.

“You’re not safe, please take some time off, please stay here,” Jason begged. You nodded, anything to calm him down. His breathing was hitching, and he was going pale. You guided him to sit on the floor, sitting next to him.

“I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay here, take deep breaths,” you said, rubbing the back of his head gently, petting his hair, catching the white streak and massaging the spot it sat on. He leaned his head into the touch, matching your deep breaths with his own.

“It was awful,” he said, finally calm again. “It’s my fault.”

“It is not your fault. You are not responsible for these monsters. You are a hero,” you said. He shook his head.

“I killed Joker, they saw it as a challenge. I thought it would end with him, but instead I just created a new threat. One head is cut, two more grow back,” he said. You leaned to his shoulder, arms around him.

“Jason, you killing Joker didn’t bring this about, this city is rotten, we all know it. Something in the air here breeds horrible criminals. No matter what happened they would be here, they just picked you because you are doing the most good right now. Just like they went after Batman,” you said, desperate to stop him from spiraling down into self-loathing again. You could see the signs, his eyes distant, his body fatigued from worry and despair.

“I need to go to the others, find out if they have any idea who did this,” Jason said softly, getting up. He walked away, leaving you there.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #brokenprism

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ystrike1 · 11 months

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Fly Me to the Moon - by Mcat (8/10)

Everybody loves a love triangle, but I personally think love lines are more dramatic. It's gross when someone you don't like is following you. Especially when you're busy trying to woo the lover you deserve. The tension is nice, and of course this love line turns into stalking. Also, everybody present is a monster. As a bonus.

She's depressed.

She's ugly.

She's poor.

She's lonely enough to accept any kind of attention.

Our protagonist looks boring as heck at first.

Jeongyeon has been stuck in the role of caregiver for too long. Her mother had cancer, and some people just can't handle that. She became feeble, angry, and spoiled. Jeongyeon had no life when her mother was alive, and now that she's dead there's nothing to...do? She just has an old house, booze, and cigarettes. Taeho is a monster. He's a demon(?) called a Clansmen. Being one is super convenient. You are born super smart. You get to live longer. You get to be pretty, but life gets complicated. The Clan is a secret. It runs like a professional sort of cult. Clan cops and doctors keep everything hushed up, and Clan politicians handle the bribes. Taeho is a piece of shit. His father was also a piece of crap, but Taeho's big brother is Leader. The leader of a huge Clansmen branch. Taegyung is a responsible and good monster guy. He's also kinda Taeho's father AND brother. The slow aging process creates alot of complex relationships. Taeho is spoiled. Everybody lets him do crime and shit because of Taegyung.

Taeho might be spoiled, but life with a brother for a dad kinda stinks. Taeho got married to please everybody. He married a perfect Clan princess, but then he killed her. Taeho is a member of the Seo branch. That means he's really powerful. So powerful that...um...when he takes a wife and has a baby said wife can go insane. His wife ATE his first child. He got angry and he ripped apart the princess. Everybody is blaming him, because he executed her without thinking about what her powerful family would do. He was a terrible husband. Her family wants his head on a plate in exchange for her death...which kinda is unfair. Her insanity wasn't really his fault...and she literally ate a baby, but he should have just captured her. Taeho was almost eaten by his mom as well...so um...yeah he was never going to be normal. Taeho and Taegyung get pressured to marry and have heirs near constantly, because they're so strong, despite the huge insanity risk.

I completely understand why this guy grew up into a bad guy, but he sucks.

He gaslights Jeongyeon. He hangs out at her place while he hides from the Clan that wants him dead. He has no idea how to be affectionate, and he treats Jeongyeon like garbage, even after he develops a crush on her.

Taegyung has to clean up Taeho's mess. Jeongyeon gets bitten. Taeho does it to punish her. To bind her to him and make her more submissive. Taegyung takes over and he does the Clan bond the proper way. Jeongyeon doesn't trust him at first, but they get along well. Taegyung doesn't want an heir because of the whole cannibal wife thing. He can't fully hate Taeho, because he should have never felt pressured to marry in the first place. He starts to realize his brother can't be saved when he gets to know Jeongyeon.

They share cigarettes. They're bonded so they feel some attraction...but nothing happens. Taegyung must marry a princess. He gets pestered about it daily. The bond doesn't mean they're married or anything. It just means Taegyung was the one who helped her body transform. Jeongyeon is prettier now and she's also rich. She gets an expense card, and Taegyung lets her leave.

The leader of the Yu Clan is still very angry. Jeongyeon suffers because she knows Taeho. Everybody assumes she's his mistress, just because Taeho didn't kill or eat her. Jeongyeon gets stalked by demons who want revenge. Taegyung doesn't hover too much, because he's worried. Being a Seo sucks. He feels immensely possessive of Jeongyeon. He tries to put duty first, and he doesn't actually want to lock her up in his mansion. He just gets the urge. It makes him feel like he's not himself.

This guy tries to kill Jeongyeon...but he's really nice. The dead princess was like a sister to him. He hates Taeho because he's a bastard that never gets punished for his crimes. In the end he protects Jeongyeon from Taeho. Taeho comes back acting like a brat right away. He demands to know why Jeongyeon bonded with his brother, which is a joke. He left her bleeding on the floor. The change would have killed her. Taegyung saved her life. Taeho made her a monster without permission, just to scare her into obeying him.

He's the most unattractive kind of yandere.

Jeongyeon eventually becomes strong enough to stand up to him on her own. She didn’t want this life. She didn’t want the money. She was just trying to rebuild after the long and painful death of her mother. Taeho made her life worse. Taegyung makes it better. The choice is obvious. Jeongyeon never wavers. She let Taeho crash on her couch because she was lonely, but no more. No more pity. She slaps him every time she meets him. She rejects the idea that abuse is love.

Chengcheng is the perfect Clan princess. She wants to marry Taegyung. She's been waiting since she turned twelve years old. She thinks she is entitled to him. She thinks Jeongyeon is just another pitiful pet project to Taegyung, just like his loser brother Taeho. She's wrong. Taegyung is getting worse by the day. He keeps fantasizing about hunting down Jeongyeon. That's just the way his bloodline is.

Taegyung starts to interfere more. He shows up whenever Jeongyeon is in trouble. He's clearly not willing to let Taeho drag her off and treat her like a pet. He wants to treat her like a princess. Everybody is shocked by how naive Jeongyeon is. She thinks Taegyung is a total gentleman, but his Clan knows he has spilled more blood than anyone else. I'm not saying he's not a nice guy. He's fair to humans and he tried his best to be a parent for Taeho, but now I think he's going to rip Taeho's face off.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Fly Me to the Moon

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slicznymartwy · 9 months

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Maybe a Billy Lenz X GN!Reader or Billy Lenz X Male!Reader and the reader is dominant? I love the way you portrayed him in your works!!!

… this got away from me.. 2.2k words . very minimal proof reading and I wrote it really fast so please forgive any mistakes .. m!insert is friends with one of the sorority girls and is staying over for dinner when the Moaner calls. warning: non-con/dub-con, a little bit of cock slapping, honestly problematic nsfw

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x dominant m!reader

When your friend tells you about the obscene phone calls, you assume she’s making it out to be worse than it really is. It’s not that you don’t trust her judgement, but you figure there has to be a simpler reason for the calls than some pervert stalker.

You wouldn’t be surprised if it was just a couple of poorly timed wrong-number calls that the girls blew out of proportion the more they talked about it amongst themselves.

You don’t understand the truth of it until you’re the one picking up the phone.

“Pi Kap,” you answer. When there’s no response, you sigh and move the phone to your other ear. “Hello?”

You hear breathing on the other line. Heavy, labored breaths that give you goose bumps. The voice is obviously masculine, so deep and heady that you nearly forget that he’s calling for the girls, not for you. Clearing your throat, you force yourself to focus on reality and not your own weird fantasies.

“Listen here, buddy, you better stop calling this number,” you say sternly, but you’re cut off.

He moans into the receiver, breaking off into coughs when his voice goes too low. It sounds dirty, like he might be stroking himself off while he’s talking to you.

It’s for the girls, you remind yourself. You should be feeling furious, not jealous.

“I mean it. I’ll call the police,” you threaten.

“Fucking sluts,” the voice mutters, coughing again. His coughs are loud now, sounding almost like grotesque gagging. “Pig sluts. I’ll fuck them before you do.”

“What?” you breath out, shocked by his words.

“Gonna fuck them first. Gonna ruin it for you. Fuck ‘em with my fat cock, bigger than yours. I’m gonna kill you,” he says, muttering everything under his breath. It’s quiet, but just loud enough that you can hear.

“You’re sick,” you hiss into the receiver. He coughs, then licks his lip so loudly you can hear his spit clicking in his mouth.

“Piggy pussies want my juicy fat cock,” the voice hisses back, choking on his spit in the end. Christ, you can’t imagine what kind of degenerate was calling the house like this.

“Go fuck yourself. I’m calling the cops and I’m beating your ass if I ever see you,” you say.

The man starts to talk again, but you hang up on him, not willing to subject yourself to anymore of his ranting.

“Jesus,” you mutter to yourself, just as your friend comes out from the dining room.

“Was that him?” she asks worriedly, brows drawn together. You sigh as you go to her, putting your hands in your pockets.

“I think so. He calls you guys often?” you ask.

“Sometimes once a day. Sometimes more or less,” she says, holding her own hand. You sigh, taking one hand out of your pocket to pat her shoulder.

“I’m calling the station and then I’m spending the night here. I don’t trust that creep after what he said,” you say, letting your hand drop despite how she leant into your touch.

“What’d he say?”

You shake your head, putting your hand back into your pocket. “I won’t say. But I’ll keep you guys safe,” you promise. She coos at that, pouting like she might cry as she throws her arms around you. You carefuly extract both hands from your pockets and pat her back carefully.

“Thank you, thank you. You’re the bestest friend ever,” she says. You smile and pat her back, but you don’t really feel like a good friend.

Although your friend offers you the other side of her fullsize mattress, you decline her nicely and take a pillow and blanket down to the living room couch.

“It’s to keep an eye on the front door,” you told her, which she accepted with a pout.

Unfortunately, the couch is less comfortable laying down than when you’re sitting on it. You toss and turn for a while before giving up, staring up at the ceiling with wide open eyes.

You mind wanders back to the phone call and the voice on the other line. His voice had gotten to your head, despite his disgusting words, and his moans played on repeat in your mind. You hadn’t heard real male moans like that in a long time, not counting yourself. It put you on edge, despite every rational bone in your body telling you how stupid you were being.

You’re considering a quick jerk off when you hear the last step on the staircase creak.

Freezing, you don’t move as you consider the sound. It could be your girlfriend or one of her housemates, but nearly every step of the staircase creaked; theres no way any of them could climb down those steps without making any other noise. Alternatively, you hadn’t heard the door open, and that thing creaked louder than all the steps combined.

Slowly, you sit up and look over the back of the couch to see a man in a dark sweater standing on the last step. He’s frozen in place, like if he doesn’t move, you won’t realize he was walking down the steps in your girlfriend’s house.

The longer he stays still, the heavier your breath comes. Fuck, is he even real? You rub your eyes with both hands, and then you hear him take the final step off the stairs and into the living room.

A choked off noise leaves your mouth when the stranger tackles you on the couch, both hands reaching for your throat like he wants to strangle you. Luckily, with your hands both up by your face, you’re able to knock his hands away from you, and you realize he’s not a very strong man. You manuver him easily, despite the way he flails his limbs baby deer.

It also certainly helps that you wrestled in high school.

Laying on the floor by the couch, you press his back against your chest, legs hooking around his own to keep him splayed open. Both of his hands come to the arm you keep looped around his neck.

The stranger is breathing heavily, gasping and grunting like an animal. He tries to buck you off of him, but you keep him in his place easily.

“Who the fuck are you?” you hiss in his ear. You’re taken aback when he hisses back, literally, like a cornered cat. You tighten the arm around his neck and feel his nails dig against your forearm.

“Are you the one calling?” you ask instead.

“Rrrrrrring, ring, ring,” the man manages to trill, despite being completely breathless. “Please hold, the next available operator will fuck you momentarily.”

“You fucking pervert,” you say, jostling him. The man moans, trying to free his legs but you don’t let him. Keeping your arm tight around his throat, but not so tight he can’t breath, you let go of your other arm and drop it down to his crotch.

The man’s hip buck immediately, struggling to get you off of him as he lets out a whimper. You don’t let up, feeling how his cock was already half hard in his jeans.

“How do you like that?” you whisper in his ear, continuing the motion with firm and steady strokes. “Is this what you wanted so bad? Fucking pervert freak.”

The man is still whimpering, head tossing back and forth as he mutters a soft, “no,” again and again. Despite his protests, his hands loosen up on your arm, giving less effort to truly break out of your hold.

You tell yourself that you’re just teaching the guy a lesson, but you’re hard too. His body is warm and firm and he smells so masculine, no trace of sweet flowery perfumes or lotions. Your cock presses against his lower back, but you try to ignore it.

“You’re disgusting,” you say instead of focusing on yourself anymore. You can feel the man start to buck his hips into your hand, chasing the pleasure. Feeling cruel, you let go of him and bring your hand down against his cock, reveling in the way he crumples like a can of soda, letting out a pathetic strangled noise.

“You like this, don’t you? How are you this desperate for anyone to touch you?” you ask in his ear. You start to stroke him again, listening to his heavy breathing. “Disgusting.”

“Disgusting Billy,” he whispers, sounding strangled. He suddenly gasps wetly and swallows, like he’s drooling. You grit your teeth as your cock twitches.

“Get up,” you say, rolling him off of you. Your cock bulges in your pants, but you ignore it while you watch him. He stays on the ground, still breathing heavily, and you think you see his hips twitch forward like he’s imagining he’s fucking someone. Suddenly furious, you climb to your feet, towering over him.

“I said get up. On your knees,” you whisper into the dark room. He groans, keeping his head hanging even as he forces himself up.

He’s kneeling in front of you, and your cock throbs hotly against your tight pants.

“G-gonna fuck ‘em. Fucking sluts,” the man says under his breath. “Pig cunts.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you say, putting a hand in his frizzy mess of hair. Stepping forward, you force his head against your clothed cock. “Feel that? You’re gonna suck it, you fucking pervert. I don’t wanna hear another fucking word out of your mouth.”

The man moans, muffled against your pants. You can feel his mouth against you, wet and hot. His lips press against you, parted.

Extracting your hand from his hair, you undo your fly and pull your cock out, already leaking precum at your tip.

“Go ahead, you sick little perv. This is what you want, isn’t it?” You let your cock brush against his lips, red and shiny already. “Fuck. You’re so sick.”

The man gags when you finally push your cock past his lips. He doesn’t let you go very far, his gag reflex is so sensitive that pushing in past the tip of his tongue has him coughing and crying.

It hardly matters to you. You fuck his mouth anyways, letting him drool and gag and cough as much as he wants. He looks up at you with wide, watery eyes, and you stare right back into them as you use him like a thing.

When you finally come in his mouth, you pull out and watch him cough and spit it out onto the wood floor under them. He’s gasping and trying to catch his breath between coughs, face flushed and wet with tears.

“Look at you,” you whisper, putting your hand in his hair. “You’re the slut now. Disgusting cock slut. Gonna oink for me, you cock pig? Oink for me,” you taunt. He moans, covering his face with both hands and scrubbing at his tear-stained cheeks.

You almost feel bad for him, but one look down shows you how he presses a hand against his crotch, rocking on his knees to ride his own palm.

“Fuck. Gonna come in your pants?” you ask him cruelly. “Do it. Pervert. You cock pig.”

The man in front of you moans brokenly, falling forward and clutching onto your pants leg with one hand as the other stays between his legs. You can tell when he comes, hand tightening against your jeans as he leans against you completely, hips twitching a few times before falling still again.

You watch the stranger with heaving breaths, more turned on than you’ve ever felt during any of your past encounters with men – usually little more than rushed handjobs in locker rooms or bar bathrooms.

Out of pity, you let the man catch his breath before stepping away from him, and he falls onto the floor between them.

“Clean yourself up,” you say, hiding yourself in your pants again. You sigh when you see the mess of spit and cum on the floor. “I’m gonna get a towel for the mess. You need the bathroom?”

You watch the man shake his head slowly, still not showing his face. Sighing again, you wonder what you could say. Should you call the police, or would he tell them what you both did and get you arrested to?

When you come back with a paper towel, you’re surprised to see that the man is gone; even the bathroom is empty. You figure the man had learned his lesson and crawled back to whatever hole he came from.

Once the mess was wiped up and tossed into the kitchen trash bin, you lay back down on the couch. Sleep finds you much easier than it did before, and you’re out like a light after a few short minutes.

a/n: reblogs appreciated <33

#billy lenz #black christmas (1974)#billy lenz x reader #slasher x reader #₊*. ⋆༘ — requests #billy lenz x m!reader

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thousandyearphantombunker · 29 days

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“The titan said Belos is evil tho! Are you stupid the show said he was evil!”“Masha said lil’ bro just got jelly that his brother got a girlfriend! He doesn’t have depth and his ending was supposed to be unsatisfying!”“But James Ironwood losing his arm is supposed to represent him losing his humanity”“Jason Rose said that James could’ve always become evil and sided with Salem”“They literally called him genocide general!”“But in this Q&A they said the puppies survived they just lost their laser powers! And in the tie-in material, they showed everyone was fine! You just hate Starco!”“The show/tie-in material/a fucking Q&A said blah blah blah!”These arguments are shit. TOH- “God says witches are evil so it is his duty to kill them!” is a pretty horrible justification for killing someone except when the titan says it to Luz. I don’t think Luz is in the wrong for killing Belos, he was a genocidal maniac and child abuser and genuinely irredeemable- nobody who hates the ending of The Owl House complains about Belos being irredeemable, they complain about the show flopping the cult critical message, how hunter’s possession felt like needless shock value, the show not properly setting up the collector or how the coven system/conformitorium’s writing is a mess or how Eda becoming a teacher makes as much sense as Toph becoming a cop and you can go ‘but the show said-’ what the show said had unfortunate implications, was uncomfortable to abuse survivors, and I can’t forgive the ass-pullery of the trailer-bait nightmare sequence or how in the hexside crew became irrelevant! When people complain about how Belos was handled nobody complains about him not getting a redemption arc- they complain that hunter should’ve been there to see belos die or how they hate Luz’s power up. RWBY -James Ironwood’s and Penny’s character arcs and deaths felt so ableist it’s actually uncomfortable to watch, I have ASD my sister, and like half of the people I know have PTSD, I don’t know any amputees but I’ve seen plenty making noise about how shit the writing was. Good, they should be mad! The show’s message about prosthetics/amputations was toxic! Not mention for all the hopeful messages Team RWBY screams at the top of their lungs about trust they knowingly broke Ironwood’s trust for very poorly defined reasons! while I do think ruthless pragmatism is a bad thing, team RWBY offered no alternatives, he wasn’t a villain- he was facing an ethical dilemma and got fucked over. And SVTFOE- I shouldn’t have to buy tie-in materials to understand the show- tie-in material should be a bonus not a supplement or requirement, I Don’t have to buy the ATLA comics inorder to understand the show, I don’t have to read all of Lord Of The Rings to understand the movies. It doesn’t matter how the show was supposed to be interpreted or how the audience is supposed to feel, and It’s perfectly valid for the audience not to care about damage control spinoffs (cough cough Steven Universe) or Q&A’s or whatever. I’ll admit sometimes the audience is fucking stupid and completely media illiterate but can we stop acting like anyone who doesn’t blindly consume product and go with what the writers said are stupid? I know im not articulating this well but I’m pissy rn and I’m having trouble deconstructing whats wrong with those kind of arguments but god there is so much wrong with these arguements

#fuck rt #Rwde #toh critical #svtfoe critical #I promise I'm not anti TOH I wrote a whole ass essay on the show because I love its depiction of disability for college #Also svtfoe is a comfort show #But can we admit that the writing is a mess #I used to love rwby but God the show fell from grace #As did rooster teeth as a whole #For such a woke show it sure was ableist!#ableism #Rant #Nerd rage

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sirianasims · 2 months

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After the main course, Paul went to the kitchen to get the dessert ready before midnight. I excused myself and said I needed some fresh air.

I had been to Del Sol Valley a few times when I was little, visiting my grandparents, but I didn’t remember much about the city itself.

The back of Paul’s mansion was the only thing not surrounded by fences, and the view was both breathtaking and terrifying. Bright lights as far as the eye could see, occasional premature fireworks going off, faint background noise from traffic that never stopped.

It felt like we were gilded birds in a cage up here, always on display yet forever out of reach.

I couldn’t imagine anything further from Copperdale and the quiet, snow-covered forests around it.

I wondered if Paul would expect me to move in with him at some point. I didn’t see how he’d be able to work from anywhere else. I could work wherever, but could I live here? Surrounded by fences and cameras and security guards in a huge, empty house?

I pushed the thought away as I heard the clacking of heels behind me.

“Julia, can I talk to you for a moment?”, Sierra asked softly. “I would really like to apologise for what I said earlier. It was never my intention to insult you.”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, but I still can’t help feeling that you don’t like me very much. Or maybe you just don’t think I’m good enough for Paul?”

Sierra bit her lip.

“I shouldn’t have brought up his exes, especially not in front of you. The thing is, they rarely lasted long enough for the media to catch on – half the time I didn’t even get to meet them before he ended things. So when Paul first told us about you, I got worried. I saw him falling harder and faster than ever before, but you’re so much younger than him and I was struggling to see how it could possibly end well.”

“Right. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m just being honest with you. I tend to be, perhaps, overly protective of Paul. He was even younger than you when we met, we shared a shitty apartment with a few other aspiring actors, all trying to break through. We cheered each other on, audition after audition, practicing lines, commiserating over rejection letters… And then he got the call for Llama Man, and I ended up as an extra in a cop series which later got me the lead in Cop & Llama, but I’ve fought hard to escape that, branch out to other roles, and Paul just… didn’t even try.”

“But he says he prefers the voice acting, though. If you’re his friend, why do you keep pushing him if he’s perfectly happy?”

“Because I’m his friend. Sure, he says he’s happy. Maybe he even believes it. But Paul was always the best of us, and he never took his talent seriously. He’s a great voice actor, but it always felt like he secretly wanted more, he’s just scared. What if he sucked? The media would have a field day, writing about how he should just stick to his cartoons. You’ve seen what they’re like, you just had your first front page. Which, by the way, must be rough. I’m sorry for adding to the stress you must be under right now. Can we maybe start over?”

“Apology accepted, I’m too much of a fangirl to be mad at you anyway. And I’m managing, but I must say, being on the cover of a magazine is a lot less fun than advertised.”

“Trust me, it depends heavily on the kind of magazine. But being hung out to dry by some gossip rag is a rite of passage in this business. You should have seen the frenzy when rumours about me and Dave started circulating. It was wild. I once walked out of an interview because they asked me if the llama costume stayed on during sex!”

“Well? Did it ever?”

Sierra grinned.

“No way – do you have any idea how heavy and warm that costume is? It’s not exactly a sexy superhero muscle suit, it’s a full size sports mascot.”

“True. Although I’m not sure I’d appreciate it if Paul kept his costume on either.”

We both laughed, and I barely registered the steps behind me before I felt Pauls arms around me, his warm hands covering my eyes.

“Guess who.”

I heard Sierra chuckle. “Actually, Paul, we were kinda busy out here, bonding over the trials of dating men in llama costumes. It’s a very exclusive club.”

“I guess Dave and I have to start our own club then. But it's almost midnight and I would like to borrow my girlfriend, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine, you can have her back. I’ll just go get myself one of those fruit tarts before Lee and Dave eat them all.”

She walked back inside without waiting for a response.

She wouldn’t have gotten one anyway.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #julia duchelli #paul romeo #sierra moss

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alice-the-brave · 1 year

Text

“I guess,” Harrington shrugs, “I just – my parents, you know? They like to have things to brag about. Sports are about the only thing I’m good for.”

He says it like it’s easy, like its fact. Like he’s heard it a million times and it doesn’t bother him.

Billy thinks about him dropping out of the swim team, about the way he loiters about the pool, watching his kids and staying as far from the water as he can. Thinks about that last season he had on the basketball team, lackluster and disappointing. Cut short by a concussion that benched him for the last game of the season. The last game of his high school career.

A concussion that Billy gave him.

He remembers, too, the way he had talked about the kids, the way he said ‘people who care about me’ like he didn’t have anyone else. Like there weren’t any other options. Like they were all he had in the whole world.

“Well, don’t forget about that pretty face of yours, Harrington,” Billy says, looking away, watching the kids, trying to see them the way Harrington might.

Harrington laughs at that, throwing his head back, and Billy can’t help but turn slightly to watch him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve got that going for me, huh?”

“Sure,” Billy agrees, leaning over to pass him a coke bottle, “Popeye’s turning green with envy, man.”

Harrington snorts at that, reaching out to punch lightly at Billy’s shoulder before he takes the offered drink.

“Listen man, it’s not that bad if I ditch the hat,” he says, leaning back against his seat and twisting off the cap, oblivious to the way Billy can’t help but watch the flex of his bare arms as he does, “It’s company policy, but, c’mon, Robin’s my manager and it’s not like she’s gonna call me out.”

“She’s definitely gonna call you out,” Billy argues, “She likes to watch you suffer too much to let that slide. Besides, isn’t that unhygienic or something?”

“Dude. You really think a dog bowl shaped hat is keeping any of our hair out of the ice cream?”

“Hmm, yeah, maybe you should get a hairnet.”

“A hairnet?” Harrington says, scandalized. “You want me to wear a hairnet? Seriously?”

Billy can’t help but laugh at him, at the suburban house-wife outrage on his face.

“Listen, man, it’s not about what I want, it’s about safe business practices.”

“Does Scoops Ahoy seem like the kind of chain that cares about ‘safe business practices’ to you? Dude, Ballast Bubblegum is radioactive, I swear on my life. Nothing approved by the FDA should be that pink.”

“Since when have you known what the FDA is?”

Harrington’s smile turns a little wry at that and he takes a long sip of his coke, throat bared and bobbing. Billy adjusts his sunglasses just to make sure they’re still hiding him.

“Been reading up on all those government agencies lately,” Harrington says, glancing at his kids again, eyes watchful behind his shades, smile placid, “Kind of required reading at this point. What’s with all the letters, anyway? Couldn’t they just name them something that wasn’t a pain to say in the first place?”

“They’ve got to keep the uneducated masses from asking questions somehow,” Billy shrugs, “Making everything a pain in the ass to tell apart helps.”

Harrington turns to him with raised brows, lowering his shades to look at him, expression delighted and surprised.

“Billy Hargrove, are you telling me you don’t trust the American government? How unpatriotic.”

Billy snorts at that, fishes a cigarette out of his shorts and lights up.

Billy doesn’t trust the government for shit. He’s not stupid. Korea, Vietnam. The crazy shit that’s still coming out from the earlier days of the Cold War. He’d have to be braindead to trust the feds. The whole thing’s rotten from top to bottom, from the three letter pigs to Tweedledee and Tweedledum sitting at the corner shop in their cruiser.

Neil had some cop friends back in California. They didn’t do shit about anything if it wasn’t a bank robbery or pushing someone around if they looked like ‘trouble’ – the criteria for which changed depending on the day of the week. Neil hadn’t even cleaned up his act around them all that much. More than that he knows the kind of laws they keep, the kind of things they do to people like him. The cops might not have been able to arrest him just for existing since ’76 but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t beat him to death for it if anyone ever found out.

So, no, he’s not particularly a fan of Big Brother or whatever.

But Harrington? He’s the kind of upstanding member of society that volunteers at the police station or on election campaigns. With his parents’ money and reputation, it wouldn’t be strange if he grew up to be some kind of small-town politician.

Hawkins is the kind of place that really buys into the whole American Dream shit. Working husbands with stay at home wives and two kids with a dog kind of stuff. Wholesome, normal, respectable stuff. They trust the government here. Buy into that ‘serve and protect’ crap Billy’s always known better than to believe.

But Harrington looks delighted by Billy’s casual rejection of it all, looks like he’s been dying for someone to agree with, someone who wouldn’t laugh nervously or call his mother. Someone who isn’t in fucking middle school.

“I’m patriotic as hell,” Billy says, blowing smoke up to the sky, “I love beer and a hot dog as much as the next guy. Just would prefer if Big Brother wasn’t watching me take a piss.”

“Yeah, okay, a real Yankee Doodle,” Harrington says, rolling his eyes, “Big Brother? That’s uh, from that book, right? With the eye.”

“1984.”

“Uh,” Harrington says, brow furrowing, “No? ’85? June 15th, it’s – it’s a Saturday?”

Billy stares at him for a long moment, cigarette dangling from his lips, blinking slow.

“The book, Harrington. It’s called 1984.”

“Oh.”

Harrington flushes, turns back to the water, fidgeting with his bottle. He’s got that same blush he had when Billy was bothering him at work, before Kathy ruined it, like he’s embarrassed. But not – not in a bad way. The line between embarrassment and humiliation is thin as a knife’s edge for him, but Harrington seems to walk it effortlessly. He knows how to be embarrassed without being particularly ashamed, knows how to not let it hurt. Not let it slip and cut too deep.

“It was written in the 40’s or something,” Billy explains, “as a warning. About government overreach and war and shit.”

“Yeah, well, that guy was on to something,” Harrington says, shrugging.

“What, the FBI giving you trouble, pretty boy?”

Harrington pauses, bottle halfway to his mouth, and cuts Billy a look over his still lowered glasses.

Suddenly Billy remembers himself. Remembers that the FBI probably should be giving Harrington trouble. Billy knows that he’s an accessory to murder, at least. Knows that he didn’t seem too bothered about that. The kind of unbothered that makes Billy wonder if he’s been more than an accessory.

Just because Billy doesn’t want to know doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t.

They’d buried Neil in a patch of dirt somewhere up north, closer to Roane than Hawkins proper. The only Catholic cemetery around for a while. There had been a few graves there, fresh, dates ending in ‘83. The year before they moved here. The year Will Byers died and was resurrected, a cornfed Christ figure that no one seemed to rejoice except for his mother and his gang of nerdy apostles.

Billy hadn’t asked about the strange number of corpses that cropped up that year.

He doesn’t want to know.

#neil hargrove explode challenge #in my ideal world neil dies bloody #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #my writing #hawkins indiana #billy hargrove redemption #he's trying very hard not to become genre aware

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naavispider · 22 days

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I love Spider in modern AU as Street Kid, it fits his character so well. Do you have any more headcanons about what his life would be like in this AU type? <3

For this specific cop au I have rattling around my brain right now, here are the headcanons:

Spider is fifteen or sixteen when he’s first apprehended by law enforcement. He’s been hanging around with a few of the other guys from the kids home and drinking on street corners when someone calls the cops on them for underage drinking.

He wouldn’t normally drink but it’s the people he hangs out with that sway him. He’s good friends with some of the guys because they’ve all gone through the same shit together.

He’s been in a few foster homes but they’re always short term/emergency placements so for all the good they do they’re pretty much pointless

Paz was a single mum after spider was born because Quaritch was afraid of commitment. He offered to pay child support but Paz would rather be independent and kind of releases W of his responsibilities. She died when spider was maybe six or seven, and spider never had contact with his dad. When she died, Q was serving in the marines abroad, and Paz didn’t put him on the birth certificate anyway so he was never contacted.

Spider has always wondered about his dad but he doesn’t know the first thing about him.

It’s tough growing up without parents, but it’s even tougher when you had a secure, loving relationship that was wrenched away from you, so Spider has had to find his own ways of coping.

When he was younger, that meant shutting himself in his room and drawing his feelings away. As he grew older, that meant hanging out with like minded people and repressing his hurt and anger into more concerning outlets. (Drinking, vaping, weed and then more hardcore drugs).

He has several run ins with the cops, not all of them Quaritch. Some are worse than others and after a couple of bad experiences he’s obviously pretty distrustful of the police and sassy when he should really be respectful. This has on occasion led him to harsher punishments than his crime warranted.

He still has his mum’s necklace that he wears 24/7. It’s his most prized possession.

At the time of meeting Q, he’s on the run from the kids home. I think this is because he’s sick of having his things stolen and just wants a bit more freedom. He’s not a bad kid and is perfectly respectful to the staff and other kids but there’s a couple of older teenagers that live there who make threats and generally make his life hell.

His walls are up and he doesn’t trust anyone. Partly because of knowing his father couldn’t care less about him

Quaritch

Was a marine in his younger years, working his way up the ranks and serving many tours abroad

Met Paz in his early twenties, then spider was conceived and Q was simply not ready for the responsibilities of settling down and being a father - his life was only just beginning and his career was calling.

He parted from Paz in a bittersweet way - there wasn’t any animosity and the two still harboured affection for each other, but it was clear they needed to go their separate ways and Paz was fine with that

In his thirties he sustained an injury on tour that prevented him from serving again, so he changed to the police force and managed to become a lieutenant colonel

He’s been recognised on a state level and rewarded for his service to the city, receiving several awards and earning a high level of respect from colleagues both above and below him. He has hopes to become chief of police when the time is right

He enjoys the work but when he’s out on patrol he often hopes for the more high stakes cases that involve danger instead of just picking up petty crime or responding to domestics.

That’s not to say he doesn’t have a caring side - it just rarely comes out.

He’s a workaholic and hasn’t found a life partner yet, despite enjoying himself when he was younger. Now, he just likes to take on as many shifts as possible and focus on keeping the streets safe. As a result he earns a lot and lives comfortably

He doesn’t know that Paz is dead, and sometimes he will remember and think about how Paz and his son are doing, but he doesn’t feel the need to disrupt that or try to contact his son.

#spider socorro #miles quaritch #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar modern au #my stuff: cop au #miles spider socorro #recom quaritch #ask

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elekinetic · 10 months

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hi! i was just wondering what your opinions are on hopper, like, as a character? i've just seen so much slander for him and i was wondering about your own thoughts on it since you seem to have a good grasp of the show's characters. also, no pressure to answer if you don't want to, i'm just genuinely curious :)

hi!! i am so honored you asked!

so. hopper’s a shithead. i love him.

no but actually so, i think hopper is one of the most interesting characters in the show, and i think a lot of the hopper slander (and character slander in general) comes from having fundamentally different approaches to the show. and I don’t think there’s any one correct way to watch the show, but there’s a difference between looking at characters as people who are accountable for their actions and characters as vehicles for communicating themes and ideas.

(I wanna start with a disclaimer that I’m not really gonna touch how he exists as copaganda, especially as a character, who really does not subvert the hero cop trope. That’s a separate post and a whole other conversation — one that’s important when contextualizing our discussion of hopper, but for now I’m just gonna focus on his characterization and behavior within the context of the show. alright, moving on.)

hopper is not always the nicest person and doesn’t always make the right call, but he is so caring and protective of the people he loves, and he believes in goodness in the world. i think it’s really interesting to see that over the course of the show, part of his journey is relearning that there are good things, and that even though it’s painful, those things are still worth protecting. (it’s less so that he’s learning that those things are worth protecting and it’s more so that he’s learning to be okay with the pain of it.)

after losing sarah, hopper shuts everything down and everything out. and like, obviously. of course he would. there’s this really interesting part of his spinoff novel that talks about how when he was in the war, he was stationed in an area that exposed him to chemicals that could lead to birth defects or infertility in the future. and then he comes home and has sarah anyway, and then she dies of cancer. obviously he feels really guilty about that. I think it’s really really important to remember that that is a key part of his experience when it comes to analyzing hopper and considering his behavior.

i was re-watching the first couple episodes of season two with abby strangeswift and bats demobatman, specifically el’s conversation with him about wanting to go out for halloween. and i was really frustrated, right, because here’s this girl that’s been trapped in a lab her entire life and just wants to feel normal, and there’s really no end in sight to this new kind of confinement. but then abby and bats were talking about how there’s really no other choice and especially after losing sarah, he is not willing to put el at risk.

I think this haunts him through the next couple of seasons. he becomes so blinded by his need to protect and keep el safe that he loses nuance. especially with a kid as extraordinary and as hunted as el, hopper is so on guard all the time. and that’s frustrating! because then we see him as the reason el loses out on experiences that she should get to have. she should get to be a normal kid and do normal things like go to the mall and kiss her boyfriend etc. etc. but hopper is so keenly aware of the fact that el is not a normal kid and the world is not safe for her. he’s not willing to be the reason another daughter dies.

like i said, i think hopper makes bad decisions and doesn’t always consider the agency of the people he loves, but i think the reason that we see so many parallels between him and mike is because they are both protectors. fundamentally, i think their arcs are the same. it’s them learning they don’t always have to be the protector, that they can trust the people they love to love them back without being a defensive force. learning there’s a way to be protective without being overbearing or imposing on agency.

and listen, hopper fucks up a lot. I don’t think the way he speaks to Joyce season three is OK and I think he owes her an apology. and I think he and eI will need to have a real conversation about why he acts the way he does and why he put the rules he does in place. (I don’t think people understand just how much danger el is in even when the upside down shit isn’t happening.)

hopper makes a lot of sense to me and his inner conflict is really, really interesting. if you’re looking at him as a person, then, yeah, it gets a lot harder to excuse his actions because they do cause harm, tangible harm. but i read an article recently that i think articulated really well why our progress as a society about discussing mental health hasn’t really solve the problems we need it to solve; that, despite introducing these therapeutic terms and emphasizing boundary setting, we still center ourselves in our experience of the world. (when you fuck up, youre learning—when your friend fucks up, they’re a narcissist, kind of thing.)

so let’s let both things be true. that hopper is not always making the best decisions and doesn’t always say or do the right thing, that he should apologize for that (which he has on occasion). but he’s also learning and he should be given the space and grace for that. and yes, he’s 40. but people don’t stop learning and growing when they’re 40. you don’t hit 25 and suddenly you’re a perfect person. and this is a man who has been through a war, lost his four-year-old daughter to cancer he is sure he caused, struggled with addiction and depression, and at this point has been literally tortured by russians for months.

but then again, hopper isn’t person. he’s a character. hopper does not exist to be accountable to his actions. he exists to convey a story, to communicate ideas. stories like this aren’t interesting without complicated people. he adds complexity to the plot and the relationships between characters. he informs el’s relationship with society and adults in her life. he gives joyce the space to be taken care of, to not be the mom, the hustler, the protector of her own family all day everyday. he fills out hawkins as a three-dimensional place, where not everyone is a wheeler-esque suburban wet dream. he shows that there is a path out of grief and depression. he shows that it’s important to lean on people and that isolation will just lead to further suffering. It shows that protecting other people is important, but so is moderation and communication. how do we learn those lessons without a character making mistakes that hopper does?

anyway, those are my brief scattered thoughts on hopper. i think he deserves more grace than he’s given by people in fan spaces, but i understand peoples hesitation to treat him as a beloved character the way they would treat el or lucas or will. he’s a very real character and doesn’t really fit the schema of a fave, i think. and i think the way people communicate their appreciation for his character doesn’t fit easily into the way people show their appreciation for other characters in fans spaces.

I hope this makes sense. 👍

#jim hopper #thanks for asking me!!

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